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THE PROPHECY OF OUR NATIONAL GREATNESS. 
 
 I soe 
 
 Freedotns established rcisii; cilics and men, 
 Nuiiiefoiis as sands upon the ocean shore, 
 Aiideiii|>ircs rising where the siiti desceixds! 
 The Ohio soon sliall ^Itde by many a town 
 OfNol-e! and where ihc Mississippi's stream. 
 By forests shaded, hoav runs sweeping on. 
 Nations shall Qiow.and slates, not less in fame 
 Than Greece and Rome of old! V\e,lee,shall boast 
 OtirScipios, Solons, Catos, -sa^'cs, ehiefs. 
 That in the lapse of litnc yet dormant lie, 
 M^ailin^'the joyovis hour of life ai\d li^jhl." 
 
 Philip l Yeueaii, the. \incrican Poet in 177^. 
 
 ITS FULFILMENT. 
 
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I T ' 
 
 OUB FlEST CENTURY: 
 
 BEING A 
 
 POPULAR DESCRIPTITE PORTRAITURE 
 
 OF THB 
 
 ui^3{m|tel ^m\ ml l){i|nt0i;affl^3|^ji|ii{ 
 
 OF PEEPKTUAL I^'TEEE8T 
 
 IN THE HISTORY OF OUR COUNTRY, 
 
 [Political, [M^ilitary. M!eclianical, Social, Scientific 
 
 and Commercial: 
 
 EMBKACIIfO ALSO 
 
 DELINEATION'S OF ALL THE GREAT HISTORIC CHARACTERS 
 CELEBRATED IN THE ANNALS OF THE 
 REPUBLIC ; 
 
 Men of Ileroism, Statesmanship, Genius, Oratory, Adven- 
 ture and Philanthropy. 
 
 By H. IVT. DEVENS, 
 
 Member of the Historical Society of Pennnylvania, Author of Jppletons' Commercial and Business Cyclopedia, 
 
 Lives qf Washington, Napoleon, and Wellington, ^c, Ifc. 
 
 Splendidly Illustrated with Several Hundred Plates, Portraits, and other Embellishments. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY 
 
 C. A. NICHOLS & CO., SPRINGFIELD, MASS. 
 
 HUGH HERON, CHICAGO, ILL. 
 
 1878. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, by 
 
 C. A. NICHOLS & Co. 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 x5t'\lo. 
 
 tuk clark w. bkyan companv, 
 
 Electkotyper, Printers and Binders, 
 
 springfield, mass. 
 
"Columbia, great Republic! thou ait blest, 
 While Empires drop, and Monnrchs sink to rest." 
 
 GLOKY OF THE AMERICAN CENTURY. 
 
 KAJSTD and impressive, beyond all that is yet written in the 
 Er f. Volume of Human History, will be that transcendent Chapter, 
 which shall unfold, in philosophic narrative, the birth and onward 
 march, iu greatness and power, of the Republic of the United States, — the completion 
 of its First Century of mighty national development in Political Liberty and 
 Free Civilization, and the momentous relations of that development to the interest, 
 progress, and destiny of mankind. 
 
 A task so stately and magnificent might fitly engage the pen of a Bancroft, a Motley, 
 or other historiographer of kindred fame; for, surely, no power of mental grasp or 
 of historic portrayal inferior to theirs, could adequately set forth the resplendent 
 advances and triumphs of Human Illumination — wide streaming, wondrous, 
 beneficent, energizing, — on this western continent, and under the inspiration of 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 liberal institutions, during the Century of 
 the American Republic ; a country which, 
 when it first clothed itself with the pre- 
 rogatives of sovereignty, numbered but 
 thirteen feeble States, with three million 
 inhabitants, occupjnng the small familiar 
 strip of territory lined on one side by 
 the Atlantic ocean, and on the other by 
 the Alleghany ridge, but whose vast out- 
 lying boundaries are now watered also by 
 the great Pacific, the gulf of California, 
 and the Arctic ocean, — comprising, in fact, 
 a continental chain of zones, sweeping, in 
 hemispheric magnitude, from the moun- 
 tain crests of eternal snows to the region 
 of perpetual flowers ; — its census of popu- 
 lation, too, with similar strides of amazing 
 augmentation, rolling up a free, intelli- 
 gent, and powerful citizenship of forty 
 round millions ! 
 
 Never before has the world witnessed 
 so superlative an illustration of the capac- 
 ity of man for self government; never 
 before has the Glory of Man, in his unre- 
 pressed enthusiasm and unfettered activi- 
 ties, been confirmed by achievements so 
 splendid and enduring. 
 
 Sharing, in full measure, the patriotic 
 pride of a birthright and nationality so 
 exalted, and of associations so illustrious, — 
 the conscious sentiment of every American 
 bosom, — 
 
 I DEDICATE THIS WORK TO MY ENLIGHT- 
 ENED Fellow Countrymen in the 
 
 NEARLY TWO-SCORE FRATERNAL COM- 
 MONWEALTHS OF OUR GLORIOUS UNION, 
 
 — E Plurihus Unum ! "All for each, 
 
 AND EACH FOR ALL." 
 
 Our common interest in those marvel- 
 ous recitals of the nation's Wonderfully 
 varied Life during the Centennial Era, 
 now just completed, is without distinction 
 of party, section, or calling; and our con- 
 
 gratulatory lot it is, under the gracious 
 blessing of Heaven, to boast of a career 
 more renowned, diversified in character, 
 and more boundless in its results to the 
 human race, than that of the most com- 
 manding Empires of the Past, of what- 
 ever name or period. 
 
 These memorials of that unparalleled 
 and majestic drama possess, too, — many 
 of them, — an historical significance which 
 is not limited to the past, nor to the gener- 
 ation whose fortune it is to rehearse them 
 at this dividing threshold, between their 
 occurrence and their commemoration ; — 
 their influence ivill reach forward to the 
 setting of the sun of time! 
 
 Vain Predictions of the Enemies of 
 Free Government. 
 
 Contemplating, with but the briefest 
 survey, the data exhibiting our prodigious 
 national growth, scarcely can it be realized, 
 at the present day, that, even after the 
 lapse of successive decades from the na- 
 tion's birth, there were prophets of evil 
 omen across the water, the devotees of 
 monarchical rule and the enemies of free in- 
 stitutions, who oracularly predicted that 
 the American Republic was but a tran- 
 sient experiment — a mere political will-o'- 
 the-wisp — an aerial edifice, which a few 
 rough storms would shatter and dissipate ; 
 that it would, indeed, prove like Jonah's 
 gourd, which grew up in a night, and per- 
 ished in a day ! 
 
 Statesmen of no less sagacity than Rus- 
 sell, Macaulay, Brougham, and, still later, 
 even that astute philosopher, Mr. Carlyle, 
 heralded with blind and self-conceited as- 
 sumption, the downfall of our nation, — the 
 same nation, of whose geographical mag- 
 nitude already attained during its tenth 
 decade, one of the most prominent of 
 American Statesmen could declare, that, 
 were all the countries conquered by Roman 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 arms, or reduced to subjection by Roman 
 power, arrayed contiguously, in compact 
 form, and placed in the center of the 
 United States, one of our swift railroad 
 trains, with its palace cars, containing 
 more of elegance and luxury of travel than 
 the most sybaritic of the Roman emper- 
 ors ever dreamed of, must run at the rate 
 of twenty-five miles the hour, continu- 
 ously, for more than two days, from either 
 exterior boundary of our jurisdiction, to 
 reach the outward limits of the Roman 
 empire, when thus placed, even when she 
 claimed to be mistress of the world. 
 
 But, though the vauntings of evil proph- 
 ecy, the assaults of envy and ridicule, the 
 tirades of a hostile press, and the machina- 
 tions of kings and cabinets, have ever and 
 anon swept across the Atlantic, and sought 
 to weaken the stability and humiliate the 
 name of our glorious Republic, it still 
 stands, confronting and challenging the 
 tribunal of the world, in the majesty of 
 those eternal principles embodied in its 
 Declaration of Independence, — in the 
 strength of its dignity as the commanding 
 arbiter of its own affairs, and of the des- 
 tiny oi the Western hemisphere as well, — 
 in the prowess of its fleets and armies, — 
 in the incalculable wealth of its natural 
 resources, — in the splendor of its world- 
 wide commerce, its gigantic material en- 
 terprises, its vast industries, its affluence 
 in the whole range of art, science, and lit- 
 erature, — and in the still growing ascend- 
 ancy of all those moral, social, educa- 
 tional, and political forces, which shall 
 carry it onward and dominant, with ever- 
 increasing power, " while Empires drop 
 and Monarchs sink to rest." 
 
 Well, then, may every true American, 
 standing on this Centennial outpost, and 
 seeing the gorgeous ensigns of the repub- 
 lic studded with naught but stars of ever- 
 
 brightening light and luster, proudly ex- 
 claim, '< There stands the Past — All hail 
 the Hereafter ! Ring out the Old — Ring 
 in the New ! " 
 
 Scope of this Volume: Wonders axd 
 Pkodigies, Men and Events. 
 
 Leaving to the tosk of the general his- 
 torian, the discussion of those grave themes 
 of constitutional and legislative polity, the 
 triumphs and failures of diplomacy, and 
 the complex details of civic and military 
 administration, which make up the politi- 
 cal life of a State and give to a government 
 its distinguishing consideration and status 
 in the family of nations, it is proposed 
 in this volume, — as meeting what is be- 
 lieved will be the almost universal prefer- 
 ence of the People, — to present, rather, a 
 panoramic view of those wonders and prod- 
 igies, both of men and events, which pe- 
 culiarly reflect the patriotism, taste and 
 genius, the exploits, tragedies and achieve- 
 ments, of the Century, in their most promi- 
 nent and emphasized examples; — those 
 red-letter days, scenes and sensations, 
 which exhibit, in distinctive portraiture, 
 the glory of our arms, the triumphs of in- 
 vention, the marvelous phenomena of the 
 heavens above and the earth beneath, the 
 enthusiasm of reform, the valorous adven- 
 tures of voyage and travel, the contests of 
 the forum, the horrors of calamity and 
 crime, the startling play of the human will 
 and passions, the gala days of national re- 
 joicing, etc., etc., in all the rich and ex- 
 citing phases of one hundred changeful 
 years. 
 
 An eminent writer, in one of the most 
 influential of the foreign Reviews, re- 
 marks : 
 
 *'If the sense of wonder in civilized 
 man has not been wholly destroyed, we 
 can not doubt that this age m which we 
 
10 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 live will he Joohed hack upon by our cliil- 
 dren's children as more replete with won- 
 ders than any which the world^s history 
 has hitherto recorded^ 
 
 How forcible the truth of this observa- 
 tion is, in respect to the one hundred j-ears 
 of our own history, the characterizations 
 spread out in the following pages will at- 
 test. The calendar of that century has 
 been multitudinous with wonders — social, 
 moral, political, phj-sical, scientific, — so 
 vast, so dazzling, as to render familiar to 
 us, as matters of common interest and 
 daily thought, results and facts, greater 
 and intrinsically more strange, tlian any 
 that past ages afford, and eclipsing any 
 that pertain to distant countries. 
 
 The superior value, therefore, of this 
 volume, for the great mass of readers, as 
 compared with works of simple clironologi- 
 cal summary with the usual comments and 
 discussions, is seen in the more diverse 
 range — the wider scope — of attractive sub- 
 jects here collected, and which are adapted 
 to meet so fully the average taste and 
 need. Thus, the pages of no history, cast 
 in the customary mould of that order of 
 literature, could be expected to contain 
 more than a passing allusion, if so much, 
 to the peculiarly readable matter which com- 
 prises one-third, at least, of the topics here 
 treated, and, without which, the work 
 would fail in its most piquant element. 
 HiSTOUY Illustrating Itself by Ex- 
 ample. 
 
 Adopting the words " great " and " mem- 
 orable," according to the liberal definition 
 of lexicologists, and guided by the familiar 
 injunction of Cicero, "Choose with dis- 
 cretion out of the plenty before you," the 
 plan of this work is, in a special and per- 
 spicuous sense, that of history illustrating 
 itself by example. It says to all. Look 
 on this picture — and on this. 
 
 Suffice it to say, on this point, that 
 every event chosen for these pages is, in 
 addition to its own intrinsic interest, such 
 as illustrates and brings into striking relief 
 the prevailing spirit or excitement of the 
 period marked by its occurrence, — photo- 
 graphs of each recurring marvel, as the 
 canvas of national life was unrolled, — be- 
 ginning with the world-renowned transac- 
 tion in the Hall of Independence, July 4, 
 1776, and ending with the Centennial com- 
 memoration, July 4, 1876, of that august 
 scene, under circumstances the most grand 
 and imposing that ever related to any peo- 
 ple under the sun. 
 
 Popular Interest of the Subjects 
 HERE Treated. 
 
 The popular and permanent fame of 
 these celebrated events, which thus distin- 
 guish a century confessedly the most won- 
 derful of any in the ages of the world, and 
 pertaining to a country whose career has 
 been unequaled by that of any of the na- 
 tions of Christendom, may well be said to 
 constitute a quality in this volume, com- 
 pared with which the ordinary terms ap- 
 plicable to books designed for wide-spread 
 circulation would be but tame. The char- 
 acter of this work is, rather, in the fullest 
 sense, rotnajitic, stimulating, instructive, — 
 adapted, in the highest degree, to enlist 
 the rapt emotions and curiosity of every 
 American reader, so long as the republic 
 shall endure. Here, also, are presented to 
 view, in addition to the long and thrilling 
 role of subsequent events, those grand 
 Time-marks in our earlier history, to 
 which the out-stretched forefinger of a 
 century joints, as most memorable and 
 engrossing. They were rehearsed by the 
 fathers to the children ; and the children 
 of the present, and those of future genera- 
 tions, will peruse the varied story with 
 eager and absorbing attention. 
 
DEDICATIOK 
 
 11 
 
 For tliat large number, too, who tliougli 
 now ill advancing years are familiar with 
 many of these events only through veihal 
 repetition, or from scanty and fragmentary 
 sources, this ample detail, through the 
 printed page, of whatever is most famous 
 in the past of their native land, will surely 
 be invaluable. 
 
 Exclusion of All Dry Topics and 
 Details. 
 
 As already remarked, incidentally, the 
 treatment of those topics which involve 
 tedious documentary array, those, too, 
 which are more properly within the scope 
 of scientific speculation, or political theo- 
 rizing, or legal disquisition, — such, for in- 
 stance, as the shifting conflicts of party, 
 our international complications, and those 
 profound problems of public policy which 
 have agitated the country since its very 
 foundation, — has not been attempted here, 
 excepting in those special features which 
 admit of attractive narrative and the em- 
 bodying of genial anecdote and pleasing 
 memorabilia. A host of ready pens will 
 not be wanting, to elaborate, in well-woven 
 thread of continuity, the copious facts and 
 proceedings relating, respectively, to the 
 political, military, religious, benevolent, 
 commercial and industrial growth of the 
 republic, during the wondrous cj'^cle just 
 completed; and it is safe to assume, there- 
 fore, in this regard, that the interests of 
 no class or profession will suffer from the 
 lack of a competent representative in the 
 circle of authorship. 
 
 The Universal Heart Touched v.y 
 THESE Scenes and Events. 
 
 It will readily be conjectured that, to 
 "choose with discretion " from the multi- 
 farious materials which the preparation of 
 such a work involved, — discriminating 
 
 aptly among their number and variety, — 
 was no indifferent task. 
 
 The utmost pains-taking has been put 
 forth by the editor, to perform this duty in 
 such a manner as to omit nothing, the 
 absence of which would impair the com- 
 pleteness of the work, by making it in any 
 measure less than it should be — a mirror 
 reflecting the great and striking occur- 
 rences of an Era to which has been di- 
 rected, from first to last, the wondering 
 gaze of people of every clime. Especially 
 may they be described as those at which 
 the American citizen, taking a retrospect 
 of the annals that flow through the period 
 thus marked, involuntarily finds himself 
 filled, alternately, with astonishment — 
 pride — horror — delight. 
 
 In a word, the contents of these pages, 
 as will be seen by a glance at the Topi- 
 cal or Classified List, comprise those 
 events which called forth the greatest in- 
 terest, curiosity, admiration, or terror, on 
 the part of the public; — those black and 
 white keys, whose changeful notes, oft- 
 times of weal,ofttimes of woe, touched, as 
 did no others, the universal heart! 
 
 Different Tastes and Preferences 
 Consulted. 
 
 That the number of subjects pertinent 
 for such a work might be somewhat ex- 
 tended, soon became apparent. Thus, of 
 the many battles in the five great wars, — 
 the revolutionary struggle, the war of 
 1812, the Mexican campaign, the conflict 
 for the Union, and the wars with the In- 
 dians, — a description will be found of the 
 fifteen most decisive, together with ac- 
 counts of some others of controlling im- 
 portance ; to portray all, however, of ac- 
 knowledged moment, would have been to 
 devote a whole volume, at least, to that 
 specialty alone. Particularly does this 
 
12 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 remark apply to that vast and prolonged 
 drama of the war for the Union ; — it was 
 absolutely impossible, and it would also 
 have been equally iinprofitable, to present 
 more than a few of those teeming events, 
 such, for instance, as marked its inaugura- 
 tion, and those which, during its progress, 
 distinctly foreshadowed or were immedi- 
 ately identified with the final result. 
 
 The same statement holds true, rela- 
 tively, with reference to great political 
 measures, crimes, disasters, reforms, and 
 the wide field of discoveries and inven- 
 tions. Of these latter, numbering in tlie 
 Patent Office at Washington scores of 
 thousands, the " New American Cyclope- 
 dia" gives place, in its masterly table of 
 Chronology, to barely half a dozen exam- 
 ples ; more than this number, however, are 
 here described, linked with the fascinating 
 story of their extraordinary origin and in- 
 troduction, and their amazing revolution- 
 ary influence. 
 
 Without pursuing this train of explana- 
 tion farther, it may be observed that, in 
 prosecuting the contemplated plan of this 
 volume, it was found that, though the 
 grand object in view would be amply and 
 satisfactorily attained by restricting the 
 topical contents to the original one hun- 
 dred, there were yet certain notable occur- 
 rences which, though by no means " great," 
 in the pre-eminent meaning of that word, 
 possessed, nevertheless, so largely the char- 
 acter of being novel and exhilarating, and 
 partook so peculiarly of the " bloom, effer- 
 vescence, and gush" of the times, that 
 their presentation would add most agree- 
 ably to the variety, readableness, and eclat 
 of the text. 
 
 It was finally determined, therefore, 
 that a limited number of this collateral or 
 secondary class should be included, — pop- 
 ular side-light scenes, or episodes, in the 
 
 varying tableaux, — such as the account of 
 the sea serpent, the musical tour of Jenny 
 Lind, the chess triumphs of Morphy, 
 Rarey's feats of horse-taming, etc., etc., — 
 but not by subtracting from the full roll 
 of the One Hundred events which were 
 selected, from the first, as legitimately 
 illustrating the broad National Epoch, and 
 which so distinctly fulfill the name and 
 design of this work. 
 
 Great Historic Actors as well as 
 Deeds Described. 
 
 It will hardly be necessary to remark at 
 much length upon what, in the nature of 
 the case, is so obvious, namely, that not 
 alone the great Events distinguishing the 
 past, but also the Actors, w.th whose lives 
 those events are so intimately identified, 
 are here delineated in the most striking 
 crises of their career ; so that no sphere or 
 phase of public concern, however diverse, 
 which aroused world-wide attention, is 
 without its personal portraitures in these 
 pages. Washington, and his immortal 
 compatriots of " the times that tried men's 
 souls," and, following them, all the chief 
 historic characters whose deeds loom up so 
 conspicuously, and whose fame for good or 
 ill, success or disaster, is national, — men 
 of heroism, statesmanship, oratory, genius, 
 adventure, philanthropy, crime, — have 
 here their appropriate place. 
 
 Character and Extent of Labor In- 
 volved. 
 
 The matter of these volumes is of such 
 a nature as necessarily to render mere 
 rhetorical platitudes quite out of place; 
 and the too common plan of presenting 
 rivulets of fact in meadows of verbiage, 
 would be at utter variance with the object 
 and value of our prescribed space. Res, 
 non verba ! It has consequently been a 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 13 
 
 paramount aim with the editor, while 
 strictly avoiding that degree of condensa- 
 tion which would result in arid outlines, 
 or bare skeletons, to — first, avoid micro- 
 scopic details, and, second, to fuse the vital 
 facts and racy incidents of each subject in 
 such a manner as would body it forth to 
 the reader in judicious fullness and com- 
 plete unity. That no reasonable desire in 
 this respect has been left unsatisfied, it is 
 sufficient to say, that, to each great event 
 is devoted a number of pages equal to that 
 usually given to articles, descriptive or 
 narrative, in the various first-class maga- 
 zines of widest circulation. 
 
 Manifestly, too, it could form no part of 
 such a work as this to create, or to adorn 
 by the mere artifice of words, but rather, 
 with simple fidelity, to rehearse and per- 
 petuate. Sources of information, wher- 
 ever available, embracing the well nigh 
 endless files of American newspapers, and 
 in particular the issues of the metropoli- 
 tan press ; the immense range of periodi- 
 cal literature traversing the whole period 
 of one hundred years ; voluminous masses 
 of judicial and legislative documents; the 
 personal narratives of those who were 
 foremost participants in the scenes de- 
 picted ; innumerable incidents and data 
 communicated by eye-witnesses ; the teem- 
 ing libraries, public and private, of our 
 principal cities ; — the whole store-house, 
 in fact, of history in every department, 
 has been industriously explored, and its 
 contents, diligently examined and sum- 
 marized, made tributary to the interest of 
 these pages. 
 
 No event or transaction has in any case 
 been selected, or excluded, because of any 
 bias, political or religious, on the part of 
 the editor ; but, alike in respect to the 
 events themselves and their dramatis per- 
 sonce, the variety here presented, as well 
 
 as the authorities and sources of informa- 
 tion cited, will abundantly evince the en- 
 tiro impartiality practiced. Nor was it 
 deemed desirable to augment the bulk of 
 the work by indulging in diffuse com- 
 ments, or philosophical reflections, on the 
 events set forth, however fruitful and 
 tempting the opportunity. The "plain 
 unvarnished tale " is allowed to stand by 
 itself, teaching its own lesson, and sug- 
 gesting its own commentary. 
 
 The difficulty of attaining unchallenged 
 accuracy in all the minutifE of each event 
 — as, for example, the diverse combina- 
 tions and maneuvers incident to pro- 
 longed battles, — as well as other transac* 
 tions involving great and many-sided 
 detail, need but to be mentionec? in order 
 to bo appreciated. The various and pro- 
 tracted controversies growing out of the 
 statements contained in the volumes of 
 our foremost national historian, Mr. Ban- 
 croft, are fresh in the minds of all who are 
 familiar with current literature and affairs, 
 and furnish a case in point ; and if any ad- 
 ditional evidence were requisite to show 
 the difficulties of even the most conscien- 
 tious narrator, the experience of Sir AVal- 
 ter Raleigh will at least be taken as suf- 
 ficiently suggestive. It is well known 
 that his "History of the AVorld " was 
 composed while he was a political prisoner 
 in the Tower of London. Only a portion 
 of the work, however, was published, 
 owing to the following circumstance : — 
 One afternoon, looking through his win- 
 dow into one of the courts of the Tower, 
 Sir Walter saw two men quarrel, when the 
 one actually murdered the other. Shortly 
 after this occurred, two gentlemen, friends 
 of Sir Walter, came into his room, and, 
 remarking upon the tragedy, disagreed 
 materially in their statements. Sir Wal- 
 ter, who, like them, had witnessed the 
 
14 
 
 DEDICxVTION. 
 
 wliolo iiffiiir, declared that neither was ac- 
 curate, and gave liis own version of the 
 matter. Thus, three eye-witnesses disa- 
 greeing about an act so recently com- 
 mitted,. R;ileigh, in a rage, took up the 
 volumes of manuscript which lay near, 
 and belonging to his " History of the 
 World," and threw them on a large fire 
 that was in the room, exclaiming, that " it 
 was not for him to write the history of the 
 world, if he could not verify or relate 
 what he saw a quarter of an hour be- 
 fore." 
 
 It remains to be added here, in terms of 
 warm and grateful appreciation, that much 
 of the irksomeness inseparable from labor 
 of this character, has been relieved by the 
 aid afforded us, so cheerfully, by corre- 
 spondents in different parts of the coun- 
 try, — authors, statesmen, military and 
 other officials, — and without whose friend- 
 ly co-operation, insuperable difficulty would 
 have been experienced by the editor, at 
 more than one stage in the progress of his 
 task. 
 
 The valuable assistance thus rendered is 
 hereby gratefully acknowledged, with a 
 deep sense of personal obligation. 
 
 SuPEKB Attractiveness of the Illus- 
 trations. 
 
 Of the numerous and elegant pictorial 
 adornments of these pages, much might 
 be said. This attractive as well as essen- 
 tial feature, namely, the full and grapliic 
 illustration, by views and portraits, of 
 each event and its chief actors, together 
 with the signatures of the latter, was de- 
 termined on simultaneously with the first 
 conception of the book itself; and the re- 
 sult — a complete Picture Gallery of the 
 National Century, — will be found in keep- 
 ing with the selectest attainments of taste 
 and genius in tliis direction, and worthy 
 
 of the vivid transactions thus delineated. 
 They have been furnished by the most 
 eminent artists, and at a lavish cost, — the 
 number, variety, and beauty of the plates 
 being far in advance of those of any other 
 work of the same compass ever before pub- 
 lished in America, and equaled by few or 
 none issued abroad. 
 
 That nothing should be deficient in this 
 feature, the plan pursued was, to obtain, if 
 possible, accurate representations of every 
 scene to be described, fresh and contem- 
 porary with its occurrence, and, wdiere no 
 facility was afforded for this, to resort to 
 the best skill capable of realizing the end 
 desired. They comprise copies of some 
 of the masterpieces of Trumbull, Copley, 
 Healy, and others of that renowned school, 
 and portraits, sketches, designs, vignettes, 
 etc., by the most gifted leaders of art in 
 America. 
 
 It is but simple justice, also, to remark 
 here, that for the completeness character- 
 izing this wide field of embellishment, our 
 warmest thanks are due, in repeated in- 
 stances, to the generosity of courteous 
 correspondents, — authors, artists, publish- 
 ers and others, — for portraits and auto- 
 graphs so rare that, but for the kind favor 
 thus extended, access to some of the most 
 valued engravings here given would have 
 been well nigh impracticable. Nor would 
 it be possible, in this connection, to over- 
 state the credit belonging to the unrivaled 
 illustrated journals of our great cities, 
 whose prompt and profuse photographs of 
 current events and memorable objects and 
 personages, in all parts of the world, dur- 
 ing tlie last quarter of a century, leave 
 nothing unprovided in that line for the 
 future liistorian. In a vast majority of 
 instances, indeed, those journals are the 
 only sources from which life-like picto- 
 rial descriptions of American history, and 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 15 
 
 that of other uations as well, can be 
 drawn. 
 
 Timely Appeakance of the Work. 
 
 Without egotism or boastfulness, it may 
 he claimed for this work, in conclusion, 
 that, original and unique in plan, rich in 
 its varied and ample contents, and unsur- 
 passed in abundant ornamentation, its ap- 
 pearance at the close of the Grand Na- 
 tional Era was peculiarly called for; — it 
 being confidently believed that, under the 
 
 stimulus of the universal celebration of 
 the Great Commemorative Anniversary, 
 throughout all the borders of the land, 
 and on a scale of magnificence becoming 
 the most powerful, happy, and prosperous 
 nation on the face of the globe, public at- 
 tention would naturally be directed to the 
 desirableness of just such a Memorial of 
 that eventful centenary period which the 
 Day of Jubilee — July Fourth, 187G, — 
 rounds out to full-orbed completeness. 
 
 K. M. DEVENS. 
 
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 by Her Youngest Colonies. 
 —Vast Disparity, in Power and Resources, between the Contestants.— The whole AVorld 
 Looks on Astonished.— Seven Years' Bloody and Desolating War.— The American Cause Tri- 
 umphant.— Grandest Modern Event.— America Resists Unjust Taxation.— Haughty Obsti- 
 nacy of King George.— Burning Eloquence of Patrick Henry.— His Summons, "We Must 
 Fight."— Washington Endorses this Sentiment.— Determination of the People.— War Prefer- 
 red 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.— Scorching 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 British Armies.— England Giyes Up the Contest.— World-wide Welcome to the New 
 Nation , , . . • f 
 
18 CONTENTS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Capitulation of General Burgoyne. — 1777. 
 First Royal Army Ever Surrendered to Americans. — Utter Failure of England's Grand Scheme 
 to " Subdue the Rebellious Colonies." — Eui-opean Sympathy for the Struggling Infant Na- 
 tion. — Alliance between France and the United States. — Brilliant and Effective Combination 
 of French and American Forces. — Gloomy Prospect for America in 1777. — Britain's Honor 
 Intrusted to Burgoyne. — His Magnificent Army. — Rebels to be Sternly Dealt With. — San- 
 guine Expectations of Success. — Savages Leagued with the Invaders. — Their Murder of 
 Miss McCrea. — Burgoyne's Triumphant Progress. — Fall of Ticonderoga. — American Victor- 
 ies at Bennington, etc. — Gates's Army in Fine Spirits. — General Eraser Shot Dead. — The 
 " King's Regulars " Desperate. — General Clinton Fails to Aid Them. — AH Hope Abandoned. 
 — Burgoyne Lays Down his Arms. — His Meeting with Gates. — Trophies of this Victory. — 
 How Washington Got the News. — Unbounded Joy of Americans. — Crushing Blow to British 
 Pride. — Effect upon Other Nations 72 
 
 in. 
 
 First American Naval Victory. — 1779. 
 
 John Paul Jones, Commanding the Bon Homme Richard, Fights and Captures King George's 
 Powerful Ship-of-war, the Serapis, in British Waters. — Crowds of Spectators Line the En- 
 glish 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. — Commo- 
 dore 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 Anec- 
 dotes. — Two British 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 Victorious 
 Vessel 81 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Wonderful Dark Day. — 1780. 
 
 The Northern States wrapt in a Dense Black Atmosphere for Fifteen Hours. — The Day of 
 Judgment Supposed to have Come. — Cessation of Labor. — Religious Devotions Resorted to. 
 — The Herds Retire to their Stalls, the Fowls to their Roosts, and the Birds Sing Their Even- 
 ing Songs at Noonday. — Science at I^oss to Account for the Mysterious Phenomenon. — One 
 of Nature's JVIarvels. — Redness of the Sun and Moon. — Approach of a Thick Vapor. — Loud 
 Peals of Thunder. — Sudden and Strange Darkness. — Alarm of the Inhabitants. — End of the 
 World Looked For. — Dismay of the Brute Creation. — 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 Objects. — Quick ISIotion 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 Wliims 
 and Conjectures. — An Unsolved Mystery 89 
 
 V. 
 
 Treason of Ma.tor-General Benedict Arnold. — 1780. 
 Darkest Page in American Revolutionary History.— Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar 
 of America, Over to the British. — IMovements of the Guilty Parties. — Discovery and Frus- 
 tration of the Crime. — Major Andie, the British Spy, is Cajitured, and Swings from a Gib- 
 bet. — Escape of Arnold to the Enemy. — Is Spurned and Isolated in England. — Arnold's 
 Unquestioned Bravery. — Conmiended by General Washington. — Infamous Personal Transac- 
 tions. — Reprimanded by His Chief. — Determines on Revenge. — Correspondence with the Foe. 
 — Ingratiates Washington's Favor Again. — Obtains Command of West Point. — Midnight 
 Conference with Andre. — Andre Seized while Returning. — Astounding Evidence Against 
 
CONTENTS. 19 
 
 Him. — Attempts to Bribe His Captors. — Carried to American Head-Quarters. — Arnold Ap- 
 prised 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 Mrs. 
 Arnold. — Andre's Trial and Conviction. — Arnold's Reward for His Crime. — His Unlamented 
 Death 97 
 
 VI. 
 
 CoKNWALLis Surrenders His Splendid Army to General Washington. — 1781. 
 Final Catastrophe to Biitish Arms in America.— Consternation and Despair in the Cabinet of 
 King George. — Their Vaunted Wager of Battle Returns to Them with the Loss of Their 
 Fairest Possession. — Washington's Countrymen Everywhere Hail and Extol Him as Their 
 Deliverer. — Last Act in the Military Drama. — Cornwallis 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 Bombard- 
 ment. — Redoubts Stormed by Lafayette. — Both Sides Confident of Triumph. — British Efforts 
 to Retreat. — Cornwallis Prefers Death to Defeat. — Reckless Bravery of Washington. — Ardor 
 and Exultation of His Troops. — Cornwallis Fails of Re-enforcements. — He Asks a Cessation 
 of Hostilities. — Forced to Yield the Struggle. — Universal Rejoicing of Americans. — Morti- 
 fication of the English. — Eloquence of Burke, Fox, and Pitt. — They Demand that the War 
 Cease. — The Voice of Parliament. — Commemorative Action by Congress 104 
 
 VIL 
 
 Adieu to the Army by Washington. — 1783. 
 
 Affecting Interviews and Parting Words between the Great Chieftain and His Comrades-in- 
 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 Washington. — The Army at Cambridge, Mass. — He Immediately 
 Takes Command. — Is Enthusiastically Greeted. — Leads Its Fortunes Seven Y^ears. — Record 
 of His Generalship. — Ends the War in Triumph. — Scheme to Make Him King. — Indig- 
 nantly 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 Annapolis. — Proceeds to the 
 Halls of Congress. — Impressive Ceremonial There. — Rare Event in Human History. . 112 
 
 VIIL 
 
 Appointment of the First Minister Plenipotentiary, from the New Republic 
 
 TO THE English Court. — 1785. 
 
 John Adams, Anierica's Sturdiest Patriot, and the Foremost Enemy of British Tyranny, Fills 
 this High Office. — Interview between Him and King George, His Late Sovereign. — Their 
 Addresses, Temper, Personal Bearing, and Ilumoious Conversation. — The Two Men Rightly 
 Matched against Each Other. — Old Animosities Unhealed. — Mutual Charges of False Deal- 
 ing. — Settlement Demanded by the United States.— What Adams's Mission Involved. — Dis- 
 memberment of the British Realm. — Loss of the Fairest Possession. — Bitter Pill for the 
 King.— His Obstinacy Forced to Y^ield.— Humiliation of the Proud Monarch.— All Euiope 
 Watches the Event.— Mr. Adams Presented at Court.— Patriot and King Face to Face.— 
 Official Address by the Minister.— Reply of King George.— His Visible Agitation.— Adams's 
 Presence of Mind.— Pays His Homage to the Queen.— Her Majesty's Response.— Civilities 
 by the Royal Family.— Results of this Embassy.— Pitiable Position of George the Third.— 
 Fatal Error of Great Britain 119 
 
 IX. 
 First Organized Rebellion in the United States. — 1786. 
 Daniel Shays, at the Head of an Armed and Desperate Force, Boldly Defies the State and Fed- 
 eral Laws in Massachusetts. — " Taxation and Tyrapny " the AUt^gt^fi Grievapces.^ — Alarming 
 
20 CONTENTS. 
 
 Disaffection throughout all New England. — Bad Leaders and Furious Mobs. — Rout of the 
 Insurgents, by General Lincoln, in the Dead of Winter. — Patriotic Old Massachusetts in a 
 Ferment. — Causes of Public Discontent. — Total Exhaustion of Credit. — Prostration of Trade. 
 — Ruinous Debts, Heavy Taxation. — Weakness of the Government. — An Excited Populace. 
 — Turbulence and Lawlessness. — All Authority Spurned. — A Bloody Conflict Invited. — 
 Courts of Justice Broken Up. — Indignation of Washington. — Heroism on the Bench. — The 
 National Forces Augmented. — Fears of a General Civil War. — Unscrupulousness of Shays. 
 — Intention to Seize the Capital. — Governer Bowdoin's Defenses. — General Lincoln in Com- 
 mand. — Active Movement of His Troops. — A Terrible Snow- Storm. — Hardships of Shays's 
 Army. — Federal Bayonets Triumphant 125 
 
 X. 
 
 Formation and Adoption of the Federal Constitution. — 1787. 
 
 The United States no Longer a People without a Government. — Establishment of the Repub- 
 lic on a Permanent Foundation of Unity, Organic Law and National Polity. — Dignity, 
 Learning, and Eloquence 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 Con- 
 vention. — Washington Chosen to Preside. — Statesmen and Sages in Council. — The Old Com- 
 pact Abrogated. — New Basis of Union Proposed. — Various Schemes Discussed. — Jealousy of 
 the Smaller States. — Angry Debates, Sectional Threats. — Bad Prospects of the Convention. — 
 Its Dissolution Imminent. — Franklin's Impressive Appeal. — Compromise and Conciliation. — 
 Final System Agreed Upon. — Patriotism Rules all Hearts. — Ratification by the States. — 
 National Joy at the Decision 132 
 
 XL 
 
 First Election and Inauguration of a President of the United States. — 1789. 
 
 Washington, " First in War, First in Peace, and First in the Hearts of His Countrymen," the 
 Nation's Spontaneous, Unaniumus Choice.^IIis Triumphal Progress from Home, and Sol- 
 
 , emu Induction into Office. — Jubilee throughout the Republic, over the August Event. — 
 Auspicious Commencement of the National Executive Government. — Requirements of the 
 Constitution. — A President to be Chosen. — Four Years the Term of Service. — All Eyes 
 Fixed Upon AVashington. — His Reluctance to Accept. — Reasons Given for this Course. — 
 Urgent Appeals to Him. — The Result of the Election. — One Voice and One Mind. — lie 
 Bows to the People's Will. — Joy Produced by His Decision. — Departs at Once from Mount 
 Vernon. — Farewell Visits to His Mother. — Inauguration Appointed for March Fourth. — 
 Postponement to April Thirtieth. — Order of Ceremonies. — New Spectacle in the Western 
 World. — Distinguished Celebi-ities Present. — Washington's Elegant Appearance. — Dignity 
 when Taking the Oath. — Reverentially Kisses the Bible. — Curious Customs Initiated. . 139 
 
 XIT. 
 Greatest Defeat and Victory of American Arms in the Indian Wars. — 1791. 
 
 Headlong Flight and Di^struction of St. Clair's Army, in 1791, before the Trained Warriors 
 of " Little Turtle." — This Mortifying Disaster Retrieved by Wayne's Overwhelming Tri- 
 umph in 1791.— Final and Crushing Blow Dealt by Jackson, in 1814. — The Question of 
 Power between the Two Races Forever Settled in Favor of the Whites. — Old Feuds between 
 the Races. — Harmer's Expedition to the North-west. — Powerless in Ambush Warfare. — 
 Repeated and Bloody Reverses. — St. Clair put in Command. — Warning Words of Washing- 
 ton. — Sudden Attack by the Miamis. — Terrible Slaughter of the Whites. — Overthrow of the 
 Whole Campaign. — Washington's Reception of the News. — His Appalling Wrath. — Sketch 
 of St. Clair's Conqueror. — His Fame at Home and Abroad. — General Wayne Sent to the 
 Field. — Unsuccessfully Proffers Peace. — Instantly Prepares for Battle. — Great Army of 
 Indian Warriors. — Their Sagacious Choice of I'osition. — Desperate Fury of the Conflict. — 
 Wayne's Prowess Irresistible. — Death Kuell of the Savages. — Their Confederacy Shat- 
 tered 146 
 
CONTENTS. 21 
 
 XIII. 
 Whitney's Extraordinary Cotton-Gin Invention. — 1793. 
 Amazing Impetus Given to the Culture, Uses and Consumption of Cotton. — Revolution in the 
 Industrial Prospects and Political Power of the South. — How Cotton Became "Kinfj." — Its 
 Relation to the Great Themes and Events in American History. — Ingratitude to Whitney. — 
 His Brilliant Change of Fortune in Another Sphere. — Whitney's Obscure Circumstances. — 
 His Early Mechanical Genius. — Determined to Get an Education. — Goes to the South as a 
 Teacher. — Change of Pursuits. — Befriended by General Greene's Widow. — Amateur Invent- 
 ive Efforts. — Low State of Southern Industry. — Objection to Cotton-Raising. — Mrs. 
 Greene's Apt Suggestion. — Whitney's Characteristic Resolve. — Secret and Persevering Toil. 
 — Exciting Rumors as to His Purpose. — Great Expectations Entertained. — Triumphant Suc- 
 cess. — Enthusiasm of the Cotton-Growers. — His Machine Stolen from Him. — Infringements 
 upon His Patent. — Law-Suits, but no Redress for Him. — His Pathetic Letter to Fulton. — 
 He Invents a Valuable Firearm. — Southern Strides iu Wealth 153 
 
 XIV. 
 The Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania. — 1794. 
 Violent Resistance to the United States Excise Laws. — Monster Meetings and Inflammatory 
 Appeals. — Officials and Loyal Citizens Whipped, Branded, Tari-ed, and Feathered. — Intense 
 Excitement in all the States. — Washington Declares that the Union is in Peril and Heads an 
 Army to Meet the Crisis. — Precipitate Flight of the Armed Rebels. — Congressional Tax on 
 Spirits. — Cry of " Tyranny ! " from Distillers. — Western Pennsylvania in a Blaze. — Extent of 
 Her Whiskey Interests. — Ambitious Politicians at Work. — A Revolt Incited by Them. — 
 Bradford the Chief Despei-ado. — Reign of Terror Inaugurated. — Tax-Collectors Roughly 
 Handled. — The Incendiary's Torch. — " Tom the Tinker's " Ruffianism. — Fury of the Fac- 
 tiouists. — Firm Courage of Loyal Men. — Perplexity of the United States Government. — 
 Presidential Proclamation. — Law and Order to be Maintained. — Troops Summoned into 
 Service. — Prompt and Patriotic Response. — The Olive Branch vs. the Sword. — Bradford 
 Scorns Conciliation. — Washington's Mind Made Up. — Prevents the Effusion of Blood. 160 
 
 XV. 
 
 Founding and Establishment of the National Capital. — 1799. 
 
 Bitter Sectional Contest in Deciding the Location. — First " Compromise " in Congress between 
 the North and the South. — Final Removal of the Government and its Archives to AVashing- 
 ton. — Official Observance of the Event. — Magnificent Site and Plan of the City. — Splendor 
 of its Public Buildings. — Congress First Sits in Philadelphia. — Need of a Permanent Capi- 
 tal. — National Dignity Involved. —Violent Agitation of the Subject. — Philadelphia and New 
 York Proposed. — They are Objected to by the South. — Northern Disunion Threats. — 
 Schemes of Conciliation. — How the Question was Settled. — Sweetening Two Bitter Pills. — 
 Jefferson's Graphic Account.— General Washington's Preference. — His Site on the Potomac 
 Adopted.— Some Rather Personal Anecdotes.— AVork of Laying Out the City.— Its Original 
 Aspect and Condition.— Early Trials of the President's Wife.— Construction of the Capitol. 
 — Its Corner-Stone Laid by Washington.— Congress in its New Halls.— Growth of the Me- 
 tropolis. — The New Corner-Stone of 1851 167 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Death of George Washington. — 1799. 
 His Sudden and Brief Illness, Last Hours, and Dying Words.— Fortitude and Serenity through 
 all His Suffijrings.- He Calmly Announces His Approaching Dissolution Without a Mur- 
 mur.— The AVhole World Does Honor, by Eulogy and Lamentations, to His Exalted AVorth 
 and Immortal Fame.— He Anticipated an Early Death.— His Invariably Good Health.— 
 Exposure in a Snow-Storm.— Takes a Fatal Cold.— Last Letter AA'ritten by His Hand.— 
 Reads the Papers in the Evening.— Characteristic Reply to His AVife.— Passes a Restless 
 Night.— Alarming Condition the Next Day.— Medical Treatment of no Avail.— Calls for His 
 Two AVills, Burns One.— Affecting Scene at His Bedside.— Last AVords, " 'Tis AVell 1 "— 
 
22 CONTENTS. 
 
 Only One Day's Sickness. — Acute Laryngitis His Disease. — Burial in the Old Family Vault. 
 — Tidings of His Death. — Ti-ibutes from Peoples and Kings. — A Man Without a Parallel. — 
 Last Page in His Journal. — Re-entombment in 1837. — Appearance of His Remains. . 174 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Punishment and Complete Degradation of the Bakbary States by the Young 
 
 Republic. — 1803. 
 
 Tribute Exacted of all the Nations of Christendom, by the Piratical Powers. — The Thunder of 
 American Cannon before Their Cities. — Ignominious Submission of Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, 
 and Tripoli. — Their Audacious Corsairs Vanquished and Driven in Terror from the Seas. — 
 A Boon to the Civilized World. — Barbary a Nation of Fi-eebooters. — All Commerce at their 
 Mercy. — The United States Unknown to Them. — Its Flag Descried on the Ocean. — Fresh 
 Plunder Anticipated. — Seizure of American Ships. — Retaliation by the Yankees. — Tripoli's 
 Flag Struck at Last. — Treaty between the Belligerents. — New Exactions by the Algerines. — 
 Retribution in Store for Them. — A United States Frigate in the Pirate Haunts. — Grounding 
 of the Philadelphia. — Her Triumphant Capture by the Enemy. — Their Boisterous Exulta« 
 tion. — Decatur Burns Her During the Night. — Fierce Rage of the Turks. — Bombardment of 
 Tripoli. — How " Christian Dogs " were Viewed. — Peace Sued for by the Despots. — Their 
 Duplicity and Treachery. — America's " Tribute " is Powder and Balls 182 
 
 XVIII. 
 Fatal Duel between Mr. Burr and General Alexander Hamilton. — 1804. 
 Fall of Hamilton at First Fire. — His Death in Thirty Houi-s. — 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 Brilliant Public Life. — 
 Washington's Right-hand Man. — Champion of the Federalists. — Burr's Career in the Revo- 
 lution. — His Notorious Debauchery. — Finally Dismissed by Washington. — Becomes Vice- 
 President in 1800. — Deadly Personal Hatreds. — Criticisms on Burr by His Opponents. — 
 Challenge Sent to Hamilton. — Pacific Explanations 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 Vv'^ound. — What He Said of the Event. — Conversation before Dying. — 
 Partakes of the Communion. — His Testimony against Dueling. — Heartless Conduct of 
 Burr. — A Fugitive and an Outlaw 189 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Total Solar Eclipse at Mid-Day. — 1806. 
 
 The Darkness of Night Falls upon the Earth. — Stars and Planets in Full Radiance. — Magnifi- 
 cent Spectacle of the Glittering Corona around the Moon and the Brilliant Rosy Protuber- 
 ances Flaming from the Sun. — Splendor of the Returning Night. — Similar Eclipse in 1869. 
 — INIillions of Faces Turned Upward. — The Phenomenon Viewed with Curiosity, Wonder, 
 and Absorbed Delight. — Remarkably Fine W<!ather. — Serene and Cloudless Heavens. — Busi- 
 ness 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 Exclamations. — Effect on Birds 
 and Animals. — Triumphs of Astronomical Science. — Exquisitely Constructed Instruments. 
 — Revelations of the Spectroscope. — Great Thermometrical Changes.— -Spots on the Sun Ex- 
 amined.— 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 Impres- 
 sive Scene 196 
 
 XX. 
 
 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 Treason. — 
 
CONTENTS. 23 
 
 Reckless Character of Burr. — His Unscrupulous Ambitions. — Enlists Blennerhassett in His 
 Plans. — Their Expedition Arranged. — ]\Iexico the Ultimate Point. — Discovery of the Whole 
 Plot. — Its Complete Frustration. — Burr Flees in Disguise. — Scene at His Arrest. — Attempt 
 to Escape. — The Iron-Hearted Man in Tears. — His Social Fascination. — Preparations for the 
 Trial. — Its Legal and Forensic Interest. — Acquittal on Technical Grounds. — Shunned as a 
 Man of Infamy. — Devotion of His Daughter Theodosia. — Lifelong and Unalterable Love. — 
 Her Mysterious Fate. — Burr's Anguish and Agony. — A Moral Wreck and Warning. . 204 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Fulton's Triumphant Application of Steam to Navigation. — 1807. 
 First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters under His Direction. — Astonishment Produced 
 by the Exhibition. — Great Era in National Development. — The World at Large Indebted to 
 American Ingenuity and Enterprise for this Mighty Revolutionary Agent in Human Prog- 
 ress and Povper. — The Whole Scale of Civilization Enlarged. — Fulton's Early Mechanisms. 
 — His Inventive Projects Abroad. — Steam Propulsion the End Sought. — Various Experi- 
 ments and Trials. — Livingston's Valued Co-operation. — Studying the Principle Involved. — 
 Its Discovery at Last. — Legislative Encouragement Asked. — Public Ridicule of the Scheme. 
 — Construction of a Steam-boat. — 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 Subse- 
 quent Increase. — Fulton's Checkered Fortunes. . * . . . 212 
 
 XXIL 
 
 Extensive and Calamitous Earthquake at fHE 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 Opinion of the AVestern Earthquake. — Its Central Point of Violence. — Terrible 
 Consternation Produced. — The Ground Swellings and Crackings. — Great Agitation of the 
 Waters. — Houses Buried, Boats Wrecked. — Giant Forests Crushed. — Purple Tinge of the 
 Atmosphere. — Thunder, Lightning, Flood, etc. — A Mighty Struggle. — Hills and Islands Dis- 
 appear. — Burial Grounds Engulfed. — Nature's Secrets Unbosomed. — Lakes Drained, New 
 One8 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 218 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Capture of the British Frigate Guerriere by the United States Frigate Con- 
 stitution. — 1812. 
 
 Captain Dacres's Insolent Challenge to the American Navy.— Captain Hull's Eager Accept- 
 ance.— His Unrivaled Tactics and Maneuvers.— A Short, Terrific, Decisive Contest.— Yankee 
 Valor on the Ocean a Fixed Fact, Sternly Respected.— The Constitution Becomes the Favor- 
 ite Ship of the Nation and is Popularly Called " Old Ironsides."— Cruise of the Constitution. 
 —Hull, the " Sea King," in Command.— A Sail ! The Enemy's Squadron !— Chased Three 
 Days by Them.— Rowing and Warping in a Calm.— Most Wonderful Escape on Record.— 
 Another Frigate in Sight, the Guei-riere.— Her Signals of Defiance.— Yankee Eagerness for 
 Action.— The Two Frigates Afoul.— Yard-Arm to Yard- Arm Encounter.— Fire of the Con- 
 stitution Reserved.— Final and Deadly Broadsides.— Fearless Conduct of Her Crew.— British 
 Colors Hauled Down.— Sinking of the Shattered Wreck.— Armament and Power of the 
 Ships.— An Almost Equal Match.— Anecdotes of the Two Commanders.— Honors to th-^ 
 Brave Victors.— Future Annals of the Constitution.— Her Varied and Noble Career. . 225 
 
24 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 America and England Matched Against Each Other in Squadron Combat. — 1813. 
 
 Lake Erie the Scene of the Encounter. — Sixteen Vessels Engaged. — The British, under Captain 
 Barclay, 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 Cap- 
 tured. — 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 Fleet. — Badly Crippled 
 in a Two Hours' Fight. — Huzzas of the Enemy. — The Day Supposed to be Theirs. — Indomi- 
 table Resolution of Perry. — He Pats Off in an Open Boat. — Reaches the Niagara with His 
 Flag. — Again Battles with the Foe. — Severe and Deadly Conflict. — American Prowess Invin- 
 cible. — Barclay Strikes His Colors. — Perry only Twenty-seven Years Old 234 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Conquest and Burning of Washington, by the British. — 1814. 
 Precipitate Flight of the President of the United States, and His Cabinet. — The Capitals of 
 Em'ope Protected from Fire and Devastation by Their Conquerors. — Contrast of British War- 
 fare in America. — The Capitol, Presidential Mansion, etc.. Sacked and Fired. — National In- 
 dignation Aroused by these Barbarities. — Veterans from Europe's Battle-Fields Execute 
 these Deeds. — Orders to "Lay Waste" the American Coast. — Operations at the South. — 
 Washington the Prize in View. — Inefficiency of its Defense.— Winder and Barney in Com- 
 mand. — The Idea of an Attack Scouted. — Onward March of the Invaders. — Fearful Excite- 
 ment in the City.— High Officials in Camp. — The Armies at Bladensburg. — Winder De- 
 feated, Barney Taken. — Ross's Progress Unopposed. — Complete Master of the City. — A Rush 
 for the Spoils. — British Soldiers in the White House. — They Eat the President's Dinner. — 
 Cockburn's Bold Infamy. — Retreat of the Vandal Foe. — Their March upon Baltimore. — Ross 
 Shot Dead in the Fight 242 
 
 XXVL 
 
 McDonough's Naval Victory on Lake Champlain. — 1814. 
 
 The Projected British Invasion of the Northern States, by Land and Water, Frustrated by an 
 Overwhelming Blow on their Favorite Element. — Most Unexpected and Mortifying Result 
 to the Enemy's Pride. — Not One of the Seventeen Bi'itish Ensigns Alsible Two Hours After 
 the Opening of the Action by Downie. — McDonough's Laconic Message. — British Advance 
 on New York. — Grand Scheme of Conquest. — Picked Men Employed. — Gi-eat Lund and 
 Naval Force. — Their Fleet on Lake Champlain. — Downie, a Brave Officer, Commands — 
 Flushed Confidence of Victory. — Pleasure Parties to " See the Fight." — Pluck of Commo- 
 dore McDonough. — His Pi'ayer on the Eve of Battle. — Strange and lieautiful Omen. — Its 
 Inspiriting Effect on the ]\Icn. — McDonough Sights the First Gun. — The Flagships in Close 
 Grap[)le. — Their Aspect Like a Sheet of Fire. — Tremendous Cannonade. — The Two Fleets 
 in Full Action. — Desperate Situation of Both. — McDonough's Extraordinary Resort. — 
 Downie Completely Circumvented. — At the Mercy of the Americans. — No English Flag on 
 the Lakes 250 
 
 XXVIL 
 General Jackson's Terrible Rout and Slaughter of the British Army, at New 
 
 Orleans. — 1815. 
 His Consummate Generalship in the Order and Conduct of this Campaign.— The War with 
 England Terminated by a Sudden and Splendid Victory to tlie American Arms. — Jackson is 
 Hailed as One of the Greatest of IModern Warriors, and as the Deliverer and Second Savior 
 of His Country. — National Military Prestige Gained by this Decisive Battle. — British Inva- 
 sion of Louisiana. — Preparations to Resist Them. — Jackson Hastens to New Orleans. — His 
 Presence Iusi>ires Confidence. — Martial Law Proclaimed.— Progress of the British Forces. — 
 
CONTENTS. 25 
 
 They Rendezvous at Ship Island.— rirates and Indians for Allies. — Capture of the United 
 States Flotilla. — Arrival of Veterans from England.— 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. — Start- 
 ling and Impressive Effect 257 
 
 XXVIII. 
 The Ever-Memorable September Gale. — 1815. 
 Its Violence and Destructiveness without a Parallel Since the Settlement of the Country. — 
 Terror Excited by its Sudden and Tumultuous Force. — Unprecedented Phenomena of Tem- 
 pest, Deluge and Flood. — One Hour of Indescribable Havoc on the Land and Sea. — Premon- 
 itory Indications. — Heavy North-east Rains. — Sudden and Violent Changes of Wind. — Its 
 Rapidity and Force Indescribable. — Demolition of Hundreds of Buildings. — Orchards 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, Fatali- 
 ties.— Peculiar Meteorological Facts.— Bright Skies in the Midst of the Tempest. — Suffo- 
 cating 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 Gales- . . 264 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Visit of Lafayette to America, as the Guest of the Republic. — 1824. 
 His Tour of Five 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 the Tomb and Stands beside the Remains of his 
 Great Departed Friend, Washington.— Noble Qualities of the Marquis.— A Favorite of 
 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. — Admiration of Him by the Chieftain. — One 
 of Washington's Military Family.— A Major-General in His Nineteenth Year.— Heroic Fi- 
 delity During the War.— Subsequent Vicissitudes in France.— America's Heart-felt Sym- 
 pathy.— He Leaves Havre for New York.— Enthusiasm Excited by his Presence.— Incidents, 
 Interviews, Fetes.— Greetings with Old Comrades.— Memories. Joys and Tears.— Departs in 
 the United States Ship Lafayette.— His Death in 1831.— National Grief 272 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Duel between Henry Clay, Secretary of State, and John Randolph, United 
 
 States Senator from Virginia. — 1826. 
 
 Randolph's Bitter Insult to Clay on the Floor of the Senate.— Accuses him of Falsifying an 
 Official Document.- The Puritan and " Blackleg " Taunt.— Clay Challenges the Senator to 
 Mortal Combat.— 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 Politi- 
 cal 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 INTutual Frit'nd.— Inci- 
 dents 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 Iniury. — " Honor " Satisfied. —Pleasant Talk with Each 
 Other 282 
 
26 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Fiftieth Anniversary and Celebration of the Independence of the 
 
 Republic— 1826. 
 
 Sudden and Simultaneous Death of Ex-Presidents John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, its Two 
 Most Illustrious Founders. — The Day of Resounding Joy and Jubilee Changed to One of 
 Profound National Sorrow, — No Historical Parallel to Such a Remarkable Coincidence. — 
 World-Renowned Career of these Statesmen. — Extraordinary Preparations for the Day. — 
 Adams and Jefferson then Alive. — Sires and Patriarchs of the Nation. — Their Names House- 
 hold Words. — Invited to Share in the Festivities. — They Hail the Glorious Morn. — Great 
 Rejoicings ; Death's Summons. — Jefferson's Distinguishing Honor. — Adams's Patriotic Lus- 
 ter. — Their Imperishable Deeds. — Calm Yet High Enthusiasm. — Hostile Leaders in After- 
 Life. — Racy and Piquant Anecdote. — Crisis Point in Adams's Fortunes. — His Last Toast 
 for His Country, — " Independence Forever." — Two Sages in Old Age. — Serenity, Wisdom, 
 Dignity. — Former Friendship Revived. — Letters of Mutual Attachment. — European Admir- 
 ation Excited, — Revereirce to Their Colossal Fame • 291 
 
 XXXII, 
 
 The " Great Debate " between Webster and Hayne, in Congress. — 1830, 
 
 Vital Constitutional Issues Discussed.— Unsurpassed Power and Splendor of Senatorial Elo- 
 quence. — Webster's Speech Acknowledged to be the Grandest Forensic Achievement in the 
 Whole Range of Modern Parliamentary Efforts. — Golden Age of American Oratoi-y, — Un- 
 precedented 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 Im- 
 pression Created. — Its Dash, Assurance, Severity. — Bitter and Sweeping Charges. — His Op- 
 ponents 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. — Accumu- 
 lative 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 297 
 
 XXXIIL 
 
 Rise and 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 and Con- 
 verts Obtained in All Parts of the World. — Founding and Destruction of Nauvoo, the *' City 
 of Zion." — Smith's Character. — Removal to Utah, the " Promised Land." — Smith the " Mo- 
 hammed of the West." — His Origin and Repute. — Pretended Supernatural Interviews, — 
 Revelations of Divine Records. — Finds and Translates Them, — Secret History of this 
 Transaction. — Pronounced to be a Fraud. — Teacliings of the Mormon Bible. — Smith Claims 
 to be Inspired. — Announced as a Second Savior, — Organization of the First 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 " Authorized. — Smith in Jail as a Criminal. — Is Shot Dead by a Furi- 
 ous Mob, — Brigham Young His Successor, — The " New Jerusalem." 306 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Career, Capture, and Execution of Gibbs, the Most Noted Pirate of the Cen- 
 tury,— 1831. 
 
 His Bold, Enterprising, Desperate, and Successful War, for Many Years, Against the Com- 
 merce 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 Ciews 
 and Passengers, Male and Female, Instantly Butchered. — Gibbs Born in Rhode Island.— 
 
CONTENTS. 27 
 
 Joins the Privateer Maria. — Captures Her in a Mutiny. — Hoists the Black Flag. — Gibbs 
 Chosen Leader. — Rendezvous at Cape Antonio. — Booty Sold in Havana. — No Lives Spared. 
 — One Beautiful Girl Excepted. — Atrocious Use Made of Her. — The Maria Chased All Day. 
 — Her Final Abandonment. — A New Craft : Rich Prizes. — Fight with a United States 
 Frigate. — Gibbs Overmatched and Flees. — Fatal Voyage in the Vineyard. — Lands at South- 
 ampton, L. I. — His Infamy Brought to Light. — Ai-rested with His Treasure. — Confession of 
 His Guilt. — Black Record of Crime and Blood.— Close of His Ill-Starred Life. . . . 314 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Nullification Outbreak in South Carolina, under the Lead of Calhoun, 
 
 McDuFFiE, Hayne, and Others. — 1832. 
 
 State Sovereignty, instead of the Federal Government, Claimed by Them to be Supreme. — 
 The Wrath of President Jackson Aroused. — His Stern and Heroic Will Upholds the Na- 
 tional Authority and Saves the Union from Anarchy and from the Perils of Dismember- 
 ment. — Momentous Nature of this Contest. — The Tariff a Rock of Offense. — Action in the 
 " Palmetto " State. — Anti-National and Defiant. — Pacific Proposals Scouted. — A Political 
 Dinner in Washington. — Jackson's and Calhoun's Toasts. — Plan of the Conspirators. — A 
 Bomb-shell in Their Camp. — Convention of Agitators in Columbia. — Nullification Ordinance 
 Passed. — " Old Hickory " Bold and Resolute. — His Peremptory Proclamation. — South Caro- 
 lina's Counter-Blast. — United States Troops Sent to Charleston. — Presidential Idea of Com- 
 promising. — Clay's Conciliation Scheme. — The Leading Nullifiers in Danger. — Jackson 
 Threatens to Hang Them. — They are Roused from Bed at Midnight. — Two Alternatives 
 Presented. — Swallowing a Bitter Pill 320 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 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 Veloc- 
 ity, Size, and Profusion of the Falling Bodies. — Their Intense Heat, Vivid Colors, and 
 Strange, Glowing Beauty. — Unequaled in Every Respect. — Cloudless Serenity of the Sky. — 
 The People Wonder-Struck. — Admiration Among the Intelligent. — Alarm Among the Ignor- 
 ant. — Conflagration of the AVorld Feared. — Impromptu Prayer-^Ieetings. — Prodigious Star 
 Shower at Boston. — Myriads of Blood-Red Fire-balls. — The Display at Niagara Falls. — Blaz- 
 ing Heavens, Roaring Cataracts. — Some of the Meteors Explode. — Trains of Light in their 
 Track. — Radiant Prismatic Hues. — Substance Composing these Bodies. — l)issi[)ated 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 Conti- 
 nent in Presumed Jeopardy < . < . * 329 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Attempted Assassination of President Jackson, at thf; United States Capitol 
 IN Washington, 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 Hostil- 
 ity 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.— Lawrelice Enters during the Ser- 
 mon.— Moves to the Eastern Portico.— President Jackson Leaves Avith 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 AIL— 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 Mad-house 337 
 
28 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXXYIII. 
 
 Morse's Invention of the Electric Telegraph. — 1835. 
 
 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, Discouragements, and Trimnphs. — "Orders of Glory," Gifts, and 
 Other Honors, Bestowed upon Him by Crowned Heads. — Casual Origin of the Invention. — 
 Mr. Morse's European Voyage in 1832. — Recent French Experiments then Discussed. — Im- 
 portant Question and Ansv^^er. — Two Great Existing Facts. — The Electric Spark Transmis- 
 sive. — Easy Control of the Current. — Theory Applied to Practice. — Completion of a Crude 
 Model. — Private Exhibition in 183.5. — Simplicity of the Instrument. — The Invention Made 
 Public in 1837. — Wonder and Incredulity. — Appeal to Congress for Pecuniary Aid. — Merci- 
 less 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 the 
 Wires to Baltimore. — First Message Through 345 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Tremendous Fire in New York City. — 1835. 
 
 Its Destructiveness Unparalleled, up to this Period, in the Western World. — Resistless Devas- 
 tation for Sixteen Hours in Midwinter. — A Pall of Ruin and Desolation over the Richest 
 Business Locality in America. — Nearly Seven Hundred Warehouses, Filled with Costly Mer- 
 chandise, and the Commerce of Every Clime, Laid in Ashes. — Loss Upwards of Eighteen 
 Millions. — Peculiar Seat of this Fire. — The Money Center of America. — Breaking Out in the 
 Evening. — Fury of the North Wind. — The Flames Spread Violently.— Bitter and Intense 
 Cold. — Freezing of the Engine Water. — All the Elements Hostile. — Human Endeavors Pow- 
 erless. — Acres on Fire at Midnight. — Sweeps from Point to Point. — Mingled Horror and 
 Sublimity. — Efforts to Save the Exchange. — Fate of that Splendid Pile. — Fall of its Magnifi- 
 cent Dome. — Numberless Reverses of Fortune. — Rich Men IVIade Penniless. — A Singular 
 Exception. — Swarms of Bold Robbers. — Military Protection Required. — Discovery of a 
 Diabolical Crime. — Supposed Cause of the Fire 353 
 
 XL. 
 
 Struggle for the Right of Petition in Congress. — 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 the " Gag Rule." — Ex- 
 pulsion and Assassination Threatened. — His Unquailing Courage. — A Spectacle Unwitnessed 
 before in the Halls of Legislation. — Triumph of His Master Mind. — The Right of Petition a 
 Constitutional One. — Indiscriminate and Unrestricted. — Anti-Slavery Petitions. Mr. Adams 
 Their Champion. — An Unpopular Position. — He Defies Every Menace. — His Bold and In- 
 trepid Conduct. — The North and South at Variance, — Monster Petitions Pour In. — A ^le- 
 morial 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. — Elo- 
 quence and Indomitableness. — A Petition to Dissolve the Union. — Increased Exasperation. 
 — Violent and Denunciatory Debate. — Sublime Bearing of Mr. Adams. — Vindicated and 
 Victorious at Last — What He Lived to See. — Honor from His Opponents 362 
 
 XLL 
 
 Passage of Benton's Famous " Expunging Resolution," in the U. S. Senate, after 
 A Three Years Parliamentary Struggle. — 1837. 
 
 Vindication of President Jackson against the Condemnatory Sentence Passed by that Body in 
 1831, for His Removal of the Government Deposites. — Strong Black Lines are Drawn Around 
 Said Sentence, by the Secretary, in the Presence of the Senate and of a Vast and Tumultu- 
 ous Crowd, at Midnight. — Opposition to the United States Bank. — Jackson's Message against 
 It. — Public Opinion Divided. — Congress Grants a Charter. — Presidential Veto of this Bill. — 
 Jackson Denounces the Bank. — Declares it to be Corrupt. — Orders the United States Funds 
 Removed. — Secretary Duane Declines to Act. — Taney Succeeds Him and Obeys. — Fierce 
 
CONTENTS. 29 
 
 Conflict in Congress. — "Weeks of Stormy Debate. — Proposed Censure of Jackson.- Resolu- 
 tion to this Effect Passed. — Benton's Motion to Expunge. — He Follows it up Unceasingly. — 
 His Consummate Tact. — Approach of the Decisive Hour. — Excited Crowds Pour In. — Triumph 
 of the Master Spirit. — Execution of the Resolve. — Strange and Impressive Scene. . . ;i73 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Magnificent Aurora Borealis Encompassing the Whole Firmament to its Far- 
 thest Bounds. — 1837. 
 
 A Vast Canopy of Gorgeous Crimson Flames Encircles the Earth. — Arches of Resplendent 
 Auroral (ilories Span the Hemisphere. — Innumerable Scarlet Columns of Dazzling Beauty 
 Rise from the Horizon to the Zenith. — The Face of Nature Everywhere Appears, to an As- 
 tonished World, as if Dyed in Blood. — Uncommon Extent and Sublimity. — Remarkable 
 Duration and Aspects. — Intensely Luminous Character. — Universal Outburst of Luster. — 
 Preceded by a Fall of Snow. — First Signs of the Phenomenon. — Exquisite Rosy Illumina- 
 tion. — The Snow Appears Deep Red. — A Fiery Vermilion Tinge to Nature. — Alarm Pro- 
 duced by the Scene.. — Great Moving Pillar of Light. — Vivid Streamers in All Directions. — 
 Pm-e White and Brilliant Colors. — Contrast of the Glowing Tints. — Wide Fields of Rainbow 
 Hues. — Radiant Beauty Heaven Wide. — Superlative Pageant of Splendor. — Perfection of the 
 Stellar Form. — Millions of Wondering Observers. — Visible Nearly the Whole Night. — Ac- 
 counts from Different Points. — Europe's Share in the Display 379 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Exploring Expedition to the South Pole, under Command of Captain Charles 
 
 Wilkes, United States Navy. — 1838. 
 
 First Naval Enterprise of the Kind Ever Undertaken by the American Navy. — The Squadron 
 Sails Ninety Thousand Miles in Four years. — Extent and Importance of the Investigations. 
 — Discovery of the Great Antarctic Continent. — Other Geographical, Nautical, and Scientific 
 Results. — Selection of Officers and Vessels. — A Scientific Corps Organized. — Route Pre- 
 scribed ; Seas and Lands. — Enthusiastic Departure. — Arrival at Terra del Fuego. — Observa- 
 tions at Cape Horn. — Excursion to the Cordilleras. — Ascent of a Lofty Peak. — Desolation 
 and Silence — New Islands Discovered. — An Observatory Established. — The Samoan Group 
 Examined. — Descent into an Extinct Volcano. — New South Wales Visited. — Extreme South- 
 ward Cruise. — View of the Ice-Bound Continent. — A Landing Effected. — Account of this 
 Achievement. — Experiences at Feejee. — On the Summit of Mauna-Loa. — Homeward-Bound 
 Tracks. — Safe Arrival 386 
 
 XLIV. 
 Breaking Out of the Temperance Reformation. — 1840. 
 Origin, Rapid Spread, Influence and Wonderful History of the Movement. — Enthusiasm At- 
 tending the " Washingtonian " Era. — Its Pioneers Rise from the Gutter to the Rostrum, and 
 Sway Multitudes by Their Eloquence.— Father Mathew's Visit.— His 600,000 Converts.— Ca- 
 reer of Hawkins, Mitchell, Gough, Dow, and Others.— First Temperance Society in the 
 United States. — Singular Terms of Membership.— Social Customs in Former Times.— Unre- 
 strained Use of Spirits.— Growing Desire for Reform.— Influential Men Enlisted.— Meetings, 
 Societies, Agitation. — A Congressional Organization. — Origin of " Tee-Totalism." — Deacon 
 Giles's Distillery.— '• My Mother's Gold Ring."— Rise of " Washingtonianism."— Six Re- 
 formed Drunkards.— Cold Water Armies, Processions, etc.— Music, Banners, and Badges.— 
 The Country All Ablaze.— An " Apostle of Temperance."— Administering the Pledge.— Con- 
 flict Concerning Measures. — Anecdotes of Washington. — General Taylor's Whiskey Jug. — 
 Farragut's Substitute for Grog 393 
 
 XLV. 
 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 the Rocky Mount- 
 ains, the South Pass.— Plants the American Flag on the Highest Peak of that Lofty Range. 
 
30 CONTENTS. 
 
 — He Enriches Every Branch of Natural Science, and Illustrates a Eemote and Boundless 
 Country before Entirely Unknown. — Fremont a Pioneer of Empire. — National Objects of 
 this Tour. — Enchanting Record of Adventures. — Surveys and Researches. — Humboldt's 
 Tribute of Admii-ation. — Wild Grandeur of the Route. — Scenes in this Vast Domain. — 
 The Rocky Mountains ; First Glimpse. — Formation of the South Pass. — " Kit Carson," the 
 Intrepid Guide. — At the Topmost Peak, 14,000 Feet. — Startling Boldness of the View. — 
 Overpowering Quiet and Solitude. — Evidences of Awful Convulsions. — 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 Path- 
 Finder. — Honors from his Countrymen. — A King's Gift and Regards 402 
 
 XL VI. 
 
 Rebellion in Rhode Island under Thomas W. Dorr. — 1842. 
 Dissatisfaction With the Old Restricted Charter Granted by King Charles. — Popular Suffrage 
 and Equal Political Privileges Demanded. — Resistance of the Party in Power to these 
 Movements. — The Contestants Arm and Take the Field. — Defeat of the Agitators and Flight 
 of Dorr. — Ultimate Prevalence of Their Principles. — A Charter Two Hundred Years Old. — 
 Its Monarchical Provisions. — Suffrage for Property Holders. — Denied to all Others. — An Ex- 
 clusive Legislature. — Reformed Measures Demanded. — A People's Convention Called. — 
 They Form a Constitution. — Proclaimed the Supreme Law. — Legislature Chosen under It. — 
 Thomas W". Dorr Elected Governor. — Is Treated as a Traitor. — Claims to be the People's 
 Man. — Governor King's Military Activity. — Dorr Heads a Large Force. — Tries to Seize the 
 Reins of Power. — Is Routed ; Quits the State. — Returns Again to the Conflict. — Enti-enches 
 at Chepachet ; Retreats. — Tried for Treason and Imprisoned. — Pardoned and Restored. — 
 Something About " Barn-Burning," or the Anti-Rent Insurrection in New York. . . . 408 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Mutiny o?? Boapd the United States Brig-of-War Somers, Captain A. S. Mac- 
 kenzie. — 1842. 
 
 Deep-Laid Plot to Seize the 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 L'nited States 
 Cabinet Officer, the Ringleader. — The Chief Conspiiators Hung at the Yard-Arm. — First 
 Mutiny in the United States Navy. — Spencer's Hold Upon His Comrades. — Death the Pen- 
 alty of Disclosure. — Confidence Fortunately Misplaced. — 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 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 415 
 
 XLVIIL 
 
 Sudden Appearance of a Great and Fiery Comet in the Skies at Noonday. — 1843. 
 
 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 Pro- 
 digious 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. — First 
 Visible in the Day-time. — Its Conspicuous Aspect. — Strange and Chreatening Motion. — Goes 
 Twice ArouTid the Sun. — Their Su]>posed Contact. — Becomes Red in Passing. — Recedes 
 Straight to the Earth. — Watched with Deep Concern. — Tlie 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 
 ITirough the Train. — Appearance in the Equator. — Like a Stream of Molten Fire. — Beauti- 
 ful Ocean Reflection. — Double Sweep of the Tail.— Other Cometary Phenomena. . . 424 
 
CONTENTS. 31 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Expected Destruction op the World. — 1843. 
 
 Miller's Exciting 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 Converts. — Public Feeling Intensely Wrought Upon. — Preparations by 
 Many for the Coming Event. — The Passing of the Time. — Miller's Apology and Defense. — 
 — His Deism in Early Life. — Studies History and Scripture. — Is Struck by the Prophecies. — 
 Reads Daniel and John, Critically. — Calculates Their Time. — "About 1843," the Consumma- 
 tion. — Basis of these Conclusions. — Reluctantly Begins to Lecture. — Interesting Incident. — 
 His Labors and Enthusiasm. — Three Thousand Lectures in Ten Yeai's. — Secret of his Great 
 Success. — Approach of the Final Day. — Cessation of Secular Pursuits. — Encamping in the 
 Fields, in Grave-yards and on Roofs. — Some Curious Extravagances. — Rebuked by Miller. 
 — Repeated Disappointments. — Misinterpretation of Texts. — Miller as a Man and Preacher. 
 — His Calm and Happy Death 431 
 
 Awful Explosion of Commodore Stockton's Great Gun, the "Peacemaker," on 
 Board the United States Steamship Princeton. — 1844. 
 
 The Secretaries of State and of the Navy, and Other Eminent Persons, Instantly Killed. — 
 Miraculous Escape of the President. — Sudden Transition from the Height of Human Enjoy- 
 ment to the Extreme of Woe. — Stockton's High Enthusiasm. — His Vast and Beautiful Ship. 
 — Her Model and Armament. — Styled the Pride of the Navy. — Invitations for a Grand Gala 
 Day. — President Tyler Attends. — Countless Dignitaries on Board. — Array of Female Beauty. 
 — Music, Toasts, Wit and Wine. — Firing of the Monster Gun. — Its Perfect Success. — " One 
 more Shot ! " by Request. — A Stunning and Murderous Blast. — Bursting of the Gun, — Death 
 All Around. — Frightful Shrieks and Groans. — Scattering of Mangled Remains. — Agony of 
 Woman's Heart. — Standing-Place of the President : Absent Just One Moment. — The Dead 
 in Union Flags. — Funeral at the White House 439 
 
 LI. 
 
 Trial and Degradation of the Bishops of the Neav York and Pennsylvania Dio- 
 ceses, FOR Alleged Immorality, Etc. — 1844. 
 
 These Two Most Powerful Prelates in the Church of Their Order are Struck from the Roll of 
 the Clergy, while in the Zenith of their Fame. — No Parallel Case among Consecrated Digni- 
 taries, since the Reformation. — A Case of Melancholy Celebrity. — Extraordinary even to 
 Romance. — Other Similar Instances. — Exalted Character of the Bishops. — Venerable Age. — 
 Splendid Abilities. — Terrible Effect of the Scandal. — Confession of the Bishop of Pennsyl- 
 vania. — Interview with the New York Bishop. — His Alleged Libertinism. — Solemn Arraign- 
 ment. — Some of the Evidence Given. — Charged with Gross Improprieties. — Testimony of 
 Ladies. — His Acts while Riding to Church. — The House of Ill-Fame Story. — Its Emphatic 
 Denial by the Bishop. — Animus of the Whole Movement. — Pleas of the Rival Counsel. — 
 Found " Guilty by His Peers." — Sentence of Suspension Imposed. — Efforts to Restore Him. 
 — His Dying Declaratious.^Affecting Tributes to His Memory, by all Parties. . . . 448 
 
 LH. 
 
 Discovery of the Inhalation of Ether as a Preventive of Pain. — 1846. 
 Performance of Surgical Operations Involving the Intensest Torture, During the Happy Un- 
 consciousness of the Patient. — Account of the First Capital Demonstration before a Crowded 
 and Breathless Assembly.— Its Signal Success.— Thrill of Enthusiastic Joy.— IMost Benefi- 
 cent Boon Ever Conferred by Science upon the Human Race. — Instinctive Dread of Pain. — 
 Fruitless Search Hitherto for a Preventive. — Terror of the Probe and Knife. — Heroes Quail 
 before Them.— Case of the Bluff Old Admiral.— Discovery of the Long-Sought Secret.— Sul- 
 phuric Ether the Prize. — Bliss During Amputation.— Honor Due to America. — A Whole 
 World Elated.— Medical Men Exultant.— Curious Religious Objections.— Test-Case in Sur- 
 gery.— Startling and Romantic Interest.— Value in Public Hospitals.^War's Sufferings 
 
32 CONTENTS. 
 
 Ameliorated. — Various Effects While Inhaling. — Amusing and Extraordinary Cases. — 
 " Thocht the Deil Had a Grip o' Her ! "—Odd Talk of an Innocent Damsel.— Old Folks 
 Wanting to Dance. — Awards to the Discoverers 456 
 
 LIIL 
 Inventiox of that Wondrous Piece of Mechanism, the Sewing Machine. — 1846. 
 Romantic Genius and Perseverance Displayed in Its Production. — Toils of the Inventor in His 
 Garret. — World-Wide Introduction of the Device. — Upwards of One Thousand Patents 
 Taken Out in the United States. — The Industrial Interests of the Country Affected to the 
 Amount of t$500,000,000 Annually. — The Humble Inventor Becomes a Millionaire. — The 
 Main Principle Involved. — Comparison With Hand Sewing. — How it was Suggested. — Lis- 
 tening to Some Advantage. — History of Mr. Howe's Efforts. — Ingenuity, Struggles, Triumphs. 
 — Value of a Friend iu Need. — A Machine at Last. — Its Parts, Capabilities, etc. — Reception 
 by the Public. — Doubt Succeeded by Admiration. — Great Popularity and Demand. — Weari- 
 some Litigation With Rivals. — Interesting Question of Priority. — Decided in Howe's Favor. 
 — He Rises to Affluence. — Improvements by Others. — Unique and Useful Devices. — Number 
 of Machines Produced. — Time and Labor Saved. — Effect Upon Prices. — New Avenues of 
 Labor Opened 464 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Spiritual Knockings and Table-Tippings. — 1847. 
 
 Familiar Intercourse Claimed to be Opened between Human and Disembodied Beings. — Al- 
 leged 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. — First Rappings 
 in Hydesville, New York. — Time, Manner, Circumstances. — Murdered Man's Spirit. — How 
 the Mystery Was Solved. — Rappings, the Spirit Language. — Its Interpretation Discovered. — 
 Two Yoi^ng Gii'ls the " Mediums." — Their Harassed Experience. — Public Efforts 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. — Universal Wonder Excited.— -Theories of Explanation. — Investigations and 
 Reports.— Views of Agassiz, Herschel, etc. — Press and Pulpit Discussions. — Different Opin- 
 ions as to tjie Tejidejicy of the Phenoniena. — Thirty Years' History 472 
 
 LV, 
 
 Voyage of the United States Ship Jamestown with a Cargo of Food for the 
 
 Starving in Ireland. — 1847. 
 
 Famine, Pestilence, Woe and Death Sweep Frightfully Over that Land. — Appeal to the Sympa- 
 thy of Nations. — The Tale of Horror Borne Across the 4-tlantic. — Spontaneous Generosity 
 of America. — A Sliip of War Converted into a Ship of Peace, and Laden with Free Gifts for 
 the Suffering. — Total Failure of the Potato Crop. — A Universal Scourge.— Disease Added to 
 Destitution. — Ghastly Scenes on Every Side.— ^Multitudes Perish in the Streets. — Parliament 
 Grants $50,000,000. — The Message of Hun^anity.— ^Anjerica's Ready Bounties. — ^Use of the 
 Jamestown Granted. — Food Substituted for Guns.— Interesting Bill of Lading. — Departure 
 from Boston. — Enthusiastically Cheered. — Only Fifteen Days' Passage. — Going up the Har- 
 bor of Cork. — Tlirougs of Famished Spectators.— Tun^ultuous Greetings on Arrival. — Public 
 Welcomes and Honors. — A Tour of Inspection. — Indescribable HorrQrs.-^Distribntion of the 
 Cargo. — The Mission a Great Success ,.,,,,,... 479 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Genkral Scott in the Halls of the Montezumas, as the Conqueror qf Mex- 
 ico.— 1847. 
 
 General Taylor's Unbroken Series of Victorious Battles from Palo Alto to Buena Vistjv.-r- 
 Flightof Santa Anna in the Dead of Midnight. — The Stars and Stripes Float Triumphantly 
 from the Towers of the National Palace. — Fii'st Foi'eign Capital Ever Occupied by the 
 
CONTENTS. 33 
 
 United States Army. — Peace on the Invaders' Own Terms. — Original Irritation between the 
 Two Powers. — Disputed Points of Boundary. — Mexico Refuses to Yield. — General Taylor 
 sent to the 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 War-like Summons. — It is Treated with Contempt. — 
 His Awful Defeat at Buena Vista. — Doniphan's March of Five Thousand Miles. — Vera 
 Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, Churubusco, etc. — Scott's Order, "On to Mexico! " — Huzzas 
 and a Quick-Step. — 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 487 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Expedition to the River Jordan and the Dead Sea, by Lieut. W. F. Lynch. — 1847. 
 
 The Sacred River Successfully Circumnavigated and Surveyed. — Twenty Days and Nights 
 upon the " 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 Land. — 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. — Configui'ation 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. . 494 
 
 LVIIL 
 
 Discovery of Gold at Sutter's Mill, California. — 1848. 
 
 Widely-Extended and Inexhaustible Deposits of the Precious Metal. — The News Spreads Like 
 Wild-Fire 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 Dis- 
 covery of 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 Dra- 
 matic 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 
 Machinery. — Order and Stability Reached. — Population in 1857, 600,000. — Gold in Ten 
 Years, $600,000,000 500 
 
 LIX. 
 AsTOR Place Opera-House Riots, New York. — 1849. 
 Terrible Culmination of the Feud between Macready, the English Star Actor, and Forrest, the 
 Great American Tragedian. — Macready Commences to Perform, but is Violently Driven 
 from the Stage. — A Mob of 20,000 Men Surrounds the Theater, and Thunders at its Doors. 
 — Attempt to Fire and Destroy the House. — Charge of the Military. — Lamentable Loss of 
 Life. — Fame of these Great Actors. — Their Former Mutual Friendship. — Macready's Tour 
 in this Countiy. — Forrest Performs in Europe. — Professional Jealousies Aroused. — Open 
 Rupture at Last. — Macready Again in America. — Engages to Play in New York. — Opposi- 
 tion to Him There. — Appears on the Stage, May Eighth. — Fierce Tumult in the House. — 
 Groans, Hisses, Insults. — He Stands Undismayed. — Flight of the Audience. — Re-appearance, 
 May Tenth. — The House Filled to the Dome. — Riotous Yells and Cries. — " Down with the 
 British Hog ! " — Heroic D3meanor on the Stage. — Threats of the Raging Mob. — Its Bloody 
 
 Dispersion. — Macready Leaves the Country. . 508 
 
 3 
 
34 CONTENTS. 
 
 LX. 
 Awful Visitations of the "Angel of Death." — 1849. 
 Yellow Fever and Cholera Epidemics at Different Periods.— Frightf id Mortality and Panic in 
 1849. — Business Abandoned, Churches Closed, Streets Barricaded, Cities Deserted. — Proc- 
 lamation by the President of the United States. — The Virtues, Passions, and Vices of Hu- 
 man Nature Strikingly Illustrated. — Tens of Thousands Swept at Once from the Face of the 
 Earth. — Various Eras of American Epidemics. — Wide and Ghastly Ravages. — Self-Preserva- 
 tion 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 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." 515 
 
 LXL 
 
 Murder of Dr. George Parkman, a Noted Millionaire of Boston, by Prof. John 
 
 W. Webster, of Harvard College. — 1819. 
 
 High Social Position of the Parties. — 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. — Parkman's Wealth and Fame. — Mysterious Disappear- 
 ance, November Twenty-third. — Appointment with Professor Webster that Day. — Their Un- 
 happy Pecuniary Relations. — Search for the Missing Millionaire. — Webster's Call on Pai'k- 
 man's Brother. — Explains the Interview of November Twenty-third. — No Trace of Parkman 
 After that Date. — The Medical College Explored. — Scene in Webster's Rooms. — The Tea- 
 Chest, Vault, and FurnaoB. — Human Remains Found There. — Identified as Doctor Park- 
 man's. — Ai-rest 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 tlie Crime. — Hung Near the Spot 
 of his Birth. — The Similar and Tragical Case of John C. Colt, Murderer of Samuel 
 Adams 523 
 
 LXIL 
 
 The United States Grinnell Expeditions of 1850 and 1853, to the Arctic 
 
 Seas.— 1850. ' 
 
 Search for Sir John Franklin, the Lost Navigator. — Traces of His Melancholy and JMysterious 
 Fate. — Dr. Kane's Discovery of an Open Polar Sea, Three Thousand Square Miles in Area. — 
 The " Great Glacier," a Lofty and Dazzling Ice-Wall of Boundless Dimensions. — The " Stars 
 and Stripes" Carried Farther North than Any Other Flag. — Origin of this Undertaking. — 
 Franklin's Bold Enterprise. — No Tidings of Him for Years. — Vessels Sent in Search. — Lady 
 Franklin's Warm Appeal. — Mr. Grinnell's Noble Response. — Fits Out DeHaven's Expedi- 
 tion. — Sailing of the Advance and Rescue. — Franklin's Winter Quarters Found. — Dellaven 
 Imbedded in Ice. — Eighty Days Polar Darkness. — Fruitless Efforts ; Return Home. — Renewed 
 Search by Dr. Kane. — At tlie Extreme Solitary North. — Its Terror and Sublimity. — Mer- 
 cury and Whiskey Freeze Solid. — No Sunliglit for Five Months. — A Vast Crystal Bridge. — 
 It Connects Two Continents. — Kane Ice-Bound ; Awful Perils. — One Thousand Three Hun- 
 dred Miles Traveled in Sledges. — Final Escape ; Arrival Home. — Dr. Hayes's Heroic Ad- 
 ventures 533 
 
 LXTIL 
 Brilliant Musical Tour of Jenny Lind, the " Swedish Nightingale." — 18.50. 
 This 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 
 
CONTENTS. 35 
 
 the Land by the Presence of the Fair Niglitingale.— Honors from Webster, Clay, and Oilier 
 Dignitaries.— Her Traises Fill the Wide World.— The Vocal Prodigy of the Age.— An Opera, 
 the '• Daughter of the Regiment." — Harnum's Happy Conception. — Proposes to Her this 
 American Tour.— His Generous Terjns Accepted.— She Reaches New York.— Sunny and Joy- 
 ous Outburst. — A Real " Jenny-Lind " Era. — First Concert at Castle Garden. — 1'empest of 
 Acclamation. — Encores, Showers of Bouquets.— Public Expectation Exceeded. — Jenny's Com- 
 plete Triumph.- All the Receipts Given to Charity.— Equal Enthusiasm Everywhere.— Beau- 
 tiful Incidents.— She is a Guest at the White House.— Henry Clay at Her Concert.— Welv 
 ster and the Nightingale. — A Scene " Not Down on the Bills." — Ninety-five Concerts Yield 
 §700,000 541 
 
 LXIV. 
 Reign of the Vigilance Committee in California. — 1851. 
 Revolution in the Administration of Justice. — Powerlessness and Indifference of the Regular 
 Authorities. — 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 Committee Formed.— Prompt, Resolute, Powerful.— The 
 Criminals Taken Unawares.— Instant Summons to Death.— A Gallows at Midnight.— Ex- 
 traordinary Horrors. — Confessions by the Victims. — Astounding 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 Move- 
 ment 550 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Victorious Race of the Yacht "America," in the Great International 
 
 Regatta. — 1851. 
 
 rsne Distances, by Nearly Eight ISfiles, 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. 
 — Admiration Excited 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 Move- 
 ments.— Allows Herself to be Distanced.— Her Quality Soon Shown.— No "Bellying" 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 558 
 
 LXVL 
 
 Frightful Catastrophe in a New York Five-Story Public School-House Contain- 
 ing Eighteen Hundred Pupils. — 1851. 
 
 Panic Caused by a Call for " Water."— Furious Rush of the Little Ones Throughout the Vast 
 Building, to Escape the Supposed Fire.— The Stair Railing Breaks, and They are Precipitated 
 to the Bottom, in Helpless Agony.— Nearly Fifty Children, in Their Beauty and Innocence 
 Suffocated to Death.— Hundreds of Families in Mourning.— Slight Source of all this Horror. 
 —Sudden Illness of a Teacher.— Cries of " Help ! " for Her.— Heard in the Other Rooms.— 
 Fatal Misapprehension.— Instant and Awful Fright.— Vain Attempts to Escape.— They all 
 Pour Forth at Once.— The Street-Door Locked !— Bewildered Crowds.— Their Headlong 
 Descent.— A Pile of Bodies Fourteen Feet Square.— Their Sighs and Writhings.— Arrival of 
 the Firemen.— Entiance Effected by Them.— Thousands Waiting Outside.— Indescribable 
 Excitement.— Anguish of Parents.— Rescuing the Sufferers.— Scenes Among the Little Ones. 
 — Sweet and Tender Devotion. — Burial of the Innocents 567 
 
36 CONTENTS. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Appearaxce op the Marine Moxster Known as the Sea-Serpent, along the At- 
 lantic Coast. — 1851. 
 
 Statements of Numerous Eye-AVitnesses, as to Its Form, Size, Coloi', and Movements. — Esti- 
 mated Lengtli, One Hundred Feet. — Its Body Cylindrical in Shape, and of the Diameter of 
 a Large Cask. — Effect of Shot upon the Animal. — Astonishing Rapidity of Its Course. — 
 Observers Struck with Wonder and Awe at Such a Sight. — The Monarch of the Deep. — 
 Opinions of Scientific Men. — Existence of the Animal Proved. — Evidence on this Point. 
 — Reliability of the Witnesses. — Their Various Descriptions. — Concurrence of Testimony. — 
 No Similar Sea Animal. — Seen in Diffei-ent Localities. — Observed from Sea and Shore. — 
 Frequents New England. — Nearer Views Obtained of Him. — Clear Weather, Smooth Seas. 
 — Drawings Made on the Spot. — His Gigantic Dimensions. — Linnsean Society's Report. — 
 Supposed to be the " Leviathan." — His Steady and Onward Pace. — A Mile in Three IMin- 
 utes. — Attitude of the Body. — Elevation of the Head. — Dark Brown the Chief Color. . 575 
 
 LXVIIL 
 
 Reception of Governor Kossuth, the Great Hungarian Exile, as the Invited 
 
 Guest of the Nation. — 1851, 
 
 Splendid Military Pageant in New York, on His Arrival. — Welcomed and Banqueted by Presi- 
 dent Fillmore. — Received with Distinguished Official Honors on the Floor of Congress. — 
 He Eloquently Pleads His Country's Cause in All Parts of the Land. — Processions, Congratu- 
 latory Addresses, Acclamations, Etc. — A True-Hearted Patriot. — What 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. — The Nation's Courtesy Accepted. — Fi'igate Mississippi 
 Sent. — Kossuth and Suite on Board. — His Landing at New York. — Magnificent Preparations 
 for Him. — Invited to Washington. — Speech before Congress. — An Unprecedented Distinc- 
 tion. — His Untiring Labors. — Greatest Orator of the Day 583 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 Naval Expedition to Japan, under Commodore M. C. Perry. — 1852. 
 Negotiations to be Opened for Unsealing the Ports of that Empire to America. — Letter of 
 Friendship from the President of the United States to the Emperor. — Distinguished Favor 
 Shown the Representatives of the Great Republic. — Ceremonies, Entertainments, and Diplo- 
 matic Conferences. — Treaty of Peace, Amity, and Commercial Intercourse Concluded. — 
 Former Japanese Isolation Policy. — Exclusive Privileges to the Dutch. — Effects of this Re- 
 striction. — European Efforts to Change It. — Mission of Commodore Biddle. — Seeks the 
 Release of United States Sailors. — Ordered to Depart Forthwith. — Firm Conduct of Captain 
 Glynn. — Contempt for Japanese Etiquette. — Champagne as a ]\Iediator. — Commodore Peri-y's 
 Fine Fleet. — The Letter in a Golden Box. — Its Presentation to the Emperor. — Commissioners 
 ]\Ieet Commodore Perry. — Their Attire, Manners, Etc. — The Conference in Session. — Friend- 
 liness of the Japanese. — Civilities and Festivals. — Reception on the Flag-Ship. — Substance 
 of the Treaty. — A Talk with the Emperor. — JNIore Privileges Extended 592 
 
 LXX. 
 
 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 Covered with the Treasures of Art, Science and Mechanism, from Every Land. — 
 Inauguration of the Enterprise by President Pierce. — Five Thousand Co iributors. — Splen- 
 dor of the Palace of Industry by Day ; Its Gorgeous Illumination at Night. — Eclat of the 
 Great London Fair. — EnuUation Stinnilated 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 Prog- 
 ress of the Enterprise. — Interest of Foreign Countries Enlisted. — Programme of Manage- 
 
CONTENTS. 37 
 
 meat. — Brilliant Ceremony at the Opening. — Celebrities Present : Speeches Made. — Grand 
 Ilallolujali Chorus Sung. — Constant Tide of Visitors.— Beauty, Utility, Amusement. — At- 
 tractions from Abroatl. — Contributions by Monarchs. — Victoria's Beautiful Offering. — The 
 Grand Industries of Civilization. — Lesson Taught by Such a Display. — Luster Reflected on 
 America 600 
 
 LXXL 
 
 Loss OF THE Splendid Collins Steamship Arctic, of New York, by Collision with 
 
 THE Iron Ste.\mer Vesta. — 1854. 
 
 OccmTence 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 all Lips. — Captain Luce in the Hour of Woe. — Manliness of 
 His First Order. — Ship Deserted by the Crew. — " Every Man for Himself." — A Raft Con- 
 structed, but in Vain. — Courage of the Women. — Not One of their Sex Saved. — Instances 
 of Cool Bravery. — An Engineer's Heroic Fidelity. — £30,000 for a Chance in a Boat. — Pleas- 
 ure Tourists on Board. — All of Mr. CoUins's Family Lost 608 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Assault on the Hon. Charles Sumner, by Hon. Preston S. Brooks. — 1856. 
 Twer.ty Sudden and Terrible Blows, with a Solid Gutta Percha Cane, Dealt upon Mr. Sum- 
 ner'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. Sumner's Scorching 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 is 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 616 
 
 LXXIIL 
 
 Horrible and Mysterious Murder of Dr, Burdell, a Wealthy New York Den- 
 tist, IN His Own Office. — 1857. 
 
 Fifteen Ghastly Stabs Upon His Body. — Arrest and Trial of Mrs. Cunningham, His Land- 
 lady and Mistress, for the Crime. — Her Claim to be His Widow and Heiress. — She Secretly 
 Borrows an Infant, to which She Pretends to Give Birth as Doctor Burdell's Child. — Dis- 
 graceful Revelations of Intrigue and Infamy in Fashionable Life. — Shocking Butchery of 
 the Doctor. — Found Dead by His Office-Boy. — Bloody Appearance of the Room. — Mrs. Cun- 
 ningham's Character. — Unscrupulous and Strong-Minded. — Her Repeated Threats. — Jeal- 
 ousies, Hostilities, Schemings. — Doctor Burdell in Fear for His Life. — Speaks of Her with 
 Terror. — The IMurder Announced to Mrs. Cunningham. — She Embraces and Kisses the 
 Corpse.— Dark Case for Her in Court. — Insufficient Proof; Acquitted.— New Chapter in the 
 Drama. — Her Assumed Pregnancy. — Offers One Thousand Dollars for an Infant.— How It 
 was Obtained. — Her Mock Confinement. — Joy over " Her Dear Baby." — Exposure of tlie 
 Daring Plot. — Greatest of New York Murders. — Robinson and Jewett Case 026 
 
 *o 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Foundering of the Steamer Central America, in a Gale, off Cape Hatteras. — 1857. 
 
 More than Four Hundred Lives Lost, and Two Million Dollars in Treasure. — Fury and Terror 
 of the Tempest.— The Staunch and Noble Ve.ssel Springs a Leak.— Successive Great and 
 Terrible Waves Break Over and Drag Her Under, in the Night.— The Tab of Peril, Suffer- 
 
38 CONTENTS. 
 
 ing, Despair, Parting, and Death. — Unparalleled Natura of this Disaster.— Hundreds of 
 Homes Desolated. — Gloom of the Public Mind. — The Financial Panic Aggravated. — Rise of 
 the Fatal Gale. — Hard Labor of the Steamer. — A Leak Caused by the Strain. — Incessant 
 Working at the Pumps. — Four Anxious Days. — Approach of the Brig Marine. — Women and 
 Children Rescued — Perils of the Life-Boat. — Terrible Height of the Sea. — Harrowing Ex- 
 periences. — The Two Little Babes. — Gradual Filling of the Ship. — Three Plunges, and She 
 Sinks. — Captain Herndon on the Wheel-House. — His Sad but Heroic End. — A Night on the 
 Waves. — Dead and Liviug Float Together. — Narratives of the Survivors 635 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 Teurible Crisis in the Business and Financial World. — 1857. 
 Known as "the Great Panic." — A Sudden, Universal Crash, in the Height of Prosperity. — 
 Caused by Wild Speculations and Enormous Debt. — Suspension of Banks all Over the Coun- 
 try. — Failure of the Oldest and Wealthiest Houses. — Fortunes Swept Away in a Day. — Pros- 
 tration of Every Branch of Industry. — Prolonged Embarrassment, Distrust, and Suffering. — 
 The Panic of 1837 in 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 " Go to the Wall." — 
 Savings Bank Excitement.— Rare Doings at the Counters. — Wit, Mirth, Despair, and Ruin. 
 — Forty Thousand Persons in Wall Street. — Factories, Foundries, etc., Stopped. — Business 
 Credit Destroyed.— Root of the Whole Difficulty 044 
 
 LXXVL 
 
 The " Great Awakening " in the Religious World, and the Popular 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, fiom 
 all Classes, to the Churches of J>ery Name and Denomination. — The "American Pentecost." 
 — Early American Revivals. — Dr. Franklin and Mr. Whitefield. — The Revival of 1857 Spon- 
 taneous. — 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 Infiuence. — Fulton Street Prayer- 
 Meeting. — Scenes in Burton's Theater. — New Themes and Actors. — Countless Requests for 
 Players. — A Wonderful Book. — Striking Moral Results. — Men of Violence Reformed. — 
 Crime and Suicide Prevented. — Infidels, Gamblers, Pugilists. — Jessie Fremont's Gold Ring. 
 — "Awful " Gardner's Case v,. • . 653 
 
 LXXVIT. 
 
 Unrivaled Performances bV Paul Morpiiy, the American Chess Champion. — 1858. 
 
 His Extreme Youth, Marvelous Gifts and Genius, and Astonishing Trumphs. — The Most 
 Renowned Players in America and Europe Vanquished by Him. — His Wonderful Victories 
 in Blindfold Games with the Veteran Masters of Chess. — Morphy's Bust Crowned with 
 Laurel in Paris. — Honors and Testimonials at Home. — Morphy's Personal History. — Early 
 Aptness for Chess. — Skill When Twelve Years Old. — Introduction to the Public. — At the 
 National Chess Congress. — Great Champions There. — Morphy Takes the First Prize. — Wins 
 Eighty-One out of Eighty-Four Games. — Professional Visit Abroad. — Challenges the Ches.s 
 Celebrities. — His Hoyish Appearance. — M<)d(!sty and Great Memory. — Aspect When at Play. 
 — His Biilliant Combinations. — Feats PiMfoimed in Paris. — Long and Profound Games. — 
 Great Match Against Eight. — Unparalleled Spectacle. — Victor Over Every Rival. — Without 
 o l^eer in the World.— Banquets to Hiin in Europe. — America Proud of Her Son. . . 666 
 
CONTENTS. 39 
 
 LXXVITT. 
 
 Burning of the Steamship Austria, on IIkr Way from Hamburg to New 
 
 York.— 1858. 
 
 She Takes Fire on the Eleventh Day, from Combustion of the Hot Tar Used in Fumigation. — 
 Three Decks Instantly in a Blaze. — Inability to Stop the Engines. — The Ship Continues on Her 
 Course in Furious Flames. — Torture and Death in Every Form. — Nearly Five Hundred Men, 
 Women, and Cliildren Lost. — A Hot Chain in the Bucket of Tar. — Sudden and Singular Ig- 
 nition. — Rapid Headway of the Flames. — They Leap up the Shrouds. — Powerlessness of the 
 Officers. — The Captain Panic-Stricken. — Frantic Conduct of Passengers. — Swamping of the 
 Boats. — Children Trodden Under Foot. — Writhing in the Heat. — Shrieks and Cries. — Being 
 Roasted Alive. — Only One Boat Afloat. — Jumping into the Waves. — Last Embrace of Lovers. 
 — Adieus of Hu.sbands and Wives. — Seven Brothers and Sisters. — Struggles of tlie Firemen. 
 — A Living Wall of Fire. — Fate of the Women. — Father and Son. — " A Sail ! " — Rescue of a 
 Few 673 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Bloody and Revolting Prize-Fight between John Morrissey and John C. 
 
 Heenan.— 1858, 
 
 Stakes, Two Thousand Five Hundred Dollars a Side. — Wonderful Muscular Appearance of the 
 Combatants. — Eleven Terrific Rounds in Twenty-Two Minutes. — Morrissey Declared Victor, 
 and Hailed. as the "Champion of America." — Gala Day for Ruffians and Blacklegs. — A Dis- 
 grace to Civilization. — Growth of American Pugilism. — Result of Emigration. — Branded as 
 Felony in the United States.— Remarkable Career of Morrissey — Convictions for Various 
 Crimes. — Serves in the Penitentiary. — Fights with Yankee Sullivan. — MoiTissey Wins. — 
 His Great Match with Heenan. — Public Attention Engrossed by It. — Spot Chosen for the 
 " Sport." — Laws and Magistrates Shunned. — The Contestants Shake Hands. — Their Tre- 
 mendous Prowess. — Blood, Brutality, and JNIutilation. — Heenan Staggers in the Eleventh 
 Round. — Fails at the Call of " Time." — The S[X)nge of Defeat Thrown Up. — Morrissey at the 
 ** Post of Honor." — He Sets up a Drinking Saloon. — Enters Political Life. — Elected to Con- 
 gress. — Truth Stranger Than Fiction 681 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 Homicide of Hon. P. B. Key, by Hon. Daniel E. Sickles, Member of Congress, in 
 
 Washington, D. C— 1859. 
 
 Seduction of Mrs. Sickles by Mr. Key. — Their Flagrant Criminal Intimacy. — Y''outh, Beauty, 
 and Distinguished Social Position of Mrs. Sickles. — Full Confession of the Manner, Times, 
 and Place of Her Guilt. — Mr. Sickles Tried for Murder and Triumphantly Acquitted. — Mrs. 
 Sickles's Fashionable Career. — Admiration of Her Charms. — Key's Amours in Female Soci- 
 ety. — His Marked Attentions to Mrs. Sickles. — An Anonymous Letfeer to Mr. Sickles. — His 
 Wife's Infidelity Disclosed. — Plans to Discover the Truth. — Sad Revelations Made. — Regular 
 Assignations for Months. — House Rented for this Purpose. — A Husband's Agony. — Detects 
 Key Signaling to Mrs. Sickles — Rush'^s from the House in a Frenzy. — Encounters Key on 
 the Street. — Angry Salutations ; A Grapple. — Key Shot Dead : Last Words. — The Seducer 
 in His Coffin. — House of Infamy Described. — Sickles Indicted and in Court. — Public Rejoic- 
 ings at the Verdict. — Mrs. Sickles's Brief Future. — Fair, Ruined, Forgiven, Dead. . . 689 
 
 LXXXL 
 
 Petroleum Excitement in Pennsylvania. — 1859. 
 Discoveries of Prodigious Quantities of Illuminating Oil in the Depths of the Earth. — Boring 
 of Innumerable Wells. — Fabulous Prices Paid For Lands. — Poor Farmers Become Million- 
 aires. — The Supply of Oil Exceeds the Wants of the Whole Country. — Immense Exporta- 
 tions of the Article.— Vast Source of National Wealth and Industry.— Revolution in Artifi- 
 cial Light.— Ancient Knowledge of this Oil.— Floating on Ponds and Creeks.— Its Collection 
 and Use. — Native Sources: Origin. — Locality of the Springs. — Great Value of the Oil.-^ 
 First Attempt at Boring.— Plans For Sinking Wells.— Their Exhaustless Y^ield.— Intense 
 
40 CONTENTS. 
 
 Excitement Prevails. — Eager Crowds at the Oil Region. — Buying and Leasing Lands. — En- 
 terprise of the Pioneers. — Sudden Fortunes Made. — Other Side of the Picture. — Towns and 
 Cities Built. — Fire : Awful Scenes and Losses.- Bringing the Oil into Market. — Its Cheap- 
 ness and Excellence. — Universal Introduction. — Valuable for Various Purposes. . . . 698 
 
 LXXXIL 
 Fatal Duel betwef:n Hon. D. C. Broderick, and Hon. D. S. Terry. — 18.59. 
 Scene of the Meeting near San Francisco. — Details of the Barbarous Encounter. — Broderick 
 Falls Mortally Wounded, by His Adversary. — He Expires in Two Days. — Flight of Terry. — 
 Society Shocked at the Event. — Parallel Case of Messrs. Graves and Cilley. — Politics and 
 Dueling in America. — Broderick's Alleged Offense. — Terry's Challenge Accepted. — Terms of 
 the Duel. — Choice of Seconds and Arms. — Aspect of the Two Men. — Serious Bearing of 
 Broderick. — Tei'ry's Fearlessness. — Marking the Distance. — Its Murderous Shortness. — The 
 Duelists Placed. — Their Persons Examined. — " Gentlemen, are you Ready ? " — The 
 Word Given. — Both Parties Fire. — Bi-oderick Shot in the Breast. — Last Sufferings and End. 
 — Sorrow of the Comnnmity. — His Body Lies in State. — A Similar Deed of Horror. — Con- 
 gressional Tragedy in 1838. — Its Deadly Character 707 
 
 LXXXIIL 
 
 John Brown's Capture of Harper's Ferry, Va. — 1859. 
 Seizure and Occupation of the United States Armory. — A Bold Scheme to Free the Slaves. — 
 Attacked by the Militia, He Retreats to the Engine House and Makes it His Fortress. — 
 The Building is Surrounded by Federal Troops and Forced by a Battering Ram. — Brown, 
 Refusing to Surrender, is Overpowered and Made Prisoner. — His Genuine Heroism on the 
 Scaffold. — A Long Cherished Plan. — Conference Held in Canada. — Programme of Opera- 
 tions. — Harper's Ferry the Strategic Point. — First Active Movement at Night. — Only 
 Twenty-two Men in Force. — The Town in Brown's Possession. — Strange Scenes at Day- 
 break. — Indescribable Consternation. — Fighting and Bloodshed. — News of the Attack Sent 
 Off. — Military Companies Pour in. — Marines Sent from Washington. — No Mercy Shown the 
 Insurgents. — Brown is Terribly Wounded. — His Indomitable Fortitude. — Tried for Treason 
 and Murder. — Conviction: Speech in Court. — Admiration of Him by His Foes. — Walks 
 Fearless to the Gallows. — Mounts the Fatal Platform. — " I am Ready at any Time ! " . 715 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 Fall of the Great Pemberton Mills in Lawrence, Mass. — 1860. 
 
 Nearly One Thousand Persons Buried in the Ruins. — Multitudes, ]\Iale and Female, in Youth 
 and Beauty, Brought in a Moment to Agony and Death. — Bursting I orth of a Sweeping 
 Conflagration. — Commingling of Horrible Sights and Sounds. — Hair-Breadth Escapes. — 
 Three Fair and Beautiful Corpses Tight Together. — The C'alamity Instantaneous. — Sensa- 
 tions of the Occupants. — Two Acres of Ruins. — Flames Suddenly Belch Forth. — Thrilling 
 Cries : Woeful Scenes. — Efforts to Rescue tho Wounded. — Many Left to Their Fate. — Thou- 
 sands of Excited Visitors. — Sympathy and Relief. — A Room Stored with the Dead. — W^on- 
 derful Escape of a Young Woman. — Astonisliing Presence of IMind.— l-'emale IleroiMn and 
 Devotion. — Tender Girls Struggling in the Ruins.^Despair and Suicide. — Ladies Work the 
 Fire Engines. — Harrowing and Piteous Appeals. — Cool Pluck of an Irishman.— Reading the 
 List of Victims. — Touching Request of a Dying Girl. — Endurance and Resignation. — Ac- 
 count of the Avondale Colliery Disaster 723 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Grand Embassy From the Empire of Japan, with a Treaty of Peace and Com- 
 merce, TO THE United States Government. — 1860. 
 
 First Ambassadors Ever Sent from that Ancient Country to a Foreign Land, — Their Official 
 Reception by President lUichanan, and Tour of Observation to the Chief Cities. — Public In- 
 terest Excited by this Extraordinary INI ission.— Their (Jriental Costume, Manners, Ceremo- 
 nies, Etc. — Japanese Distinction Shown to Americans. — Character of the Embassy. — Headed 
 
CONTENTS. 41 
 
 by Eminent Princes. — Numerous and Brilliant Suite. — Arrival at Washington, — Procession 
 to the Hotel.— Most Curious Spectacle. — How tlie Treaty was Carried. — Ceremonies at the 
 White House. — Salutations and Speeches. — Impressive International Scene. — Japanese 
 Diplomacy. — Deliverin-r the Tycoon's Letter.— Personal Appearance of the Ambassadors. — 
 President Buchanan's Opinion. — Humors and Drolleries. — " Tonnny," 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 732 
 
 LXXXVL 
 
 Arrival and Exhibition, in New York, of the Iron Steamship Great Eastern.— 1860. 
 
 The Largest and Most Extraordinary Vessel Ever Constructed.— Burden, 20,000 Tons ; Length, 
 Six Hundred and Eiglity Feet —Tens of Thousands of Visitors from all Parts of the Union. 
 —Admiration of Her Majestic Proportions, Ease of Movement, and Her Splendid and Power> 
 ful Machinery.— Matcliless Triumph of Human Genius and Skill. — " Wonders of the 
 W^orld," So Called. — Modern Achievements Pre-eminent.— Marvels of Steam Application.— 
 First Crossing of the Atlantic— Voyage of the Savannah in 1818.— Curiosity and Wonder 
 Excited. — A^isited by Crowned Ileads.—Most Peculiar Reminiscences —Building the Great 
 AVestern.— First Regular Ocean Steamer.— Her Complete Success.- Growth of Ocean Steam 
 Transit.— Conception of the Great Eastern.— Her Nautical Peculiarities.— Architectural 
 Perfection. — Superb Appointments Throughout. — Working Power, Eight Thousand Horses. — 
 Ship's Weight, 12,000 Tons.— Rated for Four Thousand Passengers.— Appearance in New 
 Y'ork Harbor. — Salutes, Escorts, Etc.— Greeted by Dense Throngs 740 
 
 LXXXVIL 
 
 General Walker's Fillibustering Expeditions to Sonora, Nicaragua, and Hon- 
 duras. — 1860. 
 
 Character, Method, and Object of His Schemes. — His Movements Marked by Bloodshed and 
 Bold Usurpation of Authority. — Retreat, Capture, and Court- IMartial at Truxillo. — Cool Res- 
 ignation to His Death-Sentence. — Solemn March to the Place of Execution. — Is Shot, and 
 Instantly Expires. — Walker's " Star of Destiny." — Short-Sighted Calculations. — Daring 
 Qualities of the Man. — Bitter Luck in Sonora. — Starvation : Inglorious Flight. — Nicaragua 
 the Land of Promise. — Contempt of Neutrality Laws. — United States Officials Outwitted. — 
 Champagne vs. Handcuffs. — Battles at Rivas and Virgin Bay. — Splendid Successes of 
 Walker. — Styles Himself " The Regenerator." — Treaty between Generals Walker and Cor- 
 ral. — Corral Charged with Treason, and Shot. — Combination Against Walker. — His Escape 
 to the United States. — New but Abortive Attempts on Nicaragua.— Turns Up Next at 'i'rux- 
 illo. — Is Defeated by the Honduras Troops. — His Doom Announced to Him. — Djing Declara- 
 tions. — A Volley ; Three Cheers ; the End 748 
 
 LXXXVIIL 
 
 Tour of His Royal Highness, Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, Through the 
 
 United States. — 1860. 
 
 Friendly Letters between President Buchanan and Queen Victoria on the Subject. — The 
 Prince's First Entrance Into American Waters. — Unbounded Hospitalities Extended Him. 
 — Hunting Excursions, Military Reviews, Balls, Illuminations, Etc.— Splendid Banquet at 
 the White House. — England's Apjireciation of these Honors to Her Future King.— Heir to 
 the British Throne. — Arrival at Detroit, Chicago, Etc. — Enthusiastic Crowds Greet Him. — 
 His Way Completely Blocked Up. — On a Hunt : Fine Sportsman. — Receptions at Various 
 Cities.— Locomotive Ride to Washington. — Guest of President Buchanan. — Courtesies and 
 Ceremonials.— Visit to Mount Vernon.— At the Tomb of Washington.— Unparalleled His- 
 torical Scene. — He Plants a Tree at the Grave. — Rare Scenes in I'hiladelphia. — New York 
 and Boston Festivities. — Present from Trinity Church, New Y^ork.— Greatest Balls Ever 
 Known. — He Meets a Bunker Hill Veteran. — Impressions of America. — Incidents, Anecdotes, 
 Interviews.— His Looks, Manners, Dress, Etc. — Brilliant Farewell at Portland. . . . 7.56 
 
42 CONTENTS. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 Bombardment and Reduction of Fort Sumter. — 1861. 
 
 Inauguration of Civil War in 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 Volunteers. — Spontaneous Uprising of the Loyal People. 
 — Calling the Battle-Roll of the ReiDublic. — Supreme Ci'isis in the Fate of the Nation. — 
 Northern and Southern Variances. — Slavery the Cause of Contention. — Culmination of the 
 Antagonism. — Disunion Banner of the South. — Secession of Several States. — War Wager 
 Boldly Staked. — Vain Efforts at Reconciliation. — Federal Property Seized at the South. — 
 Batteries Erected at Charleston. — Fort Sumter Closely Besieged. — Beauregard Demands 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 the Attack, April Fourteenth. — Incessant and Tremendous Fire. — Terms of Evacuation 
 Accepted. — Southern Rejoicings. — The Great Military Outlook. — Washington the National 
 Key 764: 
 
 XC. 
 
 Astonishing Feats of Horse-Taming Performed by Mr. John S. Rarey. — 1861. 
 
 The Most Savage and Furious Animals Made Tractable as Lambs. — The Ferocious and Far- 
 Famed " Cruiser " Lies Docile at His Master's Feet. — Acclamations of Wonder and Admira- 
 tion by Crowded Audiences. — Brilliant Honors from Monarchs and Courts Abroad. — Philos- 
 ophy of Mr. Rarey's Method and Success. — Mr. Rarey Personally. — Boyhood Fondness for 
 Horses. — Aptness in Training Them. — Discovers an Improved Method. — Its Perfect Success. 
 — Wild Prairie Horses Subdued. — Determines to Exhibit Abroad. — His Skill Challenged in 
 London. — " Cruiser " to be the Great Test, — Rage and Fury of the Animal. — Plunging, 
 Rearing, Yelling, Biting. — Rarey's Complete Triumph. — ]Monarchs and Princes Present. — 
 Their Surprise and Delight.— Victoria's Rapturous Applause. — Exhibitions in the United 
 States. — Terrible Cases Dealt With. — Rarey Always Conqueror. — His Calm, Fine, Firm 
 Voice. — Cool, Quiet, Quick Movements. — Magnetism of His Presence. — Details of the Sys- 
 tem 772 
 
 XCL 
 
 Battle at Bull Run, Va., between the Federal and Confederate Armies. — 1861. 
 
 First Important Engagement in the Great Civil War.— Severe Fighting for Many Hours. — 
 Most Disastrous Defeat of the Federal Troops. — Their Uncontrollable Panic and Headlong 
 Flight. — The South Jubilant. — Gloom and Humiliation of the Loyal States. — Three Months 
 Since Sumter Fell. — Armies Massed at Washington and Richmond. — Threats Against the 
 Federal Capital. — Irritation and Impatience of the North. — " On to Richmond ! " the Union 
 War-Cry. — March of McDowell's Army. — Plan of the Movement. — Rousing the Southern 
 Forces. — Their Unexpected Strength. — Uncertain Fate of the Day. — Re-enforcements for the 
 Confederates. — Davis's Arrival on the Ground. — He Exclaims, "Onward, My Brave Com- 
 rades!" — Their Wild Enthusiasm. — A Lost Battle for the Union. — Complete Demoralization. 
 — Three Miles of Scattered Troops. — Arms, Stores, etc., Flung Away. — Distressing Sights 
 and Sounds.— Thanksgiving Appointed by Davis. — Te Deums Sung in the Southern Churches. 
 — Lessons Taught by this Battle 780 
 
 XCIL 
 Extraordinary Combat between the Iron-Clads Merrimac and Monitor, in 
 
 Hampton Roads. — 18G2. 
 
 Sudden Appearance of the Merrimac Among the Federal Frigates. — Their Swift and Terrible 
 Destruction by Her Steel Prow. — Unexpected Arrival of the " Little 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 INIer- 
 rimac Changed Hands.— Burned and Sunk at Norfolk, Va. — Her Hull Raised by the Confed- 
 erates. — She is Iron Roofed and Plated.— Proof Against Shot and Shell. — A Powerful Steel 
 
CONTENTS. 43 
 
 Beak in Her Prow. — Most Formid.ablo Vessel Afloat. — Tn 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. — Lieu- 
 tenant 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 789 
 
 xcin. 
 
 Battlk of Antiktam, Maryland. — 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 Bravery 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. 
 — McClellau'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 Fear- 
 ful Crisis with General Burnside. — He Asks for Re-enforcements. — McClellan's Memorable 
 Reply. — Driving the Enemy tn masse. — Forty of Their Colors Taken. — The After-Scene of 
 Horror 798 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 Proclamation of Emaxcipation, as a War Measure, by President Lincoln. — 180.3. 
 
 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 Amendments. — Mr. Lincoln's 
 Views on Slavery. — Opposed to all Unconstitutional Acts. — His Orders to Union Generals. — 
 Prohibits the Arming of Negroes. — Alarming Progress of 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. — Opin- 
 ions and Discussions. — Singular Reason for Delay. — Mr. Lincoln's Vow to God. — Waiting 
 for a Union Triumph. — Decided by the Battle of Antietam. — Final Adoption of the Measure. 
 — Mr. Carpenter's Admirable Narrative. — Public Reception of the ProclaTuation. — Promulga- 
 tion at the South. — Scenes of Joy Among the Freedmen. — Enfranchisement Added to Fiee- 
 dom 807 
 
 XCV. 
 
 Campaign against Vicksburg, "The Gibraltar of the Mississippi," by the Union 
 
 Forces.— 1863. 
 
 The Genius, Valor, and Resources of Both Armies Tasked to Their Utmost. — Final Capitula- 
 tion 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. — Geo- 
 graphical Importance of Vicksburg.— Its Commanding Fortifications. — Farragut's Naval 
 Siege Powerless. — Sherman's Attack Repulsed. — Grant Assumes Active Command. — Vigoi- 
 ous Operations Undertaken.— His Series of Victorious Battles. — Futile Attempt to Storm 
 Vicksburg. — Hours of Terrific Cannonading. — A Systematic Siege Begun. — Thorough In- 
 vestment 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 : " Unconditional Surrender."— The Victors Entnr 
 the City, July Fourth. — Curious Reminiscences. 817 
 
44 CONTENTS. 
 
 XCVL 
 
 Three Days' Battle between the Concentrated Armies of Generals Meade and 
 
 Lee, at Gettysburg, Pa. — 18G3. 
 
 Overwhelming Invasion of Pennsylvania by the Confederate Forces. — The Union Army Drives 
 Them with Great Slaugliter Across the Potomac. — Unsuccessful Attempt to Transfer the 
 Seat of War from Virginia to Northern Soil. — One of the Most Decisive and Important 
 Federal Victories m 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 INIeade's Army. — Face to Face With the Foe. — Engagement 
 between the Vanguards. — Terrific Artillery Contests. — Movements and Counter Movements. — 
 Severe Reverses on Both Sides. — Carnage at Cemetery Hill. — Longstreet's Furious Onset. — 
 Most Destructive Cannonade. — Gettysburg a Vast Hospital. — Crawford's Grand Charge. — 
 Standing 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 8'2G 
 
 XCVIL 
 
 Oratorical Championship of America's Cause in England, b^ Rev. H. W. 
 
 Beecher. — 1803. 
 
 His Olympian Speeches, in Defiance of British Sentiment, in the Great Citios of the Kingdom. 
 — His Eloquence Rises to the Very Crown of the Occasion. — Superb Exhibition of Forensic 
 Power in Liverpool. — He Wrestles, Single-Handed and Triumphantly, for Three Hours, with 
 a Vast and Tumultuous Mob in that City. — Reception at Exeter Hall, London. — INIr. Beech- 
 er's Tour Undertaken for His Health. — Reaches England, Homeward Bound. — Civil Conflict 
 Raging in America. — Mr. Beecher Urged to Speak on United States Affairs. — Opening 
 Speech in Mancliester. — Great Audience of Seven Thousand. — Attempts to Silence Him. — 
 Powerlessness of the Opposition. — Splend d Qualities a3 an Orator. — Discussions in Glasgow 
 and Edinburgh. — Battle Waged by INIr. Beecher in Liverpool. — Violent Efforts to Gag Him. 
 — A Maddened Sea of Insult. — Taunts, Curses, Hissses, Fiuy. — Stampings, Hootings. Yell- 
 ings. — Beecher's Pluck, and Good Humor. — He Triumphs Over the "Wild Tempest. — A Spec- 
 tacle Never Before Wituessed. — Grand Closing Scene in the British Capital. — Vast and 
 Excited Assembly. — He Carries the House by Storm. — Plaudits and Congratulations. . 836 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 Erection and Inauguration of the Great Organ in the Boston Music Hall. — 18G3. 
 
 Most Majestic and Perfect Instrument of the Kind in America. — Almost without an Equal 
 in the Whole World.— Height, Sixty Feet; AVidth, Forty-eight Feet; Depth, Twenty-four 
 Feet; Weight, Seventy Tons; Cost, $30,000. — Its Vast and Enchanting Harmonies and 
 Wondrous Frame of Architectural Beauty. — The ^Masterpiece of Musical Art.— Origin of the 
 Enterpiise. — Dr. Upham's Grand Conception. — Full Powers Conferred Upon Hini.^IIis 
 Se.ven Years' Labor and Care. — America and Europe Explored. — A Colossal Instrument 
 Decided On. — Object and Influence of Such. — Contract for Its Construction in Geiniany. — 
 Unrivaled Mechanism of the AVork. — Completed, and Shipjied for Boston. — Three Months' 
 Tempestuous Voyage. — En.slirinement of the Organ in a Cas(>.— Its Towers, Domes, and 
 Sculptures.— Wind Pipits, Tiiirty-two Feet Long. — Eighty-nine Full Registers. — Total Nuni- 
 bi'r of Pipes, Five Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy-four.— C"a]iacity of the Organ, Six 
 Thousand Voices. — Ease witli which It is Performed. — Marvelous Lights and Shades of Tone. 
 — First Exposition to the Public— Enthusiasm and Joy on the Occasion. — Music, Poetry, 
 Art, Beauty 814 
 
 XCIX. 
 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 Gieat Maritime Pow- 
 ers of Europe. — Semmes Tlirows His Sword Away, Jumps Overboard, and Escapes. — Rela- 
 
CONTENTS. 45 
 
 tive Equality, in Size and Armament, of the Two Vessels. — The Previous Destructive 
 Career of the Alabama Against Northern Commerce. — Causeless Raid on Marine Property. 
 — Fault in the Law of Nations. — British Origin of the Alabama. — Her Unmistakable Char- 
 acter. — Peculiar Model and Equipment. — Adapted to Destroy, Fight, or Run. — Adroit Ship- 
 ment of Stores and Guns. — Ready for a Start. — All Hands IVfustercd Aft. — Semmes Reads 
 Aloud His Commission. — Cheers for Davis, Semmes, Etc. — Salute Fired: Hoisting the Flag. 
 — A Long Cruise : Tt;n'ible Ravages. — I'uts in, at Cherbourg, France. — The United vStates 
 Ship Kearsarge on His Track. — Semmes Boldly Offers to Fight. — Preliminary ]\Laneuvers of 
 the Ships. — Seven Circles Round Each Other.— Semmes's Rapid and Furious Fire. — Supe- 
 rior Gumiery of the Kearsarge. — Its Fatal Effect on the Alabama. — Incidents of this 
 Renowned Fight 851 
 
 C. 
 
 Admiral Farragut's Achievements at New Orleans in 1862, and at Mobile Bay in 
 1864 ; and Admiral Porter's Crowning Victory in 1865, at Fort Fisher. — 1864. 
 
 His Astonishing Feat of Rowing Past the Confederate Batteries. — Fierce and Sanguinary Con- 
 test between the Admiral's Flag-ship, the Hartford, and Admiral Buchanan's Monster Ram, 
 the Tennessee. — The Latter Proves Herself, for a Time, a Match for the Whole Union Fleet. 
 — Farragut's Overwhelming Victory. — Farragut Pressed to Join the South. — His Unswerv- 
 ing Fidelity to the Old Flag. — High Ti-ust Committed to Him. — Sailing of His Great Fleet. 
 — Bold and Successful Plan of Battle. — Admiral Porter's Splendid Services. — Ports 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 Cannonades. — 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 859 
 
 CL 
 
 Grand March of the Union Army, under General Sherman, Through the Heart 
 
 OF THE South. — 1864. 
 
 Generals and Armies Baffled, and States and Cities Conquei-ed, Without a Serious Disaster to 
 the Victors. — Display of Military Genius Unsurpassed in Any Age or Country. — The Southern 
 Confederacy Virtually Crushed Within the Coils of this Wide-Sweeping, Bold, and Resist- 
 less Movement. — The Great Closing Act in the Campaign. — Sherman's Qualities as a Com- 
 mander. — His Great Military Success. — 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 Cavalry. — Thomas Defends the Border States. — Success- 
 ful 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 Cap- 
 ital. — 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 868 
 
 CIL 
 
 Fall of Richmond, Va., the Confederate Capital. — 1865. 
 The Entrenched City 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 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. — W^ithout It, a Lost Republic. — Unequaled Valor 
 
46 CONTENTS. 
 
 Displayed. — Sherman's Grand Conceptions. — Sheridan's Splendid Generalship. — Onward 
 March of Events. — Strategy, Battles, Victories. — I^ee'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 Interview. — The Two Great 
 Generals Face to Face. — What Was Said and Done. — Aimouncing 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 877 
 
 cin. 
 
 ASSASSINATIOX OF PRESIDENT LiNCOLX, AT FoUD's TheATER, WaSHINGTOX, 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 
 Country.— Funeral Cortege Through Fifteen States.— Tragical Fate of the Conspirators.— 
 Object of this Most Infamous of Crimes.— Singular Time of Its Perpetration.— Virtual End 
 of the Great Civil War. — Dawn of Peace : Universal Joy. — President Lincoln's Happy Frame 
 of Mind.— How He Passed His Last Day. — Conversations on the Evening of April Four- 
 teenth.— Makes an Engagement for the Morrow.— Last Time He Signed His Name.— Re- 
 luctantly Goes to the Theater. — Arrives Late: Immense Audience. — Plans and Movements of 
 the Assassin.— The Fatal Shot : a Tragedy of Horrors.— Removal of the President to a Pri- 
 vate 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 Swift and Bloody End.— Trial of His Male and Female Accomplices. ... 887 
 
 CIV. 
 
 Successful Laying of the Telegraph Cable Across the Atlantic Ocean. — 1866. 
 
 The Old World and the New United by Instantaneous Communication. — Pronounced the 
 Grandest of Human Enterprises.— Ten Years of Difficulty 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. — Ocean Telegraphs Early 
 Predicted.— First Attempt in 1857. — Breaking of the Wire.— Fresh but Abortive Trials in 
 1858 and 186.5.— Great Preparations for 1866.— Exquisite Construction of the Cable.— A 
 Wealthy and Powerful Company. — Cyrus W. Field, Its Master-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 1 July Twenty-seventh.— 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 899 
 
 CV. 
 Completion of the Pacific Railroad. — 1869. 
 Spikes of the Richest (Jold 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 Gate.— Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific 
 Oceans. — Seven Days from New York to San Francisco. — Greatest Railroad Route on the 
 Face of the Earth.— "Manifest Destiny" 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.— National Difficulties to be Overcome. — Feats 
 of Engineering Involved.— Triumphs of Science in this Respect. — Mountains Tunneled, Riv- 
 ers Bridged.— Gulfs Spanned, Depths Fathomed.— Vastness and Progress of the Work.— A 
 
CONTENTS. 47 
 
 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 Two Grand Divisions. — 
 Union at Promontory Point, Utah. — Exultation Over the Victory. — Historic Scene in the 
 Heart of America. — Offerings of (Jold, Silver, Iron, and Laurel. — Telegram to President 
 Grant. — Celebrations in the Principal Cities. — Easy Journey Around the World. . . . 907 
 
 CVL 
 
 National Peace Jubilee and Musical Festival For Five Days, in Boston, in Honor 
 OF the Restoration of the Union of the States. — 1869. 
 
 Ten Thousand Singers, an Orchestra of One Thousand Instruments, and Tens of Thousands of 
 Spectators, in the Coliseum, an Immense Building Erected for the Occasion. — Attendance of 
 President Grant. — Sublime and Inspiring Harmonies. — Most Majestic Musical Demonstra- 
 tion of Modern Times. — Origin of the Jubilee. — P. S. Gilmore : His Zeal and Enthusiasm. — 
 All Discouragements Overcome. — Magnificent Programme. — Splendor of the Coliseum. — It 
 Covers Nearly Four Acres. — Inauguration Ceremonies. — View of the Audience. — Scene of 
 Surpassing Enchantment. — Beauty of the Decorations. — Overtures, Choruses, Anthems, Etc. 
 — Parepa-Rosa, Phillipps, Ole Bull. — Their Professional Triumphs. — Zerrahn, Tourjee, Eich- 
 berg. — The Famous " Anvil " Chorus. — Chiming the City Bells. — Novel Commingling of 
 Artillery with IMusic. — Tremendous Ovation to Grant. — Half a Million People in the City. — 
 Testimonial to Mr. Gilmore. — Last Day : Concert by 10,000 Children. — Triumphant Success 
 of the Jubilee 915 
 
 CVIL 
 
 Burning of the City of Chicago, III., the Commercial Metropolis of the North- 
 west.— 1871. 
 
 Most Destructive Conflagration in the History of Civilized Nations. — A Thirty Hours' Tornado 
 of Fire in all Directions. — Vast Billows of Inextinguishable Flame. — Upwards of Two Thou- 
 sand Acres, or Seventy-three Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed: Loss, 
 1200,000,000.— Ignoble Origin of the Fire.— Fatal Mistake of a Policeman.— Combustibles 
 all Around. — A Strong Gale Prevailing. — 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 JMidnight Scene. — Terror Indescribable. — 
 Flight for Life. — Burning of the Bridges. — Hopelessness, Desperation, Death. — Churches, 
 Hotels, Theaters, in Ashes. — Fate of the Newspapers, Banks, etc. — Explosion 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 924 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 Terrible Fire in the Business Heart of Boston.— 1872. 
 
 It Rages Fiercely, Night and Day, and Consumes the Widest and Most Magnificent Area of 
 Solid Granite Warehouses on the Continent. — Some Sixty-five Acres of these Massive and 
 Apparently Indestructible Commercial Palaces Crumble Like Chalk in the Intense Heat.— 
 The Great Financial and Commercial Center of New England Destroyed.— Surprising Char- 
 acter of this Fire.— Comparison with that of Chicago.— No Gale: Moderate Weather. — 
 Strange Rapidity of the Flames.— They Spread in all Directions.— Triumphant Sweep from 
 Block to Block.— Thoroughness of the Destruction.— Iron and Stone No Barriers.— Difficulties 
 of the Situation.— Great Height of the Stores.— Narrowness of the Streets.—Trinity Church 
 in Ruins.— Blowing up with Gunpowder.— Grand and Terrible Scenes.— Narrow Escape of 
 the " Old South."— State Street and its Treasures Reached.— Victory at Last by the Firemen. 
 —Peril, Bravery, Death.— A Whole City in Darkness.— Some Eight Hundred Buildings 
 Burned.— Trades that Specially Sufl:"ered.— Loss About $85, 000,000 931 
 
48 CONTENTS. 
 
 CIX. 
 
 The National Grange Movement. — 1872. 
 
 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 Uni- 
 versal Co-operation Proposed.— Results to be Realized by Such Combinations. — Patrons of 
 Husbandry and Sovereigns of Industry. — Initiative Proceedings in 18G7. — First Grange 
 Founded in Washington, D. C. — Agriculture the Grand Basis. — Mutual Protection and 
 Advancement. — Small Encouragement at the Beginning. — 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. — Opinions of Eminent Leaders 
 Cited. — Views of Foreign Publicists. — Vital Point in the New System. — Commercial and 
 Financial Theories. — Grain and Cotton Pi-oducts. — Alleged Errors in Trade Customs. — Indi- 
 vidual vs. Associated Efforts. — ' Middlemen ' a Disadvantage. — Substitute for Their Interven- 
 tion. — The Case Illustrated. — Difficulties and Remedies 938 
 
 ex. 
 
 Trial of Rev. H. W. Beecher, for Adultery with Mrs. Theodore Tilton, as Charged 
 
 BY Her Husband. — 1875. 
 
 The Name of the Accused, as Preacher, Author, and Reformer, Co-extensive with Christianity 
 and Civilization. — Story of the Plaintiff, of the Wife, and of the Defendant. — The 
 Longest and Most Bitter Contest in American Judicial Annals. — A Wide- Spread 
 Social Tragedy. — Suffocating Crowds Fill the Hall. — Array of Eminent Counsel. — 
 Mrs. Tilton and Mrs. Beecher Attend Daily. — Flowers and Applause. — Activity of the 
 Press and Telegraph. — Foundation of the Terrible Charges. — Damages Laid at $100,000. 
 — Mrs. Tilton's Confessions to Her Husband. — A Retraction Obtained from Her by Mr. 
 Beecher. — Mr. Moulton, for Mr. Tilton, Demands Its Return. — Explanations by Mr. Beecher, 
 — Denial of any Improprieties. — Mr. Tilton's Appearance on the Stand. — Nature of the 
 Defense. — Mr, Beecher in His Own Behalf. — Mrs. Tilton's Appeal to the Court. — One Hun- 
 dred and Eleven Witnesses Called. — Great Conflict of Testimony. — Opinion and Rulings 
 of the Judge. — The Jury Seven Days Out. — Their Final Disagreement 945 
 
 CXL 
 
 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 Obser- 
 vance. — A Grand Exposition of the Century's Growth and Progress, the Principal Feature 
 Decided Upon. — Vast Work of Preparation. — The 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 Village, Covered with Gay Streamers and Waving 
 Flags. — Pomp, Parade, and Universal Fraternization. — 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 
 Illustrations. — An Unprecedented Scene: President and Emperor Receiving the Salutations 
 of the American People. — Oratory, Music, Poetry, Bells, Illuminations, Cannon, Regattas, 
 Banners, Hallelujahs, and Huzzas. — The Beauty, Utility, and Magnificence of the Orient and 
 Occident, in Boundless Combinations.^ — Tin; " Glorious Fourth," All Over the Land. — Con- 
 gratulatory Letter from the Emperor of Germany 961 
 

 I. 
 
 MOMENTOUS POLITICAL EVENTS OF ABSORBING INTEREST. 
 
 1776. — Declaration of American Independence. 
 Birth of the Nation. 
 
 1785. — First Minister From the United States to England. 
 John Adams and Old King George Face to Face. 
 
 1786. — Shays's Rebellion in Massachusetts. 
 
 Armed Defiance of State and Federal Laws. 
 
 1787. — Formation and Adoption op the Federal Constitution. 
 The United States no longer an Unorganized Nation. 
 
 1789. — Election and Inauguration of a President of the United States. 
 Unanimous Choice of George Washington. 
 
 1794. — The Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania. 
 
 Resistance to the United States Excise Tax. 
 
 1799. — Founding of Washington City, The National Capital. 
 Establishment of the Government in that City. 
 
 1806. — Conspiracy and Trial of Aaron Burr. 
 His Scheme of Conquest and Empire. 
 
 1826. — Fiftieth Anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. 
 A Jubilee throughout the Land. 
 
 1826.— Death of Ex-Presidents John Adams and Thomas Jefferson, 
 On the Fourth of July, the Nation's Half- Centenary. 
 4 
 
50 TOPICAL OK CL.VvUKIl^J LLSI\ 
 
 1830. Tiil: '• G:m:at Dkisati: " ijetweex Sexatous Weusteu and Hayne. 
 
 Kiwic.b ii.6 '' titJ Buitlc of tho Giants: 
 
 18;52. XuLLiFi(ATT(>%' Ojti;::eak ix South Carolixa, undeh Calhoux, McDuf- 
 
 FIK, AX I) OtIIEUS. 
 
 Tke Wratli of Fi-esldent Jackson Aroused. 
 
 1836. — Struggle fok the Right of Petitiox ix Coxgress. 
 
 JoJm Quliic.ij AduDis's Eleven Days' Dramailo Conflict, Single- Handed. 
 
 1837. — Passage of the Famous Expungixg Resolutiox, ix-^ the Uxited States 
 Sex ATE. 
 3Iemorable Padianientary Scene at Midniglit 
 
 1842. — Reue'^liox ix Rhode Islax'^d, uxdeu Thomas W. Dorr. 
 Popidar Suffrage and Political Equality Demanded. 
 
 1844. — Axti-Rext or " Barx-Burxixg " Agitatiox in New York. 
 Terrible Violence by Persons Disguised as Indians. 
 
 1851. — Reigx of the Vigilaxce Committee ix' California. 
 Sudden Seizure and Punishment of Criminals. 
 
 1852. — Expedition to Japax', uxder Commodore Perry. 
 
 TJie Ports (f that Empire Unsealed to America. 
 
 1859. — JoHX Rrown at Harper's Ferp.y. 
 
 A Bold Scheme to Free the Slaves. 
 
 I860. — Grand Embassy FjRom the Empire of Japan. 
 First Ambassadors Ever Sent From, that Country. 
 
 1863. — Championship of America's Cause ix Exgland, by Henry Ward 
 Beecher. 
 Jfe Wrestles, Victoriously, ivith Vast and Tamultuous Mobs. 
 
 1863. — Proclamation of Emax'cipation. 
 
 Pronounced,by President Lincoln, ^'the Great Event of the Nineteenth Cen- 
 tury.''^ 
 
 1865. — Assassination of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. 
 Universal Wail of Anguish and Lainentation. 
 
 1870. EXFRANCHISEMEXT, BY CoXSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT, OP THE CoLORKD 
 
 Race. 
 
 Equality of All Men before the T,av\ 
 
 1872. — The Grange Movemext at the West. 
 
 Popular Organizations in the Interests of Labor. 
 
 1876. OXE HUXDREDTH BiRTHDAY OF THE AmERICAX REPUBLIC. 
 
 Universal Jubilee throughout the Land. 
 
TOPICAL UU CLASSIFIED LIST. 51 
 
 IT. 
 
 BATTLES, SIEGES, mSUREECTIOXS, AND OTHER MILITARY 
 
 OCCURRENCES. 
 
 1777. — Capitulation of General Bukgoyne to General Gates. 
 First Royal Army Ever Surrendered to Americans. 
 
 1780. — Treason of Benedict Arnold. 
 
 Plot to Deliver West Point to the British. 
 
 1781. — Surrender of Lord Cornwallis to General Washington. 
 Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America. 
 
 1783. — Adieu to the Army by General Washington. 
 
 Jiesif/ns his Great Commission and Returns his Sword to Congress. 
 
 1786. — First 0r(;anized Rebellion in the United States. 
 Led by Daniel Shays, of Massachusetts. 
 
 1791. — Greatest Battles with the Indians. 
 
 St. Claires Defeat : Wayyie's Victory. 
 
 1794. — Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania. 
 
 Subdued by General Henry Lee. 
 
 1803. — Chastisement of the Barbary Powers. 
 
 Humiliation of Morocco^ Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli. 
 
 180G. — Burr's Military Expedition to the South-West. 
 His Schemes of Conquest and Empire. 
 
 3813. — Harrison's Victory at the Battle of the Thames. 
 
 Death of Tecumseh. 
 
 1814. — Conquest and Burning of Washington, by the British. 
 
 Flight of President Madison. 
 
 1815. — Jackson's Terrible Rout of the British at New Orleans. 
 Sudden and Decisive Close of the War. 
 
 1842. — Rebellion in Rhode Island, under Thomas W. Dorr. 
 The Two Great Political Parties Arm and Take the Field. 
 
 1847. — General Taylor's Victorious Campaign in Mexico. 
 Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Buena Vista, Etc. 
 
 1847. — General Scott in the Halls of the Montezumas. 
 
 First Foreign Capital Eoer Occupied by a United States Army. 
 
52 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 
 
 1859. — JoHX Brown's Setzuke of Hahpek's Ferry. 
 His Cdptuve, Trial, cuul Execution. 
 
 1861. — Bombakdmext axd Reductigx of Fort Sumter. 
 
 Inauguration of the Great Civil War in the United States. 
 
 1861. — Disastrous Defeat of the Uniox Army, at Bull Run, Va. 
 First Important Engagement in the War of the Hebellion. 
 
 1862. — Battle of Axtietam, Md. 
 
 Bloodiest Dag Ever Known in America. 
 
 1863. — Surrexder of Vicksburg, " the Gibraltar of the Mississippi." 
 
 37,000 Frisoiicrs, 15 Generals, and Arms for 60,000 Men, the TrojJhies. 
 
 1863. — Three Days' Battle at Gettysburg, Pa. 
 
 A Decisive Union Victory, of Supreme Importance. 
 
 1864. — Shermax's jVIarch Through the Heart of the South. 
 Displag of Military Genius Unsiupassed in any Age. 
 
 1865. — Fall of Richmoxd, axd Surrexder of Gexeral Lee to General 
 Graxt. 
 
 Overthrow of the Four Years' Gigantic Rebellion. 
 
 1865. — Re-possession of Fort Sumter. 
 
 The Old Flag Raised Again on its Battlements, 
 
 III. 
 BRILLIANT NAVAL ENGAGEMENTS AND HEROIC EXPLOITS. 
 
 1779. — Capture of the Ship-of-War Ser.^pis, by John Paul Jones. 
 First American Naval Victory. 
 
 1804. — Bombardment of Tripoli. 
 
 The Proud Corsair Flag Strikes to the Stars and Strij'tes. 
 
 1812. — Fight between the Frigates Coxstitutiox and Guerrierk. 
 The British Colors Struck to " Old Ironsides.''^ 
 
 1812. — Wonderful Escape of the Frigate Constitution from a British 
 Fleet. 
 
 Splendid Naval Tactics of the Americans. 
 
 1813. — Perry's Victory on Lake Erie. 
 
 First Siiuadron Fight between England and America. 
 
TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 53 
 
 1814. — McDoxough's Victory ox Lake Champlaix. 
 
 Seventeen British Eiisigiis Disappear in Two Hours. 
 
 18G2. — Extraordinary Combat between the Merrimac and Monitor. 
 Total Revolution in Naval Warfare. 
 
 t8G4. — Engagement between the Kearsarge and Alabama. 
 
 Sinking of the Alabama after a Brilliant Contest of One Hour. 
 
 18G4. — Heroic Achievemexts of Admirals Farragut and Porter. 
 New Orleans and Mobile the Scenes of their Exploits. 
 
 1865. — Brilliant Capture of Fort Fisher, N. C, by Admiral Porter and 
 General Terry. 
 
 Pronounced, by Gen. Grant, one of the Great Successes that Ended the War. 
 
 IV. 
 
 SUPERB ACHIEVEMENTS OF ORATORY. 
 
 1830. — The Great Debate between Webster and Hayne, in the United 
 States Senate. 
 
 Known as " The Battle of The Giants." 
 
 1836. — Struggle for the Right op Petition in Congress. 
 
 John Quincy Adams's Dramatic Contest, Single- Handed, for Eleven Days. 
 
 1863. — Championship of America's Cause in England, by Henry Ward Beecher. 
 He Wrestles, Victoriously, with Vast and Tumultuous Hobs. 
 
 CELEBRATED CRIMINAL CASES AND TRIALS, TRAGEDIES, MUTI- 
 NIES, DUELS, CONSPIRACIES, Etc. 
 
 1780. — Treason of Benedict Arnold. 
 
 Darkest Deed of Infamy during the Revolutionary War. 
 
 1804.^rATAL Duel between Vice-PresideInt Burr and Alexander Hamilton. 
 Hamilton Falls, Mortally Wounded. 
 
 1806. — Aaron Burr's Trial for High TREAsoiif. 
 August Judicial Sceyie. 
 
 1826. — Duel between Henry Clay and John RANDOLfH. 
 Two Shots, and a Reconciliation. 
 
51 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 
 
 1831. — Capture axd Execution of Gibbs, the Noted Piuate. 
 
 Known as '•'■the Scourge of the Ocean^' and tlte Enennj of Mankind. 
 
 1835. — Attempt to Assassinate President Jackson in the United States 
 Capitol. 
 The Perpetrator, Richard Lawrence, Proves to he a Lunatic. 
 
 1836. — Trial of Richard P. Robinson, for the Murder of Miss Helen 
 Jewett, of New York. 
 Tli6 Victim a Notedly-Beautiful Courtesan. 
 
 1838. — Barbarous Duel between Hons. W. J. Graves and Jonathan Cil- 
 ley, Members op Concjress. 
 alley Slain at the Third Firing. 
 
 1841. — Cold-Blooded Murder of Samuel Adams by John C. Colt, in New 
 York. 
 
 One of the Most Celebrated of Modern Crimes. 
 
 1842. — Mutiny on Board the United States Brig-of-War Somers. 
 Hanging of Spencer and Other Ringleaders from the Yard-arm. 
 
 1844. — Trial and Degradation of Bishops B. T. and H. U. Onderdonk, for 
 Immorality. 
 
 No Parallel Case in the Christian Churcli, since the Reformation. 
 
 1849. — Astor Place Opera-House Riots, New York. 
 
 Feud between the Two Great Tragedians, Forrest and Macready. 
 
 1849. — Murder of Dr. George Parkman, a Boston Millionaire, by Prof. 
 J. W. Webster, of Harvard College. 
 
 Intense Interest in this Case, in both Hemispheres. 
 
 1851. — Reign of the Vigilance Committee in California. 
 Swift and Terrible Dealings with Criminals. 
 
 1856. — Assault on Hon. Charles Sumner, in the United States Senate 
 Chamber, by P. S. Brooks. 
 
 Twenty Hard and Rapid Blows on the Senatoi'^s Bare Head. 
 
 1857. — Shocking and Mysterious Murder of Dr. H. Burdell, of New York. 
 Trial of Mrs. Cunningham : a Drama of Horrors. 
 
 1858. — Revolting Prize Fight between John Morrissey and John C. Heenan. 
 Morrissey the Victor — His Triumphant Flection to Congress. 
 
 1859. — Homicide of Hon. P. B. Key by Hon. D. E. Sickles, M. C, in Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 Seduction of Mrs. Sickles by Mr. Key : Trial and Acquittal of Sickles. 
 
TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LUrr. 53 
 
 185;). — Fatal Duel betwekx Hox. D. C. Ukodekick, United States Se.natok 
 
 FROM CaLIKOUNIA, AND ChIEF JuSTICE TeKKY. 
 
 Broderlck Mortally Wounded ; His Speedy Death. 
 
 1860. — Walker's Fillibustekixg Expeditions. 
 His Retreat, Capture, and Execution. 
 
 1865. — Assassination of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. 
 The Most Exalted and Beloved of Mortal Rulers. 
 
 1865. — Trial of the Assassination Conspirators. 
 Their Swift and Awful Doom. 
 
 1875. — Trial of Rev. Henry Ward Beecher for Alleged Adultery. 
 
 Charyed by Theodore Tilton to have been Coynmitted with Mrs. Tilton. 
 
 VL 
 
 WONDERFUL PHENOMENA OF THE EARTH, OCEAN, AND HEAVENS. 
 
 1780. — Mysterious Dark Day in the Northern States. 
 The End of the World Supjposed to be at Hand^ 
 
 1806. — Greatest Total Solar Eclipse Ever KnoWn. 
 Five Minutes Total Obscuration at Noonday >. 
 
 1811. — Desolating Earthquake at the West. 
 
 All Over the Mississippi to the Atlantic Coast. 
 
 1815. — The Ever-Memorable September Gale. 
 
 Unparalleled Since the Settlement of the Country. 
 
 1833. — Sublime Meteoric Shower all Over the United States. 
 The Whole Firmament in Fiery Commotion for Several Hours. 
 
 1837. — Magnificent Aurora Borealis Covering the Whole Heavens. 
 
 Visible All Night to Millions of Observers. 
 
 1843. — Appearance of a Fiery Comet at Mid-Day. 
 
 It Sweeps through the Sky, in Plain Sight, for Several Weeks. 
 
 1851. — ^VisiT of the Marine Monster, Called the Sea-Serpent, along the 
 Atlantic Coast. 
 
 Accounts Given by Eye- Witnesses. 
 
 1868. — Disastrous Earthquakes in California. 
 
 Lives Lost and Property Destroyed, in '65 and '68. 
 
56 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 
 
 3869. — Total Eclipse of the Sun. 
 
 Most Interesting and Importayit Observations of the PJienomenon Ever Made, 
 
 VII. 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY DISCOVERIES AND INVENTIONS, SCIENTIFIC EX- 
 PEDITIONS, AND THE SPLENDID TRIUMPHS OF MECHANICAL 
 GENIUS. 
 
 1793. — Whitney's Great Cotton-Gin Invention. 
 
 Revolution in the Prospects and Power of the South. 
 
 1807. — Fulton's Application of Steam to Navigation. 
 First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters. 
 
 1835. — Morse's Invention of the Electric Telegraph. 
 The Scientiftc Miracle of the Age. 
 
 1838. — Exploring Expedition to the South Seas, under Commodore Wilkes. 
 Discovery of the Great Antarctic Continent. 
 
 1842. — Fremont's Exploration of the Far North-West. 
 
 Plants the American Flag on the Highest Peak of the Rocky 3Iountains. 
 
 1846. — Discovery of Painless Surgery by the Inhalation of Ether. 
 Most Beneficent Boon to Humanity Ever Conferred by Science. 
 
 1846. — Invention of that Wondrous Mechanism, the Sewing Machine. 
 Romantic Genius and Perseverance of the Inventor. 
 
 1847. — Expedition to the Jordan and Dead Sea, under Lieutenant Lynch. 
 
 The " Sea of Death " Explored, Sounded, and its Mysteries Solved. 
 
 1848. — Discovery of Gold at Sutter's Mill, California. 
 California Becomes the El Dorado of the World. 
 
 1850. — Grinnell Expeditions to the Arctic Seas. 
 Doctor Kane Discovers an Open Polar Sea. 
 
 1851. — Victory of the Yacht America, in the International Race at Cowes. 
 
 She Wins " The Cup of all Nations.^' 
 
 1852. — Expedition to Japan, under Commodore Perry. 
 Opening of that Empire to American Intercourse. 
 
 1853. — Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations, in New York. 
 Splendid Display of the Arts and Treasures of Civilization. 
 
TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 57 
 
 1859. — Petroleum Excitement in Pennsylvania. 
 
 Discovery of Vast Quantities of Illuininating Oil in the Deptlis of the 
 Earth. 
 
 ISOO. — Exhibition, in New York, of the Mammoth Steamship Great Eastern. 
 Largest Vessel Ever Built. 
 
 1863. — Inauguration of the Great Organ in Boston. 
 Most Majestic and Perfect Instrument in America. 
 
 1866. — Successful Laying of the Atlantic Telegraph Cable. 
 The Grandest of Human Enterprises. 
 
 1869. — Completion and Opening of the Pacific Eailroad. 
 Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 eemarkable PvEforms, delusions, and excitements, in the 
 
 MORAL AND RELIGIOUS WORLD, Etc. 
 
 1830. — Pounding of the Mormon Church by Joseph Smith. 
 Origin, Character, and Progress. 
 
 1840. — " Washingtonian " or Temperance Eeformation. 
 Career of Hawkins, Mitchell, Gough, and Others. 
 
 1843. — Expected Destruction of the World. 
 
 Rev. William Millei^'s Second Advent Predictions. 
 
 1844. — Degradation of Bishops B, T. and H. U. Onderdonk from the Epis- 
 copacy, FOR Immoralities. 
 No Parallel Case in the Christian Church, since the Reformation. 
 
 1847. — The Phenomena of " Spiritual Manifestations." 
 
 Singular and Humble Origin, and World-wide Development. 
 
 1847. — Voyage of the United States Ship-of-War Jamestown, with Food 
 FOR Ireland. 
 First War Vessel Ever Sent on Such a Mission of Mercy. 
 
 1849. — ^Visit OF Father Mathew, the Apostle of Temperance. 
 His 600,000 American Converts to Total Abstinence. 
 
 1857. — The " Great Awakening " in the Religious World. 
 Known as the American Pentecost. 
 
68 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 
 
 18G3. — Pkoclamatiox of Emancipatiox to the Slaves. 
 Millions of Slaves Declared to be Forecer Free. 
 
 1875. — Trial of Rev. Hexuy Wakd Beechek for Alleged Adultery. 
 
 Charged by Theodore Tilton to have been Committed with Mrs. Tilton. 
 
 1875-6. — The Popular Revival Movement under Messrs. Moody axd Sanke: 
 Great Success of these Earnest and Devoted Evangelists. 
 
 IX. 
 
 POPULAR OVATIONS, NATI0:N^AL JUBILEES, PAGEANTS, FEATS, Etc. 
 
 1824. — Farewell Visit of Lafayette to America. 
 The Invited Guest of a Grateful ReiJuhlic. 
 
 1826. — Celebration of the Fiftieth Anniversary of American Independence. 
 
 Sudden Death of Ex-Presidents Adams and Jefferson, on the Day of the 
 Jubilee. 
 
 1849. — Tour of Father Mathew, the Apostle of Temperance. 
 A Joyous Welcome Extended Him, Throughout the Land. 
 
 1850. — Brilliant Musical Tour of Jenny Lind. 
 
 A Whole Continent Enchanted with Her Melodies. 
 
 1851. — Reception of Gov. Kossuth, of Hungary. 
 Enthusiastic and Multiplied Ovations. 
 
 1858. — Morphy's Marvelous Chess Triumphs. 
 
 Vanquishes the Most Renowned Players in Europe and America. 
 
 1860. — Grand Embassy from the Empire of Japan. 
 
 Curious and Extraordinary Tour to the Great Cities. 
 
 1860. — Arrival and Tour of the Prince of Wales, England's Future King. 
 Received with Magnificent Honors and Hospitalities, as the Nation^s Guest. 
 
 1861. — Rarey's Astonishing Feats of Horse-Taming. 
 
 Wonder and Admiration from Croivded Audiences. 
 
 1863. — Inauguration of the Colossal Organ in Boston. 
 The Masterpiece of Modern Musical Art. 
 
 1869. — National Peace Jubilee and Musical Festival. 
 
 Ten Thousand Singers, and an Orchestra of One Thousand Players. 
 
 1871. — Journey over the Land, of the Duke Alexis, of Russia. 
 Son of the Emperor Alexander. 
 
TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. L'J 
 
 1874. — Visit of King Kalakaua, of the Saxdwicii I.slaxus. 
 
 First instance of a Relgalng Crowned Head enterimj the United States. 
 
 1876. — OxE Hundredth Birthday of the American Republic. 
 Universal Jubilee TJirowjhout the Land. 
 
 X. 
 
 APPALLING PUBLIC CALAMITIES, DISASTERS, PANICS, Etc. 
 
 1799. — Death of George Wa.shington, the Father of his Country, and 
 America'.s Most Illustrious Citizen. 
 
 The Whole World Does Honor, by Eulor/y and Lamentations, to His Exalted 
 Worth and Immortal Fame. 
 
 1811. — Desolating Earthquake at the West. 
 All Along the Valley of the Mississippi. 
 
 1815. — The Ever-Memorable September Gale. 
 
 Unparalleled Since the Settlement of the Country. 
 
 1835. — Tremendous Fire in New York, in the Richest Locality in America. 
 700 Richly Filled Warehouses laid in Ashes, in the Dead of Winter. 
 
 1844. — Explosion on Board the United States Steamer Princeton. 
 The Secretaries of State and the Naoy Listantly Killed. 
 
 1849. — Astor-Place Opera-House Riots, New York. 
 A Mob of 20,000 Men : Lamentable Loss of Life. 
 
 1849. — Awful Visitations of the "Angel of Death." 
 
 Yellow Fever and CJcolera Scourges, at Different Periods. 
 
 1851. — Frightful Panic in a N. Y. School of Eighteen Hundred Pupils. 
 Scores of Children Suffocated to Death. 
 
 1854. — Loss of the Splendid Collins Steamship Arctic. 
 
 Collision with Steamer Vesta, in Mid-Ocean, at Noonday, in a Dense Fog. 
 
 1857. — Foundering of the Steamer Central America. 
 
 More than 400 Lives Lost, and f 2,000,000 in Treasure. 
 
 1857. — Terrible Crisis in the Business and Financial W^orld. 
 Known as " the Great Panic." 
 
 1858. — Burning of the Steamship Austria. 
 Nearly 500 Lives Lost. 
 
60 TOPICAL OR CLASSIFIED LIST. 
 
 I860. — Fall of the Pemberton Mills, ix Lawrence, Mass. 
 Nearlij 1,000 Persons Buried in the Ruins. 
 
 18G5. — Assassination of Abraham Lincoln, President of the United States. 
 Darkest Page in the History of the Nation. 
 
 1868. — Disastrous Earthquake in California. 
 
 Severe and Repeated Shocks Over a Wide Extent. 
 
 1869. — AvoNDALE Colliery Disaster, in Pennsylvania. 
 
 More titan 100 Suffocated in the Mines. 
 
 1871. — Burning of Chicago, III., the Commercial Metropolis of the North- 
 AVest. 
 
 73 Miles of Streets, with 17,450 Buildings, Destroyed. 
 
 1872; — Terrible Fire in the Business Heart of Boston. 
 
 The Great Financial and Mercantde Center of Neiv Eiigland Consumed. 
 
no. subject. page. 
 
 1. Illustrated Gilt and Coloeed Title- 
 
 Page. 
 
 2. Signing the Declaration of Independ- 
 
 ence (Frontispiece). 
 
 3. Glory of the American Century, - - - 7 
 
 4. The Opened Pages, , - - » - - 15 
 
 5. The Kecord of Time, ,,.---- 17 
 
 6. Symbolical Head-piece, - » - . - 49 
 
 7. Genius of Art, --61 
 
 8. Ringing of the Bell, July 4th, 1776, - - - 65 
 
 9. Hall of Independence, Philadelphia, 1776, - 67 
 
 10. Gates's Head-quarters, ----- 72 
 
 11. General Burgoyne ; Portrait and Autograph, - 74 
 
 12. G&neTA\GaXiQ»\ Portrait and Autograph, - 74 
 
 13. Capitulation of Burgoyne's Army, - - 77 
 
 14. Hoisting First Naval Flag, 81 
 
 15. John Paul Jones ; Portrait and Autograph, - 83 
 
 16. First American Naval Victory, - - 84 
 
 17. Wonderful Dark Pay, May 19, 1780, - - 88 
 
 18. Traveling during the Darli Day, _ - - 89 
 
 19. Change of Scene after the Dark Day, - - 93 
 go. Price of Arnold's Treason, - - - - 97 
 
 21. Capture of Andre, ------ 99 
 
 22. Benedict Arnold ; Portrait and Autograph, - 100 
 
 23. West Point in 1780, 101 
 
 24. General Amold's Head-quarters, . - - 102 
 
 25. The House where Cornwallis Surrendered, - 104 
 
 26. Cornwallis's Surrender, - - - - 106 
 
 27. Cornwallis ; Portrait and Autograph, - - 110 
 
 28. Washington's Sword, 112 
 
 29. The Washington Elm, Cambridge, Mass., - 114 
 
 30. Washington's Resignation, - - - 115 
 
 31. Aniity between England and America, - - 119 
 
 32. George the Third ; Portrait and Autograph, - IgO 
 S3. First Minister to England,— Reception 
 
 of .John Adams, ------ 122 
 
 34. Juhn Adams; Portrait and Autograph, - - i'23 
 
 NO. 
 
 35. 
 36. 
 37. 
 38. 
 39. 
 40. 
 41. 
 42. 
 43. 
 44. 
 45, 
 46. 
 47. 
 48. 
 49. 
 60. 
 51. 
 52. 
 53. 
 64. 
 
 65. 
 56. 
 57. 
 58. 
 59. 
 60. 
 
 61. 
 62. 
 63. 
 64. 
 65. 
 
 66. 
 67. 
 68. 
 
 sub.iect. pagb 
 
 Scene in Shays's Rebellion, _ - - . 125 
 
 Shays's Forces in Massachusetts, - - 127 
 
 Daniel Shays; Portrait and Autograph, - - 128 
 
 GeneridlAncoln; Portrait and Autograph, - 130 
 
 Enrolling the Constitution, - . - . 132 
 
 Convention at Philadelphia, 1787, - - 134 
 
 Franklin Pleading for Pacification, - - - 136 
 
 Washington's Inauguration Bible, - - - 139 
 
 First Inauguration of a President, - 141 
 
 Presidential Mansion, 1789, - - - - 143 
 
 Presidential Mansion, 1878, - - - - 143 
 
 Treating with the Indians, ----- 146 
 
 Wayne's Defeat of the Indians, - - 148 
 
 Anthony Wayne; Portrait and Autograph, - 150 
 
 GenevRl St. Clan ; Po7-trail and Autograph, - 151 
 
 " Little Turtle "; PoWrai«, - - - - 152 
 
 Results of the Cotton-Gin, - - - - 153 
 
 Eli Whitney's Cotton-Gin, 1793, - - 155 
 'Eli Wliitney; Porti-ait and Aulogro/)h, - - 157 
 Causes of the Whiskey Insurrection in Penn- 
 sylvania, -------- ICO 
 
 Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania, 161 
 
 David Bnadford ; Portrait, - - - - 104 
 
 General Henry Lee; Portrait, - - - - 166 
 
 Washington, D. C, in 1876, - - - - "1 
 
 National Capitol in 1876, 172 
 
 Symbolic Statue of America, Surmounting the 
 
 U. S. Capitol, 1'2 
 
 Martha Washington ; Portrait and Autograph, 175 
 
 Death of Washington, December 14, 1799, 177 
 
 George Washington, as Colonel, - - - 178 
 
 George Washington, General U. S. A., - - 1'^ 
 George Washington, President of the United 
 
 States; Portrait mid Autograph, - - - 1T9 
 
 Tomb of Wrtshiimton, 1^0 
 
 U. S. Tribute to |{.irli;iry. ----- 182 
 
 CoravaoOLOreT»Ale; Portrait and Autograph, - 183 
 
Gl] 
 
 ILLUSTKATIONS. 
 
 NO. SUBJECT. PAGE. 
 
 C:). Commodore Preble ; Portrait and Autograph, 184 
 
 70. Commodore Bainbridge ; Portrait and Auto- 
 
 graph, -------- 184 
 
 71. Burning of the Philadelphia, - - - - 185 
 
 72. Commodore Decatur ; Portrait and Auto- 
 
 graph, -------- 186 
 
 73. Bombardment of Tripoli, - - - - 187 
 
 74. Monument to Alexander Hamilton, - - 189 
 
 75. Alexander Hamilton ; Portrait and Autograph, 190 
 
 76. AATOn Ban- ; Portrait and Autograph, - - 190 
 
 77. Scene of the Bdre and Hamilton Duel, 
 
 Weehawken, ------ 193 
 
 78. Total Solar Eclipse, in 1806, - - - 197 
 
 79. Progress of the Solar Eclipse, - - - - 198 
 
 80. Total Eclipse, in 1869, 199 
 
 61. Eclipse, as seen in Brazil, - - - - 202 
 
 82. Burr's Flight, 204 
 
 83. Breaking up of Burr's Expedition, - 208 
 
 81. Burr and His Deluded Followers, - - - 208 
 
 85. Theodosia ; Portrait and Autograph, - - 210 
 
 86. First Steam boat on the Hudson, - - - 212 
 
 87. Robert Fulton ; Portrait and Autograph, - 213 
 
 88. Fulton's First Steam boat, - - - 215 
 
 89. After the Earthquake, ----- 218 
 
 90. Scene of the Great Earthquake in the "West, 220 
 
 91. Earthquake Scene in San Francisco, - 223 
 
 92. Captain Hull; Portrait, 227 
 
 93. Action between tije Frigates Consti- 
 
 tution AND Guerriere, - - - - 230 
 
 91. Perry's Flag on Lake Erie, - - - - 234 
 
 95. Commodore Perry; Portrait and Autograph, - 236 
 
 96. Battle of Lake Erie,— Perry's Victory, 238 
 
 97. General Harrison ; Portrait and Autograph, - 241 
 
 98. A Cloud on the National Escutcheon, - - 242 
 
 99. General Winder ; Portrait and Autograph, - 244 
 
 100. President Madison ; Portrait, - - - - 246 
 
 101. Capture and Burning of Washington 
 
 BV THE British, in 1814, - - - - 247 
 
 102. Jack's Offering to his Country, - - - 250 
 105. Commodore McDonough; Portrait, - - 251 
 
 104. McDonougu's Victory on Lake Cham- 
 
 plain, -------- 254 
 
 105. American Defenses at New Orleans, - - 257 
 
 106. Andrew Jackson ; Portrait and Autograph, - 260 
 
 107. Battle of New Orleans,— Jackson's 
 
 Terrific Slaughter of the British, 262 
 
 108. Destruction by the Great Gale and Flood, - 264 
 
 109. The Ever-Memorable Gale, September 23, 
 
 1815, 266 
 
 110. Horrors of the Whirlwind throughout New 
 
 England, - - 2G9 
 
 111. The Landing of Lafayette at New York, - 272 
 
 112. Lafayette; Portrait and Autograph, - - 274 
 
 113. Sword of Honor Presented to Lafayette, - 276 
 
 114. Lafayette's Kesidence, ----- 277 
 
 115. Lafayette's Birthplace, ----- 279 
 
 116. Lafayette's Tomb, ------ 281 
 
 117. Preliminaries of the Code of Honor, - - 282 
 
 118. Henry Clay; Portrait and Autograph, - - 284 
 
 119. John Randolph; Portrait a7ul Autograph, - 286 
 
 120. Dueling-Ground at Bladensburg, - 288 
 
 121. The Jefferson Mansion at Monticello, - - 292 
 
 122. Thomas Jefferson ; Portrait and Autograph, - 294 
 
 123. The Adams Mansion at Quincy, - - - 296 
 
 124. The Victor's Wreath, 297 
 
 125. Robert Y. Hayne ; Portrait, - - - - 299 
 
 126. Daniel Webster; Portrait, - - - - 301 
 
 127. Webster's Reply in Hayne, - - - - r?04 
 
 128. Joseph Smith; Portrait and Autograph, - .308 
 
 129. Brigham Young; Portrait and Autograph, - 310 
 
 130. Mormon Temple, ------ 312 
 
 131. Salt Lake City, the Mormon Zion, - 313 
 
 NO. SUBJECT. PAGE. 
 
 132. Appeal of a Beautiful Girl to Gibbs to Spare 
 
 her Life, -------- 314 
 
 133. Pirate Gibbs ; Por/rai^ ----- 316 
 
 134. GiBBS Butchering the Crew of one of 
 
 his Prizes, ------- 313 
 
 135. Favorite State Emblem, S. C, - - - - 320 
 
 136. Old State-House at Columbia, - - - - 822 
 
 137. George McDuffie ; Portrait and Autograph, - 324 
 
 138. J. C. Calhoun ; Portrait and Autograph, - 326 
 
 139. Meteoric Shower at Boston, - - - 329 
 
 140. Meteoric Shower, as seen at Niagara Falls, - 331 
 
 141. Remarkable Meteoric Display on the Missis- 
 
 sippi, --- 334 
 
 142. The Preservation, 33t;^ 
 
 143. Attempted Assassination of President 
 
 Jackson, ------- 339 
 
 144. Richard Lawrence ; Portrait, - - - - 341 
 
 145. Hanging the Telegraph Wire, - - - - 345 
 
 146. The Original Telegraphic Instrument, 317 
 
 147. TrofessoiMorse; Portrait and Autograph, - 349 
 
 148. Orders of Glory Conferred on Professor 
 
 Morse, -------- 351 
 
 149. View of Wall Street during the Fire, - - 355 
 
 150. The Great Conflagration, as Viewed 
 
 from Coenties Slip, - - - - 357 
 
 151. Ruins of the Merchants' Exchange, - - 360 
 
 152. Monster Petition to Congress, - - - - 362 
 
 153. John Quincy Adams; Portrait and Autograph, 364 
 
 154. John Quincy Adams Defending the 
 
 Right of Pt.TiTioN in Congress, - - 368 
 
 155. Safe place for the Key to the Public Funds, - 373 
 
 156. Thomas H. Benton ; Portrait and Autograph, 375 
 
 157. Fac Simile Copy of Expunging Resolution, - 377 
 
 158. Singular Form of Auroral Arch, - - - 379 
 
 159. Magnificent Aurora Borealis of No- 
 
 vember 13 AND 14, 1837, - - - - 381 
 
 160. View of the Aurora Borealis in its Early 
 
 Stages, 3M 
 
 161. Captain Wilkes; Portrait and Autograph, - 388 
 
 162. View of the Antarctic Continent Dis- 
 
 covered by Com. Wilkes, U. S. N. - 390 
 
 163. Wilkes's Party Dealing with the Savages, - 392 
 
 164. Effect of the Temperance Reformation, - - 393 
 
 165. Signing the Pledge, ------ 396 
 
 166. Distinguished Temperance Advocates, 399 
 
 167. Exploring the North-west, - - - - 402 
 
 168. Planting American Flag on the Rocky Moun- 
 
 tains, by Fremont, ----- 404 
 
 169. John C.Fremor\t; Portrait and Autograph, - 405 
 
 170. Fremont on his Great Exploring Tour to the 
 
 Far West and Rocky Mountains, - - - 406 
 
 171. Charter vs. Constitution, ----- 408 
 
 172. Thomas 'W.T)orr; Portrait and Autograph, - 410 
 
 173. Governor King ; Portrait and Autograph, - 412 
 
 174. Final Dispersion of Governor Dorr 
 
 AND HIS Forces, ------ 413 
 
 175. The Black Flag, 415 
 
 176. Captain McKenzie ; Portrait and Autograph, 417 
 
 177. Philip Spencer; Por<rai^ o.7K/.<4«ft)5frapft, - 419 
 
 178. Hanging of Ringleaders from the 
 
 Yard-arm, 421 
 
 179. View of the Comet when Nearest the Earth, - 427 
 
 180. Appearance of the Comet in full 
 
 Splendor, ------- 428 
 
 181. Telescopic View of the Comet, - - - 430 
 
 182. The Great Day Prophesied by the Second Ad- 
 
 ventists, -------- 431 
 
 183. Symbolical Illustrations of the Sec- 
 
 ond Advent Prophecies, . - - 433 
 
 184. William Miller; Portrait and Autograph, - 437 
 
 185. Stockton's Great Gun, the " Peacemaker," - 439 
 
 186. YresidentTyler; Portrait and Autograph, - 440 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 63 
 
 Ko. suBJEcrr. page. 
 
 187. Secretary Qilmer; Portrait and AtUograph, - 442 
 
 188. Explosion of the Great Gun on Board the 
 
 United States Steamship Princeton, - - 443 
 
 189. Secret-dry Uyshar; J'ortrait and Autograph, - 444 
 
 190. Commodore Stockton ; Portrait and Auto- 
 
 graph, -------- 446 
 
 191. Trinity Church, New York, - - - - 4o0 
 
 192. Bishop B. T. Onderdouk; Portrait and Auto- 
 
 graph, -------- 452 
 
 193. Bishop H. U. Ouderdonk ; Portrait and Auto- 
 
 graph, -------- 452 
 
 194. " It Stingeth Like an Adder," - - - - 455 
 
 195. Relieving Pain by the Use of Ether, - - 456 
 li<6. The Three Claimants of the Discovery of 
 
 Painless Surgery, by Ether, _ - - 458 
 
 197. Monument Ebected in Honor of thb 
 
 Discovert of Ether, - - . - 462 
 
 198. Tlie Inventor Toiling in His Garret, - - 464 
 
 199. Eliiis Howe, Jr. ; Portrait and Autograph, - 466 
 
 200. The Old and New: Sewing by Hand and 
 
 Machine, -..---- 468 
 
 201. House in which Spiritual Rappings Originated, 472 
 
 202. The Misses Fox ; Portraits, - - - - 474 
 
 203. D. D. Home ; Portrait, - - ... 475 
 
 204. Cora L. V. Hatch ; Portrait, - • - - 477 
 
 205. Spiritual Autograph of Lord Bacon, - - 477 
 
 206. A. J. DA\is; Portrait, ----- 477 
 
 207. Judge Edmonds; Portrait, - - - - 477 
 
 208. Spiritual Autograph of Swedenborg, - - 477 
 
 209. Scene of Misery during the Famine, - - 479 
 
 210. Corn for the Land of Want and Woe, - - 482 
 
 211. Arrival of the Jamestown at Cork, - 484 
 
 212. Storming of Chapultepec, - - - 487 
 
 213. President Polk ; Portrait and Autograph, - 488 
 
 214. General Taylor ; Portrait and Autograph, - 489 
 
 215. Santa Anna; Portrait and Autograph, - - 490 
 
 216. General Scott; Portrait and Autograph, - 491 
 
 217. General Scott's Grand Entrance into 
 
 the Mexican Capital, - - - - 492 
 
 218. Lieutenant Lynch ; Portrait and Autograph, - 496 
 
 219. Valley of the Jordan and Dead Sea, 497 
 
 220. Right Bank of the Dead Sea, - - - - 498 
 
 221. Mining Operations in California, - . - 500 
 
 222. Sutter's Mill, where Gold was First 
 
 Discovered in 1848, ----- 502 
 
 223. John A. Sutter; Portrait, - - - - 503 
 221. James W. Marshall ; Portrait, - - - - 505 
 
 225. Forrest, as Spartacus, - - - . - 508 
 
 226. Edwin Forrest; Portrait and Autograph, - 510 
 
 227. Vf-CMacready; Portrait and Autograph, - 511 
 
 228. Astob Place Opera-House Riots, - - 513 
 
 229. Struck with the Cholera, ----- 515 
 
 230. Monument to the Victims op Choleea, 517 
 
 231. Horrors of the Great Epidemic, - - . 519 
 
 232. Professor Webster's Murder Appliances, - 523 
 
 233. T>octor PeirkmAn; Portrait a7id Autograph, - 625 
 
 234. Vroiesior^ehstet; Portrait and Autograph, 527 
 
 235. Professor Webster's Cell in Prison, - 529 
 g36. Henry Grinnell ; Portrait and Autograph, - 534 
 
 237. The Advance and Rescue, - - _ - 536 
 
 238. Doctor Kane ; Portrait and Autograph, - 538 
 
 239. View of the Arctic Regions, - - - 539 
 
 240. Jenny lj\nd; Portrait and Autograph, - - 543 
 211. P. T-BArnvLra; Portrait and Autograph, - 545 
 ;J12. Jenny Lind's Appearance at Castle Garden, - 547 
 a^3. Double Execution in San Francisco, - - 550 
 244. Seal of the California Vigilance Committee, - 552 
 J245. Executions by the Vigilance Commit- 
 tee, IN San Francisco, - - . - 555 
 
 246. George Steers ; Portrait, - - _ . . ggo 
 
 247. Yacht America; J. Q. SisyENS, Commo- 
 
 dore, ------,..562 
 
 NO. 
 
 248. 
 249. 
 
 250. 
 
 251. 
 
 252. 
 
 263. 
 
 254. 
 256. 
 
 256. 
 257. 
 258. 
 
 259. 
 260. 
 261. 
 
 262. 
 263. 
 
 264. 
 265. 
 266. 
 267. 
 268. 
 269. 
 270. 
 271. 
 272. 
 
 273. 
 274. 
 
 275. 
 276. 
 277. 
 
 278. 
 279. 
 280. 
 
 281 
 282. 
 283. 
 
 284. 
 285. 
 286. 
 
 287. 
 288. 
 
 289. 
 290. 
 291. 
 292. 
 293. 
 
 294. 
 295. 
 296. 
 297. 
 298. 
 299. 
 300. 
 301. 
 
 SUBJECT. PAGE. 
 
 "Cup of All Nations," Won by the America, 564 
 School-House on Greenwich Avenue, New 
 
 York, the Scene of the Awful Panic, - - 509 
 Frightful Catastrophe in a Public School- 
 House, New York, - ----- r)71 
 
 Monster Soa-Serpont at Full Length, - - 575 
 Appearance of the Huge Sea-Serpent 
 
 along the atlantic coast, - - - 579 
 United States Steamer Mississippi, Con- 
 veying Kossuth, ------ 583 
 
 Governor Kossuth ; Portrait and Autograph, 585 
 Grand Military Reception of Gov- 
 ernor Kossuth in New York, - - 588 
 Treaty of Peace, Amity, etc., - - - - 592 
 
 Commodore "Perry; Portrait and Autograph, 694 
 Naval Expedition to Japan, under Com- 
 modore M. C. Perry, - - - - 597 
 
 Interior of the World's Fair, New York, - 600 
 
 Theodore Sedgwick ; Portrait and Autograph, 602 
 Crystal Palace of New York, fob the 
 Exhibition of the Industries of All 
 
 Nations, --.-... 604 
 
 Steamship Arctic, ------ 608 
 
 Loss of the Collins Steamship Arctic, 
 BY Collision at Noonday in Mid- 
 ocean, --------612 
 
 Liberty for Kansas, ------ 616 
 
 Sensitor Butler ; Portrait and Autograph, - 618 
 
 Seu&tor Sumner; Portrait and Atitograph, - 620 
 
 Assault on Senator Sumner, by P. S. Brooks, 622 
 
 Preston S. Brooks; Portrait, - - - - 623 
 
 Trial of Mrs. Cunningham, - - - - 626 
 
 Doctor Burdell; Portrait, - - - - 628 
 
 Mrs. Cunningham; Portrait, - - - - 630 
 
 House in which Doctor Burdell was Mur- 
 dered, --632 
 
 Captain Herndon on the Wheel-house, - - 635 
 Foundering of the Steamer Central 
 
 America, ------- 637 
 
 Victims of the Central America, - - - 639 
 
 Run on a Bank, ------- 644 
 
 Excitement in Business Circles during 
 
 THE Great Panic, ----- 616 
 
 Effects of the Hard Times, - - - - 648 
 
 Book of Requests for Prayers, . - - 653 
 Group of Eminent Revival Preachers, dur- 
 ing the National Century - - - - 657 
 
 Dwight L. Moody ; Portrait, - - - - 661 
 
 Ira D. Sankey ; Portrait, ----- 661 
 
 Revival Meeting in Brooklyn, Con- 
 ducted by Messrs. Moody and Sankey, 603 
 Morphy's World-Renowned Triumphs, - - 006 
 PaulMorphy; Portrait and Autograph, - - 668 
 Paul Morphy, Playing Eight Games 
 
 OF Chess Without Seeing the Boards, 670 
 
 Escape from the Burning Steamer, - - 673 
 Burning of the Steamship, Austria, 
 
 WITH Five Hundred Souls on Board, 675 
 
 Last View of the Unfortunate Steamer, - 678 
 
 Accompaniments of the Prize Ring, - - 681 
 
 John Morrissey ; Portrait and Autograph, - 683 
 
 J. C. Heenan; Portrait and Autograph, - - 086 
 Homicide of Hon. P. B, Key, by Hon. D. 
 
 E. Sickles, - 689 
 
 Philip Barton Key; Portrait, - - - - 691 
 
 Mrs. Sickles ; Portrait and Autograph, - - 693 
 
 D. E. Sickles ; Portrait and Autograph, - - 695 
 
 Petroleum Wells, ------ 608 
 
 Petroleum Wells in Pennsylvania, - - - 700 
 
 Process of Boring for Petroleum, - - - 701 
 
 Burning of one of the Great Oil Wells, 701 
 
 The Spct where Broderick Fell, - - - 707 
 
64 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 NO. SUBJECT. PAGE. 
 
 302. D. C. Broderick ; Portrait, - - - - 709 
 
 303. The Body of Senator Broderick Lying 
 
 IN State, San Francisco, - - - 711 
 
 304. Capture of John Brown, ----- 715 
 
 305. John Brown ; Portrait and Autograph, - - 717 
 
 306. Harper's Ferry and the Arsenal 
 
 Taken by Brown, ----- 719 
 
 307. The Rescue, 723 
 
 308. KtJiNS OF Pemberton Mills, - - - 725 
 
 309. " Lizzie" Amidst the Awful Ruins, - - - 730 
 
 310. Japanese Box Containing the Treaty, - - 732 
 
 311. President Buchanan's Reception of the 
 
 Grand Embassy from Japan, - - 734 
 
 312. Ambassadors Simmi Boojsen Noliami and 
 
 Mooragaki Awajsi Nokami, - - - - 738 
 
 313. The Great Eastern, ------ 740 
 
 314. Arrival of the Steamship Great East- 
 
 ern, AT New York, - - - - 744 
 
 315. Execution of General Walker, - - - 748 
 
 316. General Walker ; Portrait and Autograph, - 750 
 
 317. Landing of General Walker's Filli- 
 
 bustering Expedition at Truxillo, - 752 
 
 318. The Prince of Wales at Washington's Tomb, 756 
 
 319. Prince of Wales; Portrait and Autograph, - 758 
 
 320. Grand Ball Given to the Prince of 
 
 Wales, in Boston, ----- 761 
 
 321. Flag of Fort Sumter, After the Bombard- 
 
 ment, -------- 764 
 
 322. Major Anderson ; Portrait and Autograph, - 766 
 
 323. General Beauregard; Portrait and Auto- 
 
 graph, -------- 768 
 
 324. Interior of Fort Sumter after the 
 
 Bombardment, ------ 770 
 
 325. " Cruiser," Untamed, ----- 772 
 
 326. JohnS. Rarey; Portrait,- - - - - 774 
 
 327. Mr. Karey Exhibiting his Celebrated Method 
 
 of Taming Horses, - - _ - - 777 
 
 328. Monument on tlie Bull Run Battle-field, - 780 
 
 329. General McDowell; Portrait and Autograph, 782 
 
 330. GeneraX Johnston; Portrait and Autograph, - 784 
 
 331. Battle of Bull Run, ----- 786 
 
 332. Interior of the Tower of the Monitor, - - 789 
 
 333. Connnodore Franklin Buchanan ; Portrait 
 
 and Autograph, - - - - - 791 
 
 334. Naval Combat between the Mebrimao 
 
 AND Monitor, - - - - - 794 
 
 335. lAeutenaniWorden; Portrait and Autograph, 796 
 
 336. Burying the Dead at Antietiim, - - . 793 
 
 337. General McClellan ; Portrait and Autograph, 800 
 
 338. General Burnside; Portrait, - - - 801 
 
 339. Battlf, ok Antietam, ----- 802 
 
 340. General " Stonewall " Jackson ; Portrait, - 803 
 
 341. General Hooker; Portrait and Autograph, - 804 
 
 342. Pen used in Signing the Proclamation, - - 807 
 
 343. Secretary Seward ; Portrait, - - - - 808 
 
 344. Secretary Stanton ; Portrait, - . . - 809 
 
 345. President Lincoln ; Portrait and Autograph, - 810 
 
 346. Proclamation of Emancipation, - - 812 
 
 347. Operations at Vicksburg, ----- 817 
 
 348. General Pemberton ; Portrait, - - - 819 
 
 349. Siege of Vicksburg, by General Grant, - - 820 
 
 350. General McPherson ; Portrait, - » - 822 
 
 351. Interview between Generals Grant 
 
 AND Pemiierton, ----- 823 
 
 3.52. Meade'H Head-quarters, ----- 826 
 
 353. General Meade ; Portrait and Autograph, - 828 
 
 3?4. Battle of Gettysburg, - - - - 830 
 
 355. GeneraXl/ongsWeet; Portrait and Autograph, 8,)2 
 
 3,56. Soldiers' Monument at Gettysburg, - - - 834 
 
 357. Rev. H. W. Beecher Defending the American 
 
 Union, in Exeter Hall, London, - - 8.'?8 
 
 358. Mr. Beecher's Church, Brooklyn, N. Y., - 843 
 
 no. subject. page. 
 
 359. Statue of Beethoven, in Boston, - - - 844 
 
 360. The Great Organ in Boston Music Hall, - - 846 
 
 361. Genius of Art and Music, - - - . - 848 
 
 362. Merchant "Vessel Burned by the Alabama, - 851 
 
 363. Captain Semmes ; Portrait and Autograph, - 853 
 
 364. Captain Winslow ; Portrait and Autograph, - 855 
 
 365. Naval Contest between the Keab- 
 
 sarqe and alabama, - - - - 857 
 
 366. Farragut's Flag-Ship, " Hartford," - - - 859 
 
 367. Admiral Farragut; /'ort7-aJi, - - - - 861 
 
 368. Admiral Porter; Portrait, - - - - 861 
 
 369. Admiral Foote; Por^?-ai<,- - - - - 861 
 
 370. Admiral Dupont; Portrait, - - - - 861 
 
 371. Union Naval Victory in Mobile Bay, - 8G4 
 
 372. Head-quarters, Atlanta, Ga., - - . - 868 
 
 373. General Sherman ; Portrait and Autograph, - 870 
 
 374. Sherman's Great March through the 
 
 Heart of the South, - - - - 872 
 
 375. General Grant Stating Terms of Surrender, - 877 
 
 376. Richmond, the Confederate Capital, 
 
 entered by the Union Army, - - 880 
 
 377. Lincoln's Early Home, ----- 887 
 
 378. Ford's Theater at Washington, - - - 888 
 
 379. The Assassination of President Lin- 
 
 coln, -----... 890 
 
 380. House where Lincoln Died, - - - - 891 
 
 381. J. Wilkes Booth; Portrait and Autograph, - 892 
 
 382. Lincoln's Residence at Springfield, 111., - - 893 
 
 383. Sergeant Boston Corbett; i'or<mi<, - - 894 
 
 384. Burial Place of Lincoln, 896 
 
 385. Section of the Atlantic Cable, - - - - 899 
 
 386. CyrusW. Field; Portrait and Autograph, - 901 
 
 387. Arrival of the Great Eastern at Heart's Con- 
 
 tent, with the Atlantic Cable, - . - 905 
 
 388. Mountain Scene on the Pacific Railroad, - 907 
 
 389. Completion of the Pacific Railroad, - 911 
 
 390. P. S. Gilmore; Portrait a^id Autograph, - - 917 
 
 391. National Peace Jubilee and Musical Festival 
 
 at Boston, ------- 920 
 
 392. Mr. Ogden's House Untouched in the Midst 
 
 of the Great Fire, ----- 924 
 
 393. Burning of Chicago, October 8 and 9, 
 
 1871, 928 
 
 394. Trinity Church, Boston, Destroyed, - - 931 
 
 395. Terrible Fire in the Business Heart • 
 
 OF Boston, Nov. 9 and 10, 1872, - - 934 
 
 396. Emblematic Head piece, ----- 938 
 
 397. Symbols of the Co-operative Labor Organiza- 
 
 tions, -------- 940 
 
 398. Spirit of the Grange Movement, - - 942 
 
 399. Scene During the Trial of H. W. Beecher, - 945 
 
 400. Rev. Henry Ward Beecher; Portrait and Au- 
 
 tograph, -------- 947 
 
 401. Theodore Tilton ; Portrait and Autograph, - 948 
 
 402. Mrs. Tilton ; Portrait and Autograph, - - 949 
 
 403. House in which Jefferson Wrote the Declara- 
 
 tion of Independence, ----- 951 
 
 404. Opening of the Centennial Exhibition 
 
 IN Philadelphia, ----- 953 
 
 405. Tlio Corliss Engine, ------ 954 
 
 40G. Exhibition Buildings in Philadelphia, 956 
 
 407. Independence Hall, July 4, 1876, - - 957 
 
 408. Union Square, New York, July 4, 1876, - 959 
 
 409. Reading the Orioinal Declaration op 
 
 Independence, July 4, 1876, - - - 961 
 
 410. Entrance of the N. Y. 7th Regiment, - - 963 
 
 411. State Avenue, Nat'l Centennbal Exhibition, - 964 
 
 412. Wom.in's Pavilion, Nat'lCentenn'lExhibit'n, 965 
 
 413. TiieTunisianTent,Niil'l Centenn'l Exhibit'n, 966 
 
 414. .All Hail to the Hereafter! - - - 968 
 
 415. Flair of the Gf^rman Empire, - - - - 969 
 HI). ]Zu\\)eTor Wi\\h\m; Portrait and Autograph, - 969 
 
I. 
 
 BIRTH OF THE NEW REPUBLIC— 1776. 
 
 Declaration of American Independence and National Sovereignty, July Fourth, 1776. — The Gauntlet of 
 Defiance thrown at the Feet of the British Empire by Her Youngest Colonies. — Vast Disparity, in 
 Power and Resources, between tlie Contestants. — Tlie whole World looks on Astonished — Seven 
 Years' Bloody and Desolating War. — The American Cause Triumphant. — Grandest Modern Event. 
 America Resists Unjust Taxation. — Haughty Obstinacy of King George. — Burning Eloquence of Pat- 
 rick Henry. — His Summons, " We Must Fight." — Washington Endorses this 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 British 
 Armies. — England Gives Up the Contest. — World-v/ide Welcome to the New Nation. 
 
 " It will be celebrated by succeeding venerations, as the Rroat anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorntpd as the day of deliverance, 
 by solemn acts of devotion to Almiiihty God. It ought to be solemnized with jminp and parade, with shows, paim.-. sports, guns, bells, bon- 
 fires, and illuminations, frura one end of the continent to the other, frojn this time forth, forevermore." — JouN AOAUs. 
 
 NE HUNDRED YEARS ago, namely, on 
 the Fourth of July, 1776, there was born in 
 the western world a New Nation, — the Re- 
 public OF THE United States. Defiance to 
 tyrants was emblazoned in empyreal light upon 
 hrr brow, iiid Freedom and Justice were the 
 frontlets between her eyes. Mon- 
 arch s, crowned with Icingly 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 they descried the eagle 
 of Liberty spreading her wings, 
 and soaring proudly 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- 
 ^»^^'i'>5 ciation, that "all men are created 
 
 RINGING OF THE BELL, JULY 4, 1776. CqUal. 
 
 Refusing to pay the tribute of taxation arbitrarily imposed 
 upon them at the point of the bayonet by the British crown, — 
 
66 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 failing, too, to move the king and his min- 
 isters from their career of liaughty 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 brevity, 
 " Nothing short of Independence, 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, andtliat 
 their political connection with Great Brit- 
 ain is and ought to be dissolved." Upon 
 this resolution there sprang up at once an 
 earnest and powerful debate. It was op- 
 posed, principally, 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 Jefft-rson 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 the great anniversary festival. It 
 ought to be commemorated as the day oi 
 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 wa& 
 known, throughout the city, that the great 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 67 
 
 event was to be Jeteriniued that day, by 
 the hist foi'inal acts ; but the closed doors 
 of congress 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 tlie words of national des- 
 tiny soon to be officiall}' proclaimed. From 
 the hour when congress came together in 
 the forenoon, all business was suspended 
 throughout the city, and tlie 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 bulow, to give immediate signal of the 
 turn of events. This bell, manufactured 
 
 felt such a professional pride, the electri- 
 fied old patriot rung forth 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 INDEPENDENCE, PHILADELPHIA, 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 arras, 
 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 which had clogged tlie 
 military action of the country. On the 
 ninth of July, therefore, Washington 
 caused it to be read at six o'clock in the 
 
68 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 evening, at the head of each brigade of 
 the army. " The general hopes," said he 
 m his orders, "that 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 country." 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 tlie 
 ground, broke it into fragments, whicli 
 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 Britisli 
 prisoners were courteously summoned to 
 witness the spirit 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 j)arole 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 as 
 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 as 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 p"ood humor and 
 excitement prevailed as among the throng 
 out of doors. The British officials were 
 received with great franknesss and cordi- 
 ality, and were allotted such stations as 
 enabled them to v/itness the whole cere- 
 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 whicli 
 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, 
 tlie 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 69 
 
 ancient commonweal tli, in the course of 
 political 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 world and the birth of the 
 new. 
 
 But the declaration, though it thus 
 solemnly inaugurated a new nation and 
 made the colonics, for the time, the theater 
 of patriotic jubilee, involved startling per- 
 ils and imposed momentous duties ; for it 
 was a defiant cliallenge 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 in 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 
 s 'parate 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 wbicli 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 tj'^rant, is 
 unfit to be tlie 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 tlie 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 
 nmst, tlierefore, acquiesce in the necessity 
 which denounces our separation, and hold 
 them, as we hold the rest of mankind, 
 enemies in war, in peace friends." Then 
 comes the port<Mitous conclusion — 
 
 " We, therefore, the representatives of 
 
 the United States of America, in general 
 congress assembled, appealing to the Su- 
 preme Judge for tlie rectitude of our inten- 
 tions, do, in the name, and by the author- 
 ity of the good people of these colonies, 
 solemnly publish 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 that 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 tliemselves 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 featherings" 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. Manj' of these 
 obnoxious families finally left the country, 
 and in course of time the tory element was 
 eradicated or completely silenced. 
 
 Scarcely less interesting and important 
 is the cTiaracter of the reception which 
 this remarkable document met on its ar- 
 rival in England. Of the noble band of 
 American patriots who had been chosen to 
 deliberate and act for the best good of the 
 
70 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 oppressed colonies, and who, preceding tlie 
 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 Chatliam), 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 rights and powers, Pitt 
 showed the exalted estimation in 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 el^ect, 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 of independ- 
 ence by the American colonies was greeted 
 with secret satisfaction by the court and 
 rulers, and aroused to universal gladness 
 the 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 entliusiasm, should I not speak 
 of those generous men who erected this 
 grand edifice by their patience, their wis- 
 dom, and their courage ! Hancock, Fi-ank- 
 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. In behold- 
 
 ing them, shall the friend of freedom feel 
 his heart palpitate with joy — feel his eyes 
 float in delicious tears. Under the bust of 
 one of them has been written, ' He wrested 
 thunder from heaven and the scepter from 
 tyrants.' Of the 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 the 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 
 — which, 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 the head of whom 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 
 army 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, b^ 
 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 Britain. In accordance 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 71 
 
 with this advice, Jolin Adams, Benjamin 
 Franklin, John Jay, and Henry Laurens, 
 were appointed. The commissioners met 
 Messrs. Fitzlierbert 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 tlie 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 he in con- 
 gress, that, when some of the members 
 suggested a hope of reconciliation, Mr. 
 Hopkins replied, that "the time had come 
 when the i^trongeat 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 
 tlie Britisli 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 sixtj'-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. 
 
 CAPITULATION OF GENERAL BURGOYNE.— 1777 
 
 First Royal Army Ever Surrendered to Americans. — Utter Failure of England's Grand Scheme to 
 " Subdue the Uebellious Colonies." — European Sympathy for the Struggling Infant Nation. — Alliance 
 Between France and the United States. — Brilliant and Effective Combination of French and Ameri- 
 can Forces — Gloomy Prospect for America in 1777. — Britain's Honor Intrusted to Burgoyne — His 
 MagniHcent Army. — Rebels to be Sternly Dealt With. — Sanguine Expectations of Success. — Savages 
 Leagued with tlie Invaders. — Their Murder of Miss McCrea. — Burgoyne's Triumphant Progress. — 
 Fall of Ticonderoga. — American Victories at Bennington, Etc. — Gates's Army in Fine Spirits. — General 
 Fraser Shot Dead — The "King's Regulars" Desperate. — General Clinton Fails to Aid Them — All 
 Hope Abandoned — Burgoyne Lays Down his Arms — His Meeting with Gates. — Trophies of This 
 Victory. — How Washington Got the News. — Unbounded Joy of Americans. — Crushing Blow to British 
 Pride. — Effect upon Other Nations. 
 
 " I have but to give ptrotch to the Indian forces under my direction— and they amount to thousands— to overtake the hardened enemies 
 of Great Britain.'- -Bukooy.ve's I'uoclamatiok. 
 
 N" the panels of that vast and superb 
 rotunda wliicli forms the center of the 
 federal capitol at Washington, are four 
 magnificent paintings by John Trumbull, 
 which illustrate tlie first four great events 
 in the history of the United States, 
 '^ namel}', the Declaration of American In- 
 ^ dependence, the Surrender of Burgoyne, 
 ^ the Surrender of Cornwallis, and the Res- 
 *!^^^ ignation of Washington as commander- 
 in-chief of the army. The design of this 
 Gates's HKAu-guAitiEiia. volume being to portray the scenes and 
 
 incidents relating to euch of those leading occurrences, of perpetual interest, in the rev- 
 olutionary period, — as well as those that illustrate the remaining years which constitute 
 the nation's first century, — the account which here follows will be descriptive of that 
 triumphant achievement of revolutionary valor, the reduction of I3urgoyne and his 
 forces in 1777 ; it being the first royal army that ever capitulated to the Americans. 
 It was also a fitting close to a year which had been marked by the arrival of Lafayette, 
 favor from the French government, the battles of Brandywine, Germantown, and Ben- 
 nington, the latter won by General Stark, and the occupation of Philadelphia by Gen- 
 eral Howe. 
 
 The campaign of 1777 opened under gloomy auspices, and promised to the American 
 cause little else than disasters. The army of Washington was totally inadequate in 
 numbers, discipline, and equipment, to cope with the enemy, with any prospect of suc- 
 cess. The genius of liberty was inclosed between two fires, and once more a fatal crisis 
 seemed approaching ; for, not only was General Howe preparing to embark with twenty 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 73 
 
 thousand veteran troops for the Delaware, 
 whence he was to move on Phihidelpliia, 
 but Burgoyne was approaching with about 
 half that number, backed by hordes of sav- 
 ages from the north. Burgoyne had long 
 been one of the pet generals in the British 
 army, and to him was specially intrusted 
 the prestige of British arms and honor in 
 the conflict with America. He was the 
 inheritor of great wealth, through his 
 father-in-law, the Earl of Derby ; he served 
 in Portugal with much credit, as brigadier- 
 general, in 17G2 ; for some time he was a 
 conspicuous member of parliament ; and 
 in 1775 he was ajipointed to a command in 
 America, " to subdue the rebellious colo- 
 nies." He witnessed the battle of Bunker 
 Hill. In 1776 he returned to England, 
 and had a long conference with George 
 III. on colonial affairs. In 1777 he was 
 appointed to lead the army which was to 
 penetrate from Canada into the United 
 States and crush to atoms the revolution- 
 ary forces ; — with what success, the fol- 
 lowing narrative will show : 
 
 Having arrived in Quebec with his com- 
 mission in May, 1777, this ambitious gen- 
 eral, inspired by the distinguished confi- 
 dence placed in his genius and ability by 
 the English ministry, immediately dis- 
 played great activity in making those 
 preparations which were necessary to the 
 success of an enterprise which was to de- 
 cide the fate of America. The regular 
 force placed at his disposal, consisting of 
 British and German troops, amounted to 
 upwards of seven thousand men, exclusive 
 of a corps of artillery numbering about 
 five hundred. To these was added a de- 
 tachment of seven hundred rangers, under 
 Colonel St. Leger, destined to make an 
 incursion into the country of the Mohawks, 
 and to seize Fort Stanwix. Accordinor to 
 the plan of operations decided upon by 
 Burgoyne, his principal array was to be 
 joined by two thousand Canadians, in- 
 cluding hatchet-men, and other workmen 
 whose services were necessary to render 
 the route practicable. A sufficient number 
 of seamen had likewise been assembled, 
 for manning the transports. Besides the 
 
 Canadians that were to be immediately 
 attached to the army, many others were 
 called upon to scour the woods in the 
 frontiers, and to occupy the intermediate 
 parts between the army which advanced 
 towards the Hudson and that which re- 
 mained for the protection of Canada; the 
 latter amounted, including the highlanO 
 emigrants, to upwards of three thousand 
 men. They were furnished by the san- 
 guine ministry with an unusual variety 
 and abundance of provisions, military 
 stores, and other conveniences, amongst 
 which was included a large quantity ot 
 uniforms, destined for the loyalists, who, 
 it was not doubted, would after victory 
 flock from all quarters to the royal camp. 
 A great number of cruel and intractable 
 savages were also gathered together to 
 swell the force and prowess of this invad- 
 ing host. Burgoyne had taken pains to 
 be seconded by many brave and able offi- 
 cers, among whom was Major-General 
 Phillips, the brigadier-generals Eraser, 
 Powel, Hamilton, and Specht, with the 
 Brunswick major-general, Baron Riedesel. 
 The whole army shared enthusiastically 
 in the ardor and hopes of its chiefs, and 
 not a doubt was entertained of an ap- 
 proaching triumph, and the thorough con- 
 quest and humiliation of America. The 
 most base feature in Burgojnie's plan of the 
 campaign was his employment of hordes 
 of wild and inhuman savages, whose onl}' 
 weapons were the tomahawk and scalping- 
 knife. But bitterly did he rue his course 
 in this respect, for the deeds enacted by 
 those hell-hounds of cruelty served, more 
 than any thing else, to exasperate the 
 American patriots, and to incite them to 
 determined resistance and triumph. The 
 murder of that lovely young woman, Miss 
 McCrea, at Fort Edward, and the bloody 
 massacre in the beautiful valley of Wyom- 
 ing, were the legitimate fruits of such a 
 policy as that of Burgoyne. 
 
 The first movement of Burgoyne was to 
 encamp near the little river Roquet, on 
 the western bank of Lake Champlain, a 
 short distance north of Crown Point. 
 Here he made addresses to the Indians to 
 
74 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 stimulate their ardor but repress their 
 ferocious propensities, and sent proclama- 
 tions into the country to intimidate the 
 people. He next made a short stop at 
 Crown Point, and tlien proceeded to invest 
 Ticonderoga. The right wing took the 
 western bank of the lake, the left advanced 
 upon the eastern, and the center was em- 
 barked upon the lake itself. 
 
 Unfortunately, the American ami}', des- 
 tined to oppose the progress of the royal 
 troops and to defend Ticonderoga, w'as 
 altogether insufficient. General Schuyler, 
 who commanded the American troops in 
 this quarter, had been disappointed in 
 procuring re-enforcements, and his men 
 numbered only about four thousand. Ti- 
 conderoga itself was very strongly fortified 
 on every side, and its defense was in- 
 trusted to General St. Clair, with a garri- 
 son of three thousand men, one-third of 
 these being raw militia, and all of them 
 poorly equipped. Although General St. 
 Clair put forth every exertion to retard the 
 operations of the advancing enemy, yet in 
 a few days they succeeded in getting j>os- 
 session of Mount Hope and Mount De- 
 fiance, two very important positions, one 
 of which commanded tlie American lines 
 to a dangerous degree, and the other over- 
 looked the entire fort. Ticonderoga be- 
 ing thus easily hemmed in on every side, 
 a council of officers concluded to evacuate 
 the fort. They accordingly withdrew on 
 
 the night of the fifth of July. All was 
 done in good order and profound silence ; 
 and the stores, artillery and provisions, 
 were put on board two hundred bateaux 
 and five armed galleys. They would prob- 
 ably have escaped unperceived by the 
 British, had not a house caught fire on 
 Mount Independence, which betrayed by 
 its light all that had taken place. The 
 Americans were immediately pursued, and 
 by the next afternoon their boats were 
 overtaken and attacked at Skenesborough 
 Falls. Two of the American galleys sur- 
 rendered, and three were blowr up ; and, 
 after setting fire to their works, mills, and 
 bateaux, that portion of the araiy escaped 
 up Wood Creek to Fort Anne. The van- 
 guard of the corps that set out by land, 
 under St. Clair, had arrived at Castleton ; 
 the rear had rested at Hubbardston, when 
 it was overtaken and attacked by General 
 Fraser, on the morning of the seventh. 
 An obstinate battle ensued, which at 
 length, after Riedesel came up, resulted in 
 the dispersion of the Americans, who left 
 many of their soldiers, together with their 
 brave commander. Colonel Francis, dead 
 
 on the field. St. Clair, aftor hearing this 
 news, struck into the woods in an eastern 
 direction, hoping thereby to mislead Bur- 
 goyne as to the course and position of the 
 American forces. 
 
 The English generals next resolved to 
 drive the Americans from Fort Anne. 
 After a sanguinary combat they finally 
 succeeded in this, by bringing suddenly 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 75 
 
 to their aid tlieir savage allies. The 
 Americans set the fort on fire, and re- 
 tired to Fort Edward, where General 
 Schuyler liad posted himself. On the 
 twelfth, St. Clair also arrived there with 
 the remains of the garrison of Ticonder- 
 oga. This, it was expected, would be the 
 next point of attack. But Burg03'ne was 
 detained at Skenesborough, through want 
 of provisions and stores. General Schuy- 
 ler took advantage of this delay, and neg- 
 lected no means to procure recruits and 
 to impede the progress of the enemy. 
 
 After succeeding in obtaining posses- 
 sion of Fort George, the British army with 
 much difficulty attained the banks of the 
 Hudson, near Fort Edward. The Ameri- 
 cans moved down to Stillwater. Bur- 
 goyne soon experienced a great depriva- 
 tion of provisions. While Colonel St. 
 Leger was investing Fort Stanwix, on 
 the Mohawk, he detached five hundred 
 soldiers and savages to procure cattle at 
 Bennington. To favor this expedition he 
 moved his army down to the bank opposite 
 Saratoga ; but a company of provincials 
 having assembled from different quarters 
 at Bennington, under the command of 
 Colonel Stark, the latter met the enemy 
 on the border of the town, and after an 
 obstinate encounter bravely repulsed them. 
 The British, however, were again strength- 
 ened by a fresh detachment, and once more 
 the Americans were attacked; but victory 
 declared for the latter, tlie English losing 
 seven hundred men and all their bagg-aee. 
 
 But at this time. General Herkimer, 
 who marched to the relief of Colonel Gan- 
 sevoort at Fort Stanwix, was ambushed by 
 the savages, who dispersed his corps with 
 all that frightful carnage characteristic of 
 Indian warfare. In a short time, how- 
 ever, the Indians became disaffected, and 
 the British were obliged to raise the siege 
 and retreat. 
 
 These successes of the Americans at 
 Stanwix and Bennington, inspired them 
 with new confidence. The harvests were 
 now ended, and the country people took 
 arms in multitudes, and hastened to the 
 camp elated with the expectation of van- 
 
 quishing the vaunted 'regulars of the 
 king.' General Gates, an officer of no 
 inconsiderable renown, was ai)[)ointed to 
 the command of the army, whicii also gave 
 a new spur to their alacrity ; they were ex- 
 cited, too, by the inhuman cruelties of the 
 savages under St. Leger and Burgoyne, 
 and the awful butchery of the young and 
 beautiful Miss McCrea, murdered in cold 
 blood at Fort Edward by the British-paid 
 Indians, which was still fresh in tiieir 
 minds, exasperated them to the extreme. 
 The savages now deserted Burgoyne, and 
 the Canadians were frightened to tlieir 
 homes, by the sinister aspect of affairs. 
 General Lincoln, with a strong and de- 
 termined lody of New Hampshire and 
 Connecticut militia, assisted hy Colonels 
 Brown and Johnston, proceeded with great 
 secrecy and celerity to repossess Forts Ed- 
 ward, Anne, and George, Mount Hope, 
 and Mount Defiance. Complete success 
 crowned this admirably conducted move- 
 ment. 
 
 General Burgoyne having amassed about 
 thirty days' provisions, resolved to pass tlie 
 Hudson, engage the American army, and 
 penetrate to Albany. Towards the mid- 
 dle of September, he crossed the river, and 
 encamped on the heights and plains of 
 Saratoga, Gates being then near Stillwa- 
 ter. Burgoyne had now to rely, almost 
 entirely, on his German and British regu- 
 lar troops, and a battle was soon expected. 
 This was reserved for the nineteenth of 
 September, and the question was to be de- 
 cided, whether the Americans could resist 
 the English upon equal ground, in fair 
 and regular battle. 
 
 Some small woods only separating the 
 two watchful and eager armies, they were 
 early on the nineteenth formed in the 
 order of battle. The right wing of the 
 British army rested upon the high grounds, 
 and the left wing and artillery, under Phil- 
 lips and Riedesel, kept along the road and 
 meadows by the river side. Gates took 
 the right of the American armj^ and gave 
 the left to Arnold. Smart skirmishes im- 
 mediately ensued between the foremost 
 marksmen of either party, and the two 
 
76 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876 
 
 forces soon met. General Fraser repulsed 
 the Americans. Finding the right flank 
 of the enemy's right wing so well defended, 
 they left a sufficient guard to defend this 
 passage, made a rapid movement to their 
 right, and vigorously assailed the left flank 
 of the same wing. Arnold exhibited upon 
 this occasion all the impetuosity of his 
 courage, and emboldened his men both by 
 voice and example. The action became 
 extremely warm ; and the enemy fearing 
 that Arnold, by cutting their line, would 
 penetrate between their wings — as was 
 manifestly his intention, — hastened to re- 
 enforce the points attacked. General 
 Fraser came up with the twenty-fourth 
 regiment, some light infantry, and Brey- 
 man's riflemen ; he would have drawn 
 more troops from the right flank, but the 
 heights, on which it was posted, were of 
 too great importance to be totally evacu- 
 ated. Meanwhile, sucli was the valor and 
 impetuosity of the Americans, that the 
 English began to fall into confusion, and 
 would have been utterly routed, but for the 
 arrival of General Pliillips with fresh men 
 and a part of the artillery; upon hearing 
 the firing, he had rapidly made his way 
 through a very (liiTicult wood to the scene 
 of danger. He restored the action at the 
 very moment it was about to be decided in 
 favor of the Americans ; but the latter, 
 nothing daunted, renewed their attacks 
 with such persevering energy, that night 
 only parted tlie combatants. 
 
 Benedict Arnold and Daniel Morgan 
 were the ruling spirits that directed the 
 battle on the part of the Americans, and 
 the gallant General Fraser was the direct- 
 ing soul of the British in action. His skill 
 and courage were everywliere conspicu- 
 ous. He was mounted upon a splendid 
 iron-gray gelding; and, dressed in the full 
 uniform of a field officer, he was a promi- 
 nent object in the eyes of the Americans. 
 It was evident that the fate of the battle 
 rested upon him, and this the keen ej-o 
 and sure judgment of Morgan perceived. 
 In an instant his purpose was conceived, 
 and. calling a file of his best irien around 
 bim, he said, as he pointed toward the 
 
 British right, " That gallant officer is Gen- 
 eral Fraser. I admire and honor him, but 
 it is necessary he should die ; victory for 
 the enemy depends upon him. Take j-our 
 stations in that clump of bushes, and do 
 your duty." Within five minutes Fraser 
 fell, mortally wounded, and was carried to 
 the camp by two grenadiers. Just previ- 
 ous to being hit by the fatal bullet, the 
 crupper of his horse was cut by a rifle ball, 
 and immediately afterward another passed 
 through the horse's mane, a little back of 
 his ears. The aid of Fraser noticed this, 
 and said, " It is evident that you are 
 marked out for particular aim; would it 
 not be prudent for you to retire from this 
 place?" Fraser replied, "My duty for- 
 bids me to fly from danger," and the next 
 moment he fell. This act is said to have 
 been originally suggested by Arnold. 
 
 After this battle, lUirgoyne waited 
 nearly a month to hear from General 
 Clinton. At length he received intelli- 
 gence, but it was of such a nature as oidy 
 to increase his disappointments and ren- 
 der his situation more hopeless. Driven 
 to extremity, he resolved to make another 
 effort to force a passage to Albany by his 
 enemy's left. In this he utterly failed, 
 and his troops were driven back to their 
 intrenchments, being pur.>jued with eager- 
 ness and great loss, even to their camj). 
 The Americans had now acquired an 
 opening on the right and rear of the 
 British army, whose situation was there- 
 fore rendered very perilous. I'urgo^yne 
 now operated a change of ground. But 
 General Gates had taken the precaution 
 to station strong divisions on almost every 
 side, to prevent the enemy's escape. r>ur- 
 goyne then retired to Saratoga , but so 
 miserable was the condition of his army, 
 that it occupied nearly two days to effect 
 this small movement of six miles, and even 
 left his hospital in the hnnds of the Ameri- 
 cans. Hoping to cross the river at Sara- 
 tojra, and retreat to the lakes to save his 
 army, he soon found that Fort Edward, on 
 the opposite bank, was too strongly man- 
 ned to admit of his attempting any such 
 purpose ; thereui^on he turned his atten- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 77 
 
 tion to Fort George, in hopes of crossing 
 there, lie was not long in ascertaining, 
 however, that there, too, the Americans 
 were strongly intrenched. 
 
 General Gates, with the main body of 
 the American army, thirsting for battle, 
 was hard upon Burgoyue's rear. In this 
 state of affairs it was, that the proud- 
 spirited Briton finally relinquished all 
 expectation of saving himself by his own 
 
 nature of the ground, could not be at- 
 tacked ; — such was the extremity that pre- 
 sented itself. But Burgoyne's troops, even 
 while the rifle and grape shot fell thickly 
 around them in this forlorn state, retained 
 their ordinary constancy, and, while sink- 
 ing under war's hard necessity, betrayed 
 no want of temper, or of fortitude. 
 
 Clinton's effort to relieve Burgoyne was 
 unsuccessful. He pushed up the Hudson 
 
 CAPITULATION OF BURGOYNE'S AKMY. 
 
 efforts. His only refuge from despair was 
 the faint possibility of co-operation from 
 the parts down tlie river ; and he looked 
 for the aid of Clinton with the most in- 
 tense desire. His army was in a pitiable 
 condition. Worn out, abandoned, half 
 their number slaughtered, and amongst 
 them the most distinguished officers; and 
 invested closely by a much greater force, 
 who refused to fight from a knowledge of 
 their helpless condition, and who, from the 
 
 river, captured Forts Montgomery and 
 Clinton, after a brave resistance by the 
 American garrison, and then, with wan- 
 ton cruelty, Sir Henry set fire to houses 
 and buildings of every description, de- 
 stroying, by conflagration, the church and 
 every other building in the beautiful town 
 of Esopus. After the capture of these two 
 forts, Clinton dispatched a messenger by 
 the name of Daniel Taylor, to Burgoyne, 
 with the cheering intelligence. Fortu- 
 
78 
 
 OUH FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187G 
 
 nately, lie was taken on the way as a spy. 
 Finding himself in danger, he was seen to 
 turn aside and take something from his 
 pocket and swallow it. The American 
 commander forthwith ordered a severe 
 dose of emetic tartar to be administered ; 
 this produced the effect — the prisoner dis- 
 charging a small silver bullet, which, on 
 beinor unscrewed, was found to inclose a 
 dispatch to Burgoyne. " Out of thine 
 own mouth thou shalt be condemned." 
 The spy was tried, convicted, and executed. 
 Perceiving, now, that all the passes in 
 his rear were strongly guarded, and that 
 further retreat or resistance was useless, 
 Burgoyne called a council on the fifteenth 
 of October. Whilo the council was qui- 
 etly deliberating, an eighteen-pound shot 
 crossed the table, and they resolved unani- 
 mously to offer terms to General Gates. 
 These proposals finally resulted in the ca- 
 pitulation of Burgoyne's whole army. The 
 news of the capture in the Highlands is 
 said to have arrived at this juncture, which 
 led General Burgoyne to temporize, in ex- 
 pectation of possible relief from Sir Henry 
 Clinton. Gates, seeing the critical mo- 
 ment, drew up his army for immediate on- 
 set, and sent in a flag, demanding a reply 
 in ten minutes. The exigency was immi- 
 nent, and Burgoyne felt it. With a trem- 
 bling hand and pallid countenance the 
 proud warrior signed the treaty. The 
 surrender was duly carried into effect on 
 the seventeenth of October. Burgoyne 
 having proposed to Wilkinson, the Ameri- 
 can adjutant-general, a desire to be intro- 
 duced to General Gates, they crossed the 
 Fishkill, and proceeded to head-quarters 
 on horseback. General Burgoyne in front, 
 with his adjutant-general and two aids- 
 de-camp behind him ; then followed Major- 
 General Phillips, the Baron Riedesel, and 
 the other general officers and their suites, 
 according to rank. General Gates, ad- 
 vised of Burgoyne's approach, met him at 
 the head of the American cam|). Bur- 
 goyne in a rich royal uniform, and Gates 
 in a plain blue frock. When they ap- 
 proached nearly within sword's length, 
 they reined up and halted. Adjutant- 
 
 General Wilkinson then formall^^ an- 
 nounced the names of the gentlemen, 
 whereupon General Burgoyne, raising his 
 hat most gracefully, said : 
 
 " The fortune of war, General Gates, 
 has made me your prisoner." 
 
 " / shall always he ready to hear testi- 
 mony," promptly replied the conqueror, 
 with a courtly salute, ^Hhat it has not 
 heen through any fault of your excellency." 
 
 Major-General Phillips then advanced, 
 and he and General Gates saluted and 
 shook hands, with the familiarity of old 
 ac(juaintances. The Baron Riedesel and 
 other officers were introduced in their 
 turn. General Gates, with great delicacy, 
 consented to an arrangement by which the 
 American soldiery were not to be present 
 when the British army underwent the 
 shame and humiliation of piling their 
 arms. 
 
 The trophies which were gained by this 
 great victory, were five thousand seven 
 hundred and ninety-one prisoners, a train 
 of brass artillery immensely valuable, con- 
 sisting of forty-two pieces of brass can- 
 non, besides seven thousand muskets, with 
 seventy-two thousand cartridges, and an 
 ample supply of shot, shells, and clothing 
 for seven thousand men, with a large num- 
 ber of tents and other military stores. 
 The American army numbered about three 
 times that of the enemy. 
 
 The American army engaged in this 
 victorious enterprise, contained many fine 
 officers. Schuyler was a man of great 
 good sense and experience, having been 
 an officer in the war of 1755 to 1763. 
 General Morgan, a bold and intrepid sol- 
 dier, was there, rendering most conspicu- 
 ous service. Arnold's heroism never shone 
 more brightly than in the various ordeals 
 through which he passed during this cam- 
 paign. Lincoln, too, showed himself to be 
 valiant and discreet even in the most try- 
 ing exigencies. Brooks's share in this 
 event is applauded by every historian of 
 the war, as is likewise the honorable career 
 of Dearborn and Hull. The other Ameri- 
 can generals, who may be named in this 
 campaign, are Poor, Learned, Ten Broeck, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 79 
 
 Fellows, Patterson, Nixon, and Glover. 
 Of General Gates, the central figure in 
 tins great act, it may be remarked, that, 
 though ui«juestionably a man of talents, 
 he was so far deficient in judgment as to 
 be influenced by the arts and representa- 
 tions of those who, under the lead of Gen- 
 eral Conway, — whose offensive conduct in 
 this matter finally led to a duel between 
 him and General Cadwalader — were en- 
 gaged in a scheme to wrest the supreme 
 command of the revolutionary army from 
 Washington and have it conferred upon 
 Gates. At this very time, the intrigue of 
 the Conway faction was at its height, and 
 the officers who were implicated in it 
 seized upon the occasion to strike a deci- 
 sive blow. The disastrous loss of the battle 
 just fought at Germantown they charged 
 to Washington's delaying his division at 
 the Chew House. So artful and persever- 
 ing were they in these representations of 
 Washington's incompetency, and so bril- 
 liant had Gates's military repute become 
 by the magnificent victory with which he 
 had relieved the public despondency, that 
 the idea began to prevail in the minds of 
 many, that the days of Washington's as- 
 cendency were numbered and finished. 
 Gates, in his invidious rivalry of Wash- 
 ington, would not deign to communicate 
 the news of his victory to the latter, but 
 sent a courier direct to congress instead. 
 It was, curiously enough, at the precise 
 period when Washington's star had be- 
 come dimmed by military reverses, that 
 the rumor was found circulating through 
 his camp, of Burgoyne's having been con- 
 quered and his whole army taken prison- 
 ers by General Gates. The excitement 
 became intense, and all were on the watch 
 for news from the north. Several days, 
 however, passed away, and no further in- 
 telligence was received. Washington, of 
 course, had heard the rumor, and doubtless 
 appreciated the effect it would have, if 
 true, upon public opinion, as between the 
 merits of himself and Gates. 
 
 Now, it so happened that Washington's 
 head-quarters were on the road leading 
 from Germantown to York, where congress 
 
 was then in session. On the forenoon of 
 Saturday, October eighteenth. Colonel 
 Pickering, adjutant-general of the army, 
 was there transacting business with Wash- 
 ington. They were in a room of the sec- 
 ond story, at the corner of the house, 
 looking up the road that led from the 
 north. While sitting there, a horseman 
 was seen approaching, whose appearance 
 indicated that he had traveled long and 
 from far. His aspect, his saddle-bags, 
 and the manner of his movement, indi- 
 cated that he was an express-rider. The 
 attention of both Washington and Picker- 
 ing was at once arrested. They took it 
 for granted that he must be bearing dis- 
 patches from the northern army to con- 
 gress, and were sure that he could inform 
 them whether the report of Burgoyne's 
 surrender was well founded. As he ap- 
 proached nearer, Pickering recognized him 
 as an officer of the northern army. At 
 Washington's request, he ran down to the 
 door, stopped him, and conducted him up 
 to the general's room with his saddle-bags. 
 Washington instantly opened them, tore 
 the envelope of a package, spread out an 
 announcement of the victory at Saratoga 
 and Burgoyne's surrender to General 
 Gates, and attempted to read it aloud. 
 As he read, the color gradually settled 
 away from his countenance, his hand 
 trembled, his lips quivered, his utterance 
 failed him — he dropped the paper, clasped 
 his hands, raised them upward, and, thus 
 transfixed, was for several moments lost in 
 a rapture of adoring gratitude. " While 
 I gazed," said Colonel Pickering, "upon 
 this sublime exhibition of sensibility, I 
 saw conclusive proof that, in comparison 
 with the good of his country, self was ab- 
 solutely nothing — the man disappeared 
 from my view, and the very image and 
 personification of the patriot stood before 
 me." 
 
 Throughout America, the joy which this 
 victory produced, was unbounded. Indeed, 
 the contest between England and the 
 United States was believed to be substan- 
 tially decided. Though the war might be 
 kept up longer, no further doubt was en- 
 
80 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 tertained of the success with which the 
 revolutionists' efforts would be ultimately 
 crowned. Nor was it amongst the small- 
 est advantages expected from it, that it 
 would probably decide the uncertain and 
 balancing politics of foreign courts, anx- 
 ious to separate America from Britain, but 
 apprehensive of the hazards to be encount- 
 ered by taking open part in the war. The 
 thanks of congress were voted to General 
 Gates and his army ; and a medal of gold, 
 in commemoration of this great event, was 
 ordered to be struck, to be presented to 
 him by the president of congress, in the 
 name of the United States. 
 
 The effect produced by this event on the 
 other side of the Atlantic, and in particu- 
 lar on the British cabinet and nation, was 
 prodigious. It seemed to remove all the 
 delusive liopesof easy conquest with which 
 the English had so long flattered them- 
 selves, and suddenly to display in open 
 view the mass of resistance which had got 
 to be encountered. The previous disasters 
 of the American arms had induced a be- 
 lief in Europe, even among the friends of 
 the colonists, that the cause of independ- 
 ence could not succeed. The rapid ad- 
 vance of Burgoyne into the interior, the 
 fall of the important fortress of Ticonder- 
 oga. and the boastful announcements of 
 victory continually made by the British 
 and circulated all over Europe, had pro- 
 duced a general impression that the colo- 
 nists were virtually subdued In the 
 midst of all this, came the unexpected 
 and astound! Uij intellifjrence that Bur- 
 goyne and all his forces had laid down 
 their arms in submission to an American 
 general. 
 
 On the evening of the day on which the 
 ministry received their private dispatches 
 containing the news, a rumor of their con- 
 tents had got into the house of commons, 
 just as the members had assembled. One 
 of the members arose, and with the most 
 imperative earnestness of manner ad- 
 dressed the treasury benches, demanding 
 what were tlie accounts from America 
 Being compelled to disclose the mortifying 
 fact, the chancellor of thq exchequer arose, 
 
 and, in a weak and faint voice, informed 
 the house it \\ as too true tliat General Bur- 
 goyne and his army were prisoners of war. 
 
 At this announcement, a storm of indig- 
 nation, sarcasm, reproacli and invective, 
 was poured upon the king's ministers by 
 the opposition leaders, who overwhelmed 
 them with the bitterest declamation on 
 their imbecility, rashness, and obstinacj'. 
 In the house of lords, the Earl of Chatham 
 — the foremost man of the realm — moved 
 to amend the address in answer to the 
 speech from the throne, by introducing a 
 clause recommending to liis majesty an 
 immediate cessation of hostilities, and the 
 commencement of a treaty of conciliation. 
 He vehemently condemned the emplo}'- 
 ment of merciless savages to wage a "bar- 
 barous war against our brethren," and 
 was desirous of peace ( n any terms short 
 of the dismemberment of the empire. 
 Such, however, was the infatuation of the 
 court and ministry, that their hostile plans 
 were still persevered in, the government de- 
 claring that "if ten thousand men cannot 
 conquer America, J?/?^ thousa?id shall!'' 
 And with the help of strong majorities in 
 l)arliament, more supplies were raised, new 
 troops levied, and the war carried on. 
 
 The most important among the imme- 
 diate consequences of Burgoyne's surren- 
 der, was the treaty of alliance between 
 America and France. The communica- 
 tion of this important intelligence from 
 the American commissioners in France, 
 diffused extreme joy throughout the Unit- 
 ed States, being received by the people as 
 the harbinger of their independence ; and 
 in this they were not disappointed, for men, 
 arms, and money were liberally supplied 
 by their generous ally, until an acknowl- 
 edgment of that independence was wrung 
 from King George. Such, then, was the 
 part played by that army which had ex- 
 cited such high expectations in Britain, 
 and which, at first, spread alarm and dis- 
 may throughout tlie United States. Poor 
 Burgoyne, returning home on parole, was 
 ill received. The king, petulant and mor- 
 tified, refused to see him ; but he never 
 Jiad a more faithful servitor. 
 
III. 
 
 FIRST AMERICAN NAVAL VICTORY.— 17T9. 
 
 John Paul Jones, Commanding the Bon Homme Ricliard, Figlits and Captures King George's Power- 
 ful Ship-of War, the Serapis, in British Waters. — Crowds of Spectators Line the English 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 Ins 
 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 hy 
 his Movements. — Characteristic Anecdotes. — Two British Frigates in Sight. — Jones Ready for Bloody 
 Work. — Tlie 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 mobt obstinate and bloody battle in the annala of naval warfare."— J. Fenimoke Coopeh. 
 
 HOISTING 
 
 UCH an exploit fis that performed by John Paul Jones, in 1779, 
 by which, in plain siglit of the English coast, he flung to the breeze 
 the gallant ensign of the United States, and, with Britons as -wit- 
 nesses of his daring, fought, victoriously, a battle which has always 
 been spoken of as the most obstinate and sanguinary combat that 
 ever occurred between single ships, can never be read of by Ameri- 
 ■\vith other than the deepest and most enthusiastic interest. Tlie 
 ctory came, too, at one of the darkest hours in the revolutionary cam- 
 n, and served to gladden and encourage, for the time being, the de- 
 dent hearts of honest patriots. The vaunted invincibleness of tlie 
 i.sh navy became a by-word of contumely, the Avorld 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 storm 
 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 i)roximity of the two vessels, the muzzles of tlie 
 ships' batteries almost reaching into each other's i^ort-holes. 
 John Paul Avas born in Scotland, on the sixth day of 
 July, 1747, and the scenery and associations of his birth- 
 place— Arbigland— and its vicinity, doubtless encouraged 
 that restless spirit of adventure and love of change, as 
 well as that ardent enthusiasm in the objects of his pur- 
 E suit, which so strikingly characterized his career through life. 
 At the age of twelve, he was apprenticed to a merchant 
 FIRST NAVAL FLAG, ^f "Whitehavcn, who carried on a considerable trade with 
 6 
 
82 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the American colonies. His first voyage 
 was made before he was thirteen years old, 
 being 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 he 
 retained tlirough 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 he 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 national ensign 
 being thus for the first time displayed from 
 a man-of-war. The circumstances attend- 
 ing this interesting occasion are stated to 
 liave 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. Wlien he reached the deck of tlie 
 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, 
 "Z)o?i7 tread on me.^" This memorable 
 act, it was Jones's high honor and privilege 
 to perform when in his twenty-nintli }■ car ; 
 
 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-eight 
 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 earl 3'^ gave prestige to 
 American prowess on the ocean, is that of 
 which a detailed account is given below : 
 
 It w^as 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^ 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 83 
 
 tliough not with such difficulty as would 
 have been the case had not the moon 
 shone forth with great brightness, and the 
 weatiier 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 Roj^al." 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 
 nine-pounders on the middle gun deck, 
 two six-pounders on the quarter-gun 
 deck, two six-pou4iders on the spar deck, 
 one six-pounder in each gangway, and two 
 six-pounders on the forecastle. She was 
 manned by three hundred and eighty 
 men and boys. The Serapis, on the other 
 hand, Avas a new ship, built in the best 
 manner, and with a much heavier arma- 
 ment. She mounted twenty eighteen- 
 pounders on her lower gun deck, twenty 
 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 the 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 Seraj^is 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 sliot of the 
 Serapis had entered 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 ? " "I 
 have7i't begun to fifjht yet ! " thundered 
 forth the brave Jones, in reply. 
 
 A novelty in naval combats was 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 
 
 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 success 
 in a combat under such circumstances. 
 
84 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 85 
 
 One of the most disheartening facts in 
 the early part of the action, was tlie silenc- 
 ing of the battery of twelve-pounders, on 
 which Jones had placed his principal de- 
 pendence. 
 
 Brave and dauntless sailor as he was, 
 Jones stuck to his little batteiy, and stimu- 
 lated his men with w^ord 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 
 his 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 ray 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 
 dryly remarked : " Well, 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 
 wath a medical officer, — the surgeon of the 
 Richard, — who ran up from the cock-pit, 
 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 sinldng ? " " 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 w^as 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 w'ounded 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 w-as 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 daj^, September 
 twenty-third, the brig from Holland not be- 
 ing in sight, we chased abrigantine that ap- 
 peared' laying to, to windward. About 
 noon, we saw and chased a large ship that 
 appeared coming round Flamborough Head 
 from the northward, and at the same time 
 
86 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 I manned and armed one of the pilot boats 
 to send in pursuit of the brigantine, which 
 now appeared to be the vessel that I had 
 forced ashore. Soon after this, a fleet of 
 forty-one 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 
 ^hips 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 the ene,my, 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 
 ointil seven in the evening, being tlien 
 •within pistol-shot, when he hailed the Bon 
 Homme Richard. We answered him by 
 tiring a whole broadside. 
 
 The battle being thus begun, was con- 
 tinued with unremitting fury. Every 
 method was practiced on both sides to gain 
 iin 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 
 ]iad to deal witli an enemy of greatly su- 
 ])erior force, I was under tlie necessity of 
 closing with him, to prevent the advantage 
 which he liad over me in point of ma- 
 neuver. It was my intention to lay the 
 Bon Homme Richard athwart the enemy's 
 bow ; 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 mizzenmast, and I made both ships 
 fast together in that situation, which by 
 the action of the wind on the enemy's sails, 
 forced lier stern close to the Bon Homme 
 Richard's bow, so tliat the ships lay square 
 alongside of each other, the yards being 
 
 all entangled, and the cannon of each ship 
 touching the opponent's. 
 
 I directed the fire of one of the three 
 cannon against the mainmast, with dou- 
 ble-headed shot, while the other two were 
 exceedingly well served with grape and 
 canister shot, to silence the enemy'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 battery, 
 which was entirely formed of ten-pound- 
 ers, was incessant ; both ships were set on 
 fire in various places, and the scene Avas 
 dreadful beyond the reach of language. 
 To account for the timidity of my three 
 under-officers, I mean the gunner, the car- 
 penter, and the master-at-arms, I must 
 observe, that the two first were slightl}'- 
 wounded, and, as the ship liad 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 hnd done that before, by 
 carrying away the ensign-staff; he was 
 therefore reduced to the necessit}'' of sink- 
 ing, as he supposed, or of calling for quar- 
 ter, and he jjreferred 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- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 87 
 
 Hance 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 l>on Homme Richard. 
 We called to him for God's sake to forbear 
 firing into the Bon Homme Richard; yet 
 they passed along the off side of the ship, 
 and 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 tlie lire 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 would 
 not, however, give up the point. The ene- 
 my's mainmast began to shake, their firing 
 decreased fast, ours rather increased, and 
 the British coloi'S 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 fort}-- 
 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. 
 
88 
 
 OUE riKST CENT UK Y.— 1776-1876. 
 
IV. 
 
 THE WONDERFUL DARK DAY.— 1780. 
 
 The Northern States wrapt in a Dense Black Atmosphere for Fifteen Hours. — The Day of Judgment 
 Supposed to have Come — Cessation of Labor. — ReHgious Devotions Resorted to. — Tlie Herds 
 Retire to tiieir Stalls, the Fowls to their 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 Thunder.— 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 
 Objects.— 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 riay in northern America was one of those wonderful phenomena of nature which will always be read of with interest, but 
 which philosophy is at a loss to explain."— Uerscuel. 
 
 UlFKIcrLTY OF i KWELIXG. 
 
 ^"■v!:ii 
 
 LMOST, if not altogether alone, as tlie most 
 mysterious and as yet unexplained phenome- 
 non of its kind, in nature's diversified range of 
 events, during the last century, stands the 
 Dark Dajj of May 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 iniquities 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 biblical liistory,— unless speedy repentance and 
 
90 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 reformation took place. The ignorant in- 
 dulo-ed in vague and wild conjectures as 
 to the cause of tlie phenomenon ; and 
 those profounder minds, even, that could 
 "gauge the heavens and tell the stars," 
 were about equally at loss for any 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, or it 
 is not. If it is not, there is no need of 
 adjourning. If it is, I desire to be found 
 doing my duty. I move that candles be 
 brought, and that we proceed to business." 
 The time of the commencement of this 
 extraordinary darkness was between the 
 hours 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 
 wliich 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 affairs conveniently, without the light 
 of candles. 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 tlie neighbor- 
 hood of Boston for at least fourteen or fif- 
 teen hours ; but it was doubtless longer or 
 shorter in some other jilaces. The appear- 
 ance and effects were such as tended to 
 make the prosj)ect 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 the break of day; objects could 
 not be distinguished at a comparatively 
 slight distance ; and everything bore the 
 aspect and gloom of night, — to say noth- 
 ing of the effect upon the minds of the 
 peojile, which, indeed, was quite inde- 
 scribable. 
 
 The above 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 particular ob- 
 servations made in different j^arts 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 this 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 red- 
 ness in their color, and divested of their 
 usual briglitness 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 May. 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 91 
 
 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, sixty- 
 seven ; at three o'clock, it was at twenty- 
 nine inches, sixty-five ; at eight minutes 
 past eight, it was at twenty-nine inches, 
 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 
 twent^'-nine inches, sixty-five, 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 complexion of the clouds was com- 
 pounded of a faint red, yellow ;ui<l brown, 
 — that, during the darkness, objects which 
 commonly appear green, were of the 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 who made any record of the day's ap- 
 pearance. But Prof. Williams states that, 
 to him, almost every object appeared tinged 
 with yellow, rather than with any other 
 color; and this, whether the thing was 
 near, or remote from the eye. 
 
 Another element of peculiarity, in this 
 remarkable scene, was the nature and ap- 
 l^earance 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, sootj^ smell, 
 which characterized the air. A similar 
 appearance, in this respect, manifested 
 itself in other localities; it was especially 
 exhibited on the Merrimac river, large 
 quantities of black scum being seen float- 
 ing upon the surface of that stream, dur- 
 ing the day. In the night, the wind 
 veered round to the north-east, and drove 
 this substance towards the south shore; 
 when the tide fell, the matter lay for 
 
92 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 many miles along the shore, the width of 
 the deposit being some four or five inches. 
 An examination of a considerable quantity 
 of tliis substance, in several places, failed 
 to show anything of a sulphurous nature, 
 eithei- in its taste, color, oi- smell. Prof. 
 "Williams states that, being apprehensive 
 as to wliether there was not some uncom- 
 mon ingredient in the air that daj^, he put 
 out several sheets of clean paper in the air 
 and rain. When they liad been out four or 
 five hours, he dried them by the fire. They 
 were much subied, and became dark in 
 their color, and felt as if the}^ had been 
 rubbed with oil or grease ; but. upon burn- 
 ing them, there could not be detected any 
 sulpliurous or nitrous particles. 
 
 The motion and situation of the cur- 
 rents or bodies of vapor in the atmosphere 
 likewise exhibited some striking peculiar- 
 ities. In most jilaces, it was very evident 
 that the vapors were descending from the 
 higher parts of the atmosphere towards 
 the surface of the earth. A gentleman 
 wlio 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 tlie morning, after a shower, 
 the vapors rose from tlie 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 large cloud, then moved 
 off a little to the westward. A second 
 cloud was formed in tlie same manner, 
 from the same springs, but did not ascend 
 so 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 upjier 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 
 
 the 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 lighted 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 the 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 w^as a 
 shower of rain, with some lightning and 
 thunder, about daybreak in the morning, 
 the rain continuing, with intervaLs, until 
 after sunrise. The morning Avas 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 
 
 93 
 
 south ; tliougli the atmosijhere was as calm 
 as the bhiiulest suminei- inoniing. Tlicro 
 was sonu'tliinir inoro of a luminous appear- 
 ance in the horizon, tluiu in tlie hcmi- 
 sphei'e in general; also, a most nuTrlced 
 liveliness of tint to the grass and other 
 green vegetation ; and a very noticeable 
 yellowness in the atmosphere, wliicli made 
 clean silver nearly resemble the color of 
 brass. At about twelve o'clock, noon, tlie 
 singular obscuration ceased ; the greatest 
 darkness, at any particular time, was at 
 least as dense as what is commonly called 
 ' candlelighting,' in the evening. In the 
 town of Hartford, and the neighboring 
 villages, the phenomenon was observed 
 with all its distinctive peculiarities ; and, 
 by some i>er.-;ons, the disc of the sun was 
 seen, at the time of the greatest deficiency 
 of light. 
 
 su(;h buildings. At twelve, the darkness 
 was greatest, and a little rain fell ; in tlie 
 street, the aspect was like that at the be- 
 ginning of evening, as lights were seen 
 burning in all the houses. The clouds 
 Avere thinnest at the north; at the nortli- 
 east, the clouds were A'ery thick, and so 
 low that hills could not be seen at the dis- 
 tance of half a mile ; south-westerly, hills 
 might be clearly seen at the distance of 
 twenty miles, though the intermediate 
 space was so shaded that it was impossi- 
 ble to distingui.^h woodland from pa-ture. 
 At half-past twelve, tlie clouds, having 
 been hitherto detached, began to concen- 
 trate at such an height, that all the hills 
 became visible, and the country around 
 exhibited a most beautiful tinted verdure ; 
 at one, the clouds became uniformly 
 spread, and the darkness was not greater 
 
 CHANGE OF SCENE AFTER THE DARK DAY. 
 
 In Middlesex 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. I'etween 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 Avas 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, altliongh 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 
 east. He repeats and confirms the state- 
 
94 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ment made by others, that, previously to 
 the commencement of the darkness, the 
 sky was overcast with the common kind 
 of clouds, from which there was, in some 
 places, a moderate fall of rain. Between 
 these and the eartli, there intervened an- 
 other stratum, apparently of great thick- 
 ness ; as this stratum advanced, the dark- 
 ness commenced, and increased witli 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 bo- 
 ing probably occasioned by two strong cur- 
 rents of wind from tlie southward and 
 westward, condensing the vapors and 
 drawing them to the north-east. 
 
 The result 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, tlie 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, the second 
 stratum of clouds was observed, but it was 
 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, tlie lower cloud-stratum had 
 an uncommon brassy hue, while the earth 
 and trees were adorned with so enchant- 
 ing a verdure as couhl not escape notice, 
 even amidst the unusual atmosplieric 
 glooui 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 whicli over- 
 spread the land of Egypt, in tlie days of 
 Moses. If every luminous body in tlie 
 universe had been shrouded in impenetra- 
 ble shades, or struck out of existence, it 
 was thought the darkness could not liave 
 been more complete. A sheet of wliite 
 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 tliat, at night, a sufficient quan- 
 tity of rays should not be able to j^enetrate 
 the same strata, brought back by tha shift- 
 ing of tlie winds, to afford the most ob- 
 scure prospect even of the best reflecting 
 bodies. The denseness of this evening 
 darkness was a fact universally observed 
 and recorded. 
 
 In view of all the information contained 
 in the various accounts of this day, 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 higlily 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 tlie specific grav- 
 ity of any vapor is less than the specific 
 gravity of the air, such a vapor will, by 
 the law of fluids, ascend in the air ; where 
 the specific gravity of a vapor, in the at- 
 mosphere, is greater than that 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 May, 
 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 the observations cited, the vapors 
 were noticed to ascend, until they rose to 
 a height where the air was of the same 
 specific gravity — a height not mucli above 
 the adjacent hills, — and here they in- 
 
GKEAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 
 
 95 
 
 stantly spread, and floated in tlie atmos- 
 phere. From these data, the conclusion 
 is drawn, that the phice where the vapors 
 were balanced mu^t 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 which 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 depend on the density, color, 
 and situation of the clouds and vapor, and 
 the manner in which they would transmit, 
 reflect, refract, or absorb the rays 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 higlier in the atuiospliere. 
 
 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 dilferent 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 densit}^, to absorb or 
 transmit the different kind of rays, so the 
 colors 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 
 year ; nor could it be a blazing star — much 
 less a mountain, — that darkened the at- 
 mosj^here, 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 
 
96 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 which 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 — 
 fat, combustibles, oily matter from various 
 kinds of earth, the juice of trees, plants 
 and herbs ; salinous and nitrous particles 
 from salt, snow water, 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 wliich 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 A^ast region of coun- 
 try ; and, though various conjectures were 
 indulged in, as to the cause of so extraor- 
 dinar}' 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 majf 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 irladness acrain to the faces of the 
 3'oung, 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. 
 
 X 
 
V, 
 
 TREASON OF MAJOR-GENERAL BENEDICT ARNOLD.— 1780. 
 
 Darkest Page in American Revolutionary History. — Plot to Deliver West Point, the Gibraltar of Amer- 
 ica, Over to the British. — Movements of the 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 while 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 Mrs. Ar- 
 nold — Andre's Trial and Conviction. — Arnold's Reward for His Crime. — His Unlamented Death, 
 
 "Providence, which has so often and so remarkably interposed in our favor, never manifested itself more conspicuously than in the timely 
 discovery of Arnold's horrid intention to surrender the post and garrison of West Point to the enemy."— Washihotom. 
 
 I ARK and tragical, indeed, is that page in the history of 
 the American revolutionary 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 story 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 
 PRICE OF ARNOLD'S TREASON. ^f the blackcst 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 w'ith 
 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 exasperated the minds of the Canadians, 
 who previously were not hostile to the Revolution. 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 
 
98 
 
 OUE FIKST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 expec- 
 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. Miss 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. Through 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 
 witli 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 interview 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 
 his return in the evening of the twenty- 
 second, accompanied by Joshua Smith, and 
 2:)assed the night at Crompond. The next 
 morning he crossed the Hudson to King's 
 Ferry on the east side. A little beyond 
 the Croton, Smith deeming him safe, bade 
 him adieu. Alone, and without having 
 excited the least suspicion, Andre jiassed 
 the American guards, and was silently 
 congratulating himself that he had passed 
 all danger, when, coming to a place where 
 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 their 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 99 
 
 had first represented himself to be was 
 merely by waj"- 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 fortli 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. 
 
 Wliile 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 anyplace 
 that might be fixed upon, 
 
 Williams asked, ironically, whether he 
 would not give more than all that. 
 
 Andre rej^lied, that he would give any 
 reward they might name either in goods 
 or money, and Avould remain with two of 
 their party while one went to New York 
 to get it. 
 
 CAPTUKB OF ANDKE. 
 
 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 witli 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 — 
 
 "My 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, Avas 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 might 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 
 
100 
 
 OUR FIKST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 custodj-, 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 vtoulcl 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 Avas 
 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 Rochambeau, the French 
 naval commander. The latter prevailed 
 on him to return to Fishkill for the night, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 101 
 
 as he had matters of importance to com- 
 municate. 
 
 The next 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 tlio wliole party in higli 
 spirits puslied 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. Lafayette 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 tlie capture of Andre, and wlio 
 had been brouglit in to Jameson's post, by 
 tlireo militiamen, Paulding, Williams, and 
 Van Wart, his captors, whom tlie gallant 
 but unfortunate man vainly endeavored to 
 bribe, in order to his release. Tliey 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 tliathewas unexpectedly 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 pros- 
 enceof the company, without, of courst\ 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 cids, and taking a 
 b3'--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 
 
102 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Mrs. Arnold was in her room, unwell, he 
 said he 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 tlie 
 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 liis 
 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 in what state things 
 are with you." 
 
 And now it was that Hamilton broke 
 the astounding news to his chief. The 
 1 ittei', 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 ivG trust noiv?'^ His countenance 
 was calm as ever, and being inforuied 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 Wasliiiigton, 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 of 
 demeanor, except that he was more than 
 
 GENERAL ARNOLD'S 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 Arnold 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 dreadful 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 
 wrote 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 103 
 
 Mrs. Arnold and her baggage over to the 
 British side. 
 
 Wasliington, though his heart was filled 
 with the keenest sorrow for the fate of one 
 so universall}' 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 golden 
 reward he was to have received had he 
 succeeded in delivering West Point to the 
 enemy, is not known ; £30,000, most prob- 
 ably. 
 
v'l. 
 
 CORNWALLIS SUKRENDERS HIS SPLENDID ARMY TO 
 
 GENERAL WASHINGTON.— 1781. 
 
 Final Catastrophe to British Arms in America. — Consternation and Despair in the Cabinet of King 
 
 George Tiieir Vaunted Wager of Battle Returns to Them with the Loss of their Fairest Possession. 
 
 Washington's Countrymen Everywhere Hail and Extol Him as their Deliverer. — Last Act in the 
 
 Military Drama. — Cornwallis Halts at Yorktown — Makes it His Defensive Post. — Decoy Letter 
 Sent by Washington. — The British Strongly P'ortified.— 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 — Cornwallis Prefers Death to Defeat —Reckless 
 Bravery of Washington. — Ardor and Exultation of His Tronps. — Cornwallis 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 God! It uallover— it iialloverl"— LOED North, Peime Ministee or Enolakd, on Heabino of Coknttali-is's Sukbendbb. 
 
 — •••» 
 
 T the liead of a i:)Owerful army, with 
 wliich he had just established himself 
 in Virginia, Lord Cornwallis Taunt- 
 ingly wrote to General Clinton, his 
 su^^erior, as follows : — 
 
 " I have ventured, these last two 
 days, to look General Washington's 
 whole force in the face, in the jiosi- 
 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 Cornwallis have 
 time to awake from his d;*}'-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 inform congress that a reduction of the British army, 
 under the command of Lord Cornwallis, is mo.st 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 my 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 HOUSE WHKKK (DKNWALLIS .SUKIIENDEIUCD. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 105 
 
 highest 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 south, thus setting the seal of 
 American success upon the contest with 
 the mother country, — was the capture, as 
 announced in the above dispatch, of Lord 
 Oornwallis and his splendid army, at York- 
 town, Virginia, in October, 1781, by the 
 ■combined American and French forces 
 under General Washington and Counts de 
 Hochambeau and Grasse. 
 
 In the summer of 1781, Cornwallis had 
 taken possession of several places 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- 
 hle of protecting ships of the line. Little 
 did he think, as he began leisurely to for- 
 tify the place, that it was a net which 
 would entangle him in crushed hopes and 
 ruined fortunes. Yorktown is situated at 
 the narrowest part of the 2'>eninsula formed 
 hy 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. 
 
 Lafaj^ette, with an inferior number of 
 "troops, was at this time at Williamsburg, 
 hut was unable to make successful engage- 
 ments w4th 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 
 iorces, 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 Rochambeau at the head of the 
 T'rench 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 the 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 expecting 
 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, the 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 ami}" occupying 
 the right, and the French the left, forming 
 a semi-circle with each wing resting upon 
 the river. On the night of the sixth of 
 October the besieging army 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. Many of their 
 guns were soon silenced, and their Avorks 
 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 Avorking parties were not dis- 
 covered until day-light, Avhen 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 jiarallel of the Ameri- 
 cans, that gave great annoyance to the 
 latter, and it was deemed necessary to 
 carry them by storm. To prevent national 
 jealousy, however, and to keep ali^-e the 
 
106 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 spirit of emulation which animated the co- 
 opei'ating armies, the attack of one was 
 assigned to the American troops, and that 
 of the other to the 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- 
 okition of crossing over to Gloucester 
 Point in the night, and cutting his way 
 through the blockading force there — then, 
 mounting his men on whatever horses he 
 could seize, make a rapid march northward 
 and join Sir Henry Clinton ! By this 
 
 C'Olt.N\VALLls'.-j bUlKK.NDElt. 
 
 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, 
 
 movement he would abandon his sick and 
 baercraaje : but he would save himself the 
 discrrace 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. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 107 
 
 In the mortification and anguish of his 
 soul, Cornwallis shed tears, and expressed 
 his preference for death rather than the 
 ignominj'- of a surrender. But there was 
 no resource — the liandwriting 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 discii^lined, 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 forces, Washington had, 
 seasonably and with shrewd forecast, writ- 
 ten a letter to Lafayette, then in Virginia, 
 which he caused to he intervepted. In this 
 letter he remarked that he was pleased 
 with the probability that Earl Cornwallis 
 would fortify either Portsmouth or Old 
 Point Comfort, for, were he to fix xipon 
 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 deco}^ 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 uhe allies and 
 the surrender of Yorktown. Thus it was 
 that Washington by his 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 
 VN^as an intensely-excited spectator. He 
 had dismounted from his horse — the mag- 
 
 nificent charger, 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 
 he exposed himself to ever}'- 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 Avith an expression 
 of extreme satisfaction, remarked, briefly, 
 " The work is done, and %vell 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 already 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 chaviade Avas 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 
 
108 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 
 in 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 Inlaying, which was a novelty in the 
 American service. The American troops, 
 but part in uniform, and all in garments 
 much the worse for wear, yet 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. ^'Cornwallis 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 bim 
 the portentous dispatch. The haughty 
 premier was astounded and humbled. In 
 the words of Lord Germain, in answer to 
 the inquiry how Lord North received the 
 news? — "As he would have received a bull 
 in his breast; for he opened his arms, ex- 
 claiming wildly as he paced up and down 
 the apartment, ' Oh God f It is all over — 
 it is all over/'" 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 Cornwall is's 
 embarrassments, gave great anxiet}' 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 Grey'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, hai)pened 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 Stormount's residence in Portland 
 Place. Having imparted the disastrous 
 information to him, they determined, after 
 a short consultation, to lay the intelligence 
 themselves in person before Lord North, 
 with what result has already been stated 
 on the authority of a writer in Blackwood's 
 Magazine. 
 
 Tlie 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 fortj'-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 proi> 
 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 109 
 
 Lord George, as secretary for the American 
 department, sent off a dispatch to tlie 
 king, then at Kew, acquainting him witli 
 Cornwallis^s fate. 
 
 One who was intimate in the circle of 
 court actors and secrets at that time says : 
 — I dined tliat 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 and six o'clock. Lord 
 AValsingham, 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 does, 
 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 
 just 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 years, 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 
 rc'c-eivod, saying — 
 
 "The army has surrendered, and yon 
 may peruse the particulars of the capitula- 
 tion in that paper." 
 
 The paper was taken from his pocket, 
 and road 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 maj- 
 esty'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 i-esult 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." All the world 
 agree that no expedition was ever better 
 planned or better executed. For the 
 
110 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 " great glory and advantage " of Cornwal- 
 lis's subjection, Washington afterwards 
 acknowledged himself chiefly indebted to 
 the French alliance. And in the proceed- 
 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 by that 
 body's A'ote, to each commander engaged 
 in the siege ; and to Washington were 
 presented two stands of colors taken from 
 the enemy, and two pieces of field ordnance 
 to Counts Rochambeau and de Grasse. 
 
 Tlie 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 during the siege, and speci- 
 fying by name several of the generals and 
 •other officers who had 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. Wasliington 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 midniglit — the 
 •clatter of his horse's hoofs the only sound 
 that broke the silence of tlie 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, lie roused tlie 
 .^sleeping president, saying, "Cornwallis is 
 taken ! " The watclnnen caught the words, 
 and when tliey called " One o'clock," they 
 added, "and Cornwallis is taken!" As 
 they moved slowly on their nightly rounds, 
 Avindows were flung open and eager coun- 
 tenances were everywhere scanning tlie 
 streets. A hum. like that of an awaken- 
 
 ing hive, immediately pervaded the city. 
 The inhabitants went jiouring into the 
 streets, while shout after shout rose on the 
 midnight air. The old bellman w'as roused 
 from his slumbers, and soon the iron 
 tongue of the bell at the state-house rang 
 out, as of old, "Proclaim liberty 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, 
 
 accomj^anied the glad news as it traveled 
 exultingly over the length and breadth of 
 the land. Every voice was loud in its 
 l^raise 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 
 cc;. -'Lcsy due to a gallant and unfortunate 
 foe. The elegant manners, together with 
 the manly, frank, and soldierly bearing of 
 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 tlie head-quarters to the offi- 
 cers of the three armies, "\^^shington filled 
 his glass, and, after his favorite toast, 
 whether in peace or war, of "All our 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 friends," gave "The Britisli army," \vitli 
 some complimentary remarks ujion its 
 chief, his proud career in arms, and liis 
 galhxnt defense of Yorktown. Wlien 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 jjosts, but nothing on 
 a more 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 
 tiian from those of the Chesapeake." 
 
VII. 
 
 ADIEU TO THE ARMY BY WASHINGTON.— 1783. 
 
 ikffecting Interviews and Parting Words between the Great Chieftain and His Comrades-in-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 Generalsliip. — 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- 
 lis. — Proceeds to the Halls of Congress. — Impressive Ceremonial There — Rare Event in Human 
 
 History. 
 
 <■>» 
 
 " 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 public life."— Washiko- 
 ton's Retirement as Revolutionaky Leader. 
 
 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, he, Cincinnatus-like, sheathed his sword, 
 and surrendered his high commission to that power which had in- 
 vested him with its authority. 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 principally 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 
 WASHINGTON'S SWORD. War aud on the battle-field, was universal. Mr. Adams states that 
 in regard to this election, there was in congress a southern party against a north- 
 
 ern, and a jealousy 
 
 against 
 
 a 
 
 Ne 
 
 w 
 
 England 
 
 army under the command of a 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 113 
 
 New England general ; but whether this 
 jealousy was sincere, or whether it was 
 mere pride and ambition — the ambition of 
 furnisliing a southern general to command 
 the northern army, — 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 conspicuous positions in which 
 he had thus been placed, and the saga- 
 cious judgment which was known to have 
 characterized him in important emergen- 
 cies, he had, for a long time past, enjoyed 
 a fine reputation 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 vassalage, on the part of his coun- 
 trymen, to show that he would be no will- 
 ing subject of coercion, 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, the 
 uncertainty in the minds of the people, 
 their great expectation and anxiety, the 
 distresses of the army, the danger of its 
 ■dissolution, the difficulty of collecting an- 
 other ; and the probability that the Brit- 
 ish army would take advantage of these 
 delays, march out of Boston, and spread 
 desolation as far as they could go. He 
 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 Virginia — one of their own 
 number, and well known to them all, — a 
 8 
 
 gentleman whose skill and experience as an 
 officer, whose independent fortune, great 
 talents, and excellent general character, 
 would command the approbation of all 
 America, and unite the cordial exertions 
 of all the colonies better than any other 
 person in the Union. 
 
 Mr. Washington, who happened to sit 
 near the door, as soon as he heard this al- 
 lusion to himself, with his usual modest}', 
 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 opi^osition, 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 were 
 persuaded to withdraw their opposition, 
 and Mr. Washington was nominated l>y 
 Mr. Thomas Johnson, of Maryland, unan- 
 imously elected, and the army adopted. 
 
 His official commission was at once 
 drawn up and presented to him ; a copj^ of 
 which most interesting document is given 
 below : — 
 
 " hi Congress. We the delegates of the 
 United Colonies of New Hampshire, Mas- 
 sachusetts Bay, Rhode Island, Connecticut, 
 New York, New Jerse}^, Pennsylvania, 
 New Castle, Kent, and Sussex on Dela- 
 ware, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, 
 and South Carolina, 
 
114 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 To George Washinf/fon, 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 
 every hostile invasion thereof. And 3'ou 
 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 you 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, Charles Thomson, Secretary." 
 
 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 militar}^ order. Under the 
 sliadow 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 
 country were established. The record of 
 his services is the history 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 twenty-seventh of 
 August, and that of White Plains on the 
 twenty-eighth of October. On the twenty- 
 fifth of December he made the memorable 
 passage of the Delaware, and soon gained 
 the victories of Trenton and Princeton. 
 The battle of Brandy wine was fought on 
 the eleventh of September, 1777, and that 
 of Germantown, October fourth, Febru- 
 ary twenty-eighth, 1778, witnessed his 
 "glorious and happy day," as he himself 
 tei-med it, at Monmouth. In 1779 and 
 1780 he conducted the military operations 
 in the vicinity of New York ; after which, 
 in 1781, he marched to Virginia to watch 
 the movements of Lord Cornwallis, whom 
 he forced to surrender at Yorktown, in 
 October, by Avhich great achievement he 
 put an end to the active operations of the 
 revolutionary struggle, and secured peace 
 and independence to his country. 
 
 With the return of peace, and the 
 achievement of independent nationality, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 115 
 
 the wisdom and patriotism of Washington 
 were to be severely tested, and in a most 
 unexpected manner, in connection with the 
 form of government to be adopted by the 
 United States. The English government 
 was regarded by many of the 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 the title of King, 
 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 : 
 
 " Sir, — With a mixture of great sur- 
 prise and astonishment, I have read with 
 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 
 
 WASHINGTON'S RESIGNATION. 
 
 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 you have 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 
 
116 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 , myself, you 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 amjile 
 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 you, then, if you have any 
 regard for your country, concern for your- 
 self or posterity, or respect for me, to 
 banish these thoughts from your 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 
 t 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 " Roslin 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 
 had done 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, difiiculty, 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 your 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 retui-ning 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, Avho 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, my dear general, farewell! " Wash- 
 ington seized his hand most heartily, when 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 117 
 
 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 journey, 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 v.ould 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 b}^ 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 by the sec- 
 retar}', 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. 
 
 When the hour arrived, the president, 
 General Mifflin, 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 service, — he concluded 
 with those affecting Avords, 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 Avork assigned me, I 
 retire from the theater of action, and, 
 bidding an affectionate farewell to this 
 august body, vinder whose orders I have so 
 long acted, I here offer my commission, 
 and take my leave of all the employments 
 of public 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 Mifflin replied, review- 
 ing the great career thus brought to a 
 close, and saying, in conclusion : 
 
 " The glory of your virtues will not ter- 
 minate Avith your military command; it 
 Avill 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 
 
118 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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." 
 
VIII. 
 
 APPOINTMENT OF THE FIRST MINISTER PLENIPOTEN- 
 TIARY, FROM THE NEW REPUBLIC TO THE 
 ENGLISH COURT.— 1T85. 
 
 John Adams, America's Sturdiest Patriot, and the Foremost Enemy of British Tjranny, Fills tliis 
 High Office — Interview between Ilim and King George, His Late Sovereign. — Tiieir Addresses, 
 Temper, Personal Bearing, and Humorous Conversation. — Tiie 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 tiie British Realm. 
 
 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 His 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 must avow to your majesty, I have no attachment but to my own country."— JOHW Adaus to Kino Georoe. 
 "An honest man will have no other."— Tais Ki.no's I.vstant Rei-ly. 
 
 g3 O deep-seated and festering were 
 the old animosities between Amer- 
 ica and the 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 
 peace. The United States were 
 accused of having infringed those 
 articles which contained agree- 
 ments respecting the payment of 
 debts, the confiscation of propert}', 
 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 stipulated 
 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, in 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 upon the important step of 
 
 AMITY BETWEEN ENGLAND AND AMERICA. 
 
120 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 appointing, after the manner of independ- 
 ent nations, a Minister Flenipotentiary to 
 the court of Great Britain ! 
 
 In February, 1785, John Adams was 
 duly accredited ambassador, to represent 
 the United States at that court. 
 
 That George the Third was as obstinate 
 a man as ever ruled a kingdom, no histo- 
 rian 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 
 be shown, that in that which fell from his 
 own lij)s, in the presence of the new en- 
 voy, namely, " / xoas the last man in the 
 kingdom, sir, to consent to the independ- 
 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 
 
 1775, in the memorable continental con- 
 gress, at Philadelphia, suggested George 
 Washington 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 usurper. 
 
 The kingly ceremony of acknowledging 
 the colonies independent took place, in conr- 
 formity with previous arrangements, on 
 the fifth of December, 1782, in the hou»e 
 of lords. The scene was one which 
 drew together an immense and won- 
 dering crowd of spectators, conspicu- 
 ous among M'hom 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 foggy day, and the 
 windows being elevated and con- 
 structed in the antiquated style, 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. Tlie 
 celebrated American painters. West and 
 Copley, were in the throng, with some 
 American ladies, also a number of dejected- 
 looking American royalists. 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 
 ritrht 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 121 
 
 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 conA'^ulsive movement, he added — 
 "yV'ee 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 praj-er 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 royal 
 master. In an account given by Mr. 
 Adams himself, of his movements at this 
 time, he says : At Versailles, the Count 
 de Vergennes said he had many felicita- 
 tions to give me upon my appointment to 
 England. I answered that I did not 
 know but it merited compassion more than 
 felicitation. "Ay, why?" "Because, as 
 3'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," rej^lies the 
 count, "it is a great thing to be the first 
 ambassador from your country to the 
 countrij you sprang 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 proof enough of 
 that.'' 
 
 In the month of May, INIr. Adams trans- 
 ferred himself and family to the other side 
 of the channel, prepared to undertake the 
 new duties to which he had been ap- 
 pointed. The first thing to be done was 
 to go through the ceremon}- 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 
 
122 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 Row, 
 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 very 
 agreeable conversation during the whole 
 time. Some other gentlemen, whom I 
 had seen before, came to make their com- 
 
 FIKST MINISTER TO ENGLAND. KECEPTION OF JOHN ADAMS. 
 
 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. While I 
 stood in this place, where it seems all min- 
 isters stand upon such occasions, always 
 
 pliments to me, until the IVIarquis 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 123 
 
 then I addressed myself to liis majesty in 
 the following words : 
 
 "Siue: 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 evitlcnce of it. It is in obe- 
 
 .■*■■..• rr---s 
 
 /dimJldamA 
 
 dience to their express commands, that I 
 have the honor to assure your 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 your 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 countr}^ 
 more and more to your majesty's roj'al 
 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 nuxnner 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 ansAvered 
 me with more tremor than I had spoken 
 with, and said — 
 
 " Sir : The circumstances of this audi- 
 ence are so extraordinary, the language 
 you 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 you, 
 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 1 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 
 indejiendent power. The moment I see 
 such sentiments and language as yours pre- 
 vail, and a disposition to give this country 
 the preference, that moment I shall say, let 
 the circumstances of language, religion, 
 and blood, have their natural, full effect." 
 
 The king then asked me whether I came 
 last from France; upon my answering in the 
 affirmative, he put on an air of familiarity, 
 and, smiling, or rather laughing, said — 
 
 "There is an opinion among some peojile 
 that you are not the most attached of all 
 your countrymen to the manners of 
 France." 
 
 " That ojiinion, sir, is not mistaken ; I 
 must avoiv to your majesty, I have no at- 
 tachment hut to my own country^ 
 
 The king replied as quick as lightning — 
 
 '■'■An honest man will have no other J^ 
 
 The king then said a word or two to the 
 
124 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 secretary of state, which, being between 
 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-chamberlain, — 
 having first been attended to his lordship 
 and introduced to him by the master of 
 the ceremonies. The queen was accompa- 
 nied by her ladies-in-waiting, and Mr. 
 Adams made his compliments to her maj- 
 esty 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 acknowledged and 
 admired in America, as well as in all the 
 nations of Europe, as an example to prin- 
 cesses 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 prosperity 
 and happiness. It will, in future ages, be 
 the glory of these kingdonis to have peo- 
 pled 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 prosperity of na- 
 tions and the happiness of the human race. 
 
 After venturing upon such high insinu- 
 ations to your majesty, it seems to be de- 
 scending 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 your 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 un- 
 happy George, perhaps few were felt so 
 bitterly as this almost compulsory inter- 
 view with the representative of a i:)eople, 
 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 3'oung 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 
 this marked fault may be traced in its 
 relations with foreign nations, but it never 
 showed itself in more striking colors than 
 during the first half century after the in- 
 dependence of the United States. The 
 effects of the mistake then committed have 
 been perceptible ever since. 
 
IX. 
 
 FIRST ORGANIZED REBELLION" IN THE UNITED 
 
 STATES.— 1786. 
 
 Daniel Shays, at the Head of an Armed and Desperate Force, Boldly Defies the State and Federal 
 Lasvs in Massadiuselts — " Taxation and Tyranny" the Alleged Grievances — Alarming Disaffection 
 Throughout all New England. — Bad Leaders and Furious Mobs. — Kout of the Insurgents, by General 
 Lincoln, in the Dead of Winter. — Patriotic Old Massachusetts in a Ferment. — Causes of Publie Dis- 
 content — Total Exhaustion of Credit— Prostration of Trade — Ruinous Debts, Heavy Taxation — 
 Weakness of the Government. — An Excited Populace. — Turbulence and Lawlessness. — All Authority 
 
 Spurned. — A Bloody Conflict Invited — Courts of Justice 
 Broken Up. — Indignation of Washington — Heroism on 
 the Bench — The National Forces Augmented. — Fears 
 of a General Civil War — Unscrupulousness of Shays — 
 Intention to Seize the Capital — Governor Bowdoin's De- 
 fenses. — General Lincoln in Command. — Active Move- 
 ment of His Troops. — A Terrible Snow-Storm. — Hard- 
 ships of Shays's Army. — Federal Bayonets Triumphant. 
 
 " Sirs, I shall sit here as a judse, or die here as a penerall"— Replt OF 
 General Cobb, a MaS8acuu»eits Jui^ge, to a Slmkohs to Diisolte 
 uis Court. 
 
 NE of the most noteworthy facts in the history 
 of the early period — the first decade — of the 
 American Republic, is, that in the state of Mas- 
 sachusetts, the state which had been foremost in 
 the war of independenre against Great Britain, 
 occurred the first instance of armed and organ- 
 scEXE IN SHAYS'S REBELLION. izpd rebellion against the situation and conduct 
 
 of public affairs consequent upon the changed character of the government and its 
 administrators. It will be necessary, however, not only in behalf of the consistency 
 of popular government, but as vindicating the patriotic old commonwealth in question 
 from any imputation of lawless proclivities, to narrate, first, some of the peculiar cir- 
 cumstances which brought distress to a large class of citizens, and provoked jjolitical 
 discontent, finally culminating in bloody sedition. 
 
 For a considerable period after the people of the United States had secured peace, 
 through British acknowledgment of their independence, was the exhausting effect felt 
 by them, of their exertions in so hard-fought and prolonged a contest. The popular 
 enthusiasm, excited by a victorious termination of the struggle, began to subside, and 
 the sacrifices of the revolution soon became known and felt. The claims of those who 
 toiled, and fought, and suffered in the arduous contest, were strongly urged, and the 
 government had neither resources nor power to satisfy or to silence them. The wealth 
 
126 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 of the country had been totally exhausted 
 during the revolution, and, worse than all, 
 the public credit had become so shaken 
 and prostrated as to be a mere by-word, 
 at home and abroad, no matter what might 
 be the pledges of security proffered. Taxes 
 could not be collected, because — even if for 
 no other reason, — there was no money to 
 represent the value of the little personal 
 property which had not been, and the land 
 which could not be, destroyed; and com- 
 merce, though preparing to burst from its 
 thraldom, had not yet had time to restore 
 to the annual produce of the country its ex- 
 changeable value. The states owed each a 
 heavy debt for local services rendered 
 during the revolution, for which it was 
 bound to provide, and each had its own 
 domestic government to support. 
 
 The causes of discontent which thus ex- 
 isted after the restoration of peace, in 
 every part of the Union, were perhaps no- 
 where more operative than in New En- 
 gland, growing out of the following circum- 
 stances : The great exertions which had 
 been put forth by those states in the course 
 of the war, had accumulated a mass of 
 debt, the taxes for the payment of which 
 were felt as peculiarly burdensome, be- 
 cause the fisheries of this j^eople had be- 
 come so iHiproductive. This important 
 branch of industry, which, before the revo- 
 lutionary war, had in some measure com- 
 pensated for the want of those rich staples 
 that were possessed by the middle and 
 southern colonies, liad been unavoidably 
 neglected during the struggle for inde- 
 pendence ; and, as a consequence of that 
 independence, had not only been deprived 
 of the encouragements under which it had 
 flourished, but its produce was excluded 
 from markets which had formerly been 
 opened to it. The restlessness produced 
 by the uneasy situation of individuals, to- 
 gether with lax notions concerning public 
 and private faith, and erroneous 02:)inions, 
 tended to confound liberty with an exemp- 
 tion from legal control. 
 
 This turbulent spirit was carried out 
 and encouraged, with great effect upon the 
 minds of the populace, by public conven- 
 
 tions, which, after voting their own con- 
 stitutionality, and assuming the name and 
 authority of the people, arrayed themselves 
 against the regular legislative power, and 
 declared in the most exciting language the 
 grievances by which they alleged them- 
 selves to be oppressed. 
 
 Reckless and desperate, a body of mal- 
 contents entered the legislative chamber 
 at Exeter, New Hampshire, and deliber- 
 ately overpowered and made prisoners the 
 general assembly of the state ; the citizens, 
 however, rose and crushed the movement 
 in a few hours. 
 
 But the center of this spirit of lawless 
 violence throughout New England, culmin- 
 ated in 1786, in the state of Massachu- 
 setts, where, on account of the calamitous 
 interruption of the regular trades and oc- 
 cupations, on land and sea, a vast number 
 of the male population, principally young 
 men, became impoverished, and were 
 thrown upon society. The general court, 
 or legislature, of Massachusetts, had found 
 it necessary to impose taxes which, perhaps, 
 in any case would have been ill-received, 
 but which, in the existing state of feeling 
 and social disorganization, led to general 
 resistance and open rebellion. The dis- 
 contented, led on by ambitious and un- 
 principled leaders, provided themselves 
 with arms of every description ; they had 
 seen the country free itself from the tyr- 
 anny of Britain by these means, and now 
 they were about to try the same against 
 what they considered the tyrann}^ of their 
 own government. Things continued to go 
 on in this way for some time, when, the 
 number of the malcontents becoming so 
 large and formidable, the militia were 
 called out to protect the sittings of the 
 courts, which it was the object of the in- 
 surgents to prevent ; and so conciliatory 
 and considerate was the government, that 
 their grievances were made the subject of 
 repeated and anxious counsel, and as much 
 as possible redressed. Bills were passed 
 for diminishing legal costs, law charges 
 being at that time enormous ; and for al- 
 lowing the payment of taxes and private 
 debts in specific articles instead of coin. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORAIiLE EVENTS. 
 
 127 
 
 of which latter there was scarce- 
 ly any in circulation ; as well as 
 for applj'ing certain revenues, 
 formerly devoted to other pur- 
 poses, to the payment of govern- 
 mental dues. So far were con- "''' 
 cessions made ; still the agitation contin- 
 ued, and the habeas corpus act was sus- 
 pended for eight months. Nevertheless, 
 though every preparation was thus made to 
 secure protection to the government, full 
 pardon for past offenses was promised to 
 all, if they would cease from their illegal 
 agitations. 
 
 Doubtless, but for the daring and des- 
 peration of one man, Daniel Shays, order 
 would have been restored. 
 
 Great anxiety filled the minds of the 
 patriotic statesmen throughout the coun- 
 try, at this state of anarchy ; and from 
 the bosom of Washington, in especial, 
 there went forth utterances of profound 
 indignation and alarm. "For God's sake 
 tell me," said he in a letter to Colonel 
 Humphrej-s, " what is the cause of all 
 these commotions ? do they proceed from 
 licentiousness, British influence dissemin- 
 ated by the tories, or real grievances 
 which admit of redress ? if the latter, why 
 was redress delayed until the public mind 
 had become so much agitated ? if the 
 
 former, 
 are 
 
 powers 
 government 
 triedatonce? 
 it is as well 
 to be with- 
 out as not to SHATS'.S forces in MASSACHUSETTS. 
 
 exercise them. Commotions of this sort, 
 like snowballs, gather strength as they 
 roll, if there is no opposition in the way to 
 divide and crumble them." Such was 
 Washington's horror of this Massachusetts 
 tumult. 
 
 Colonel Humphreys, while acknowledg- 
 ing his inabilit}' to give any adequate ex- 
 planation of the cause and origin of the 
 difliculties, yet gave it as his opinion that 
 they were attributable to all the three 
 causes which AVashington had suggested 
 — that, in Massachusetts particular!}-, 
 there were a few real grievances, and also 
 some wicked agents or emissaries who 
 made it their business to magnify every 
 existing evil, and to foment causeless jeal- 
 
128 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ousies and commotions. Under the influ- 
 ence of sucli examples, it was plain to see 
 that there had become prevalent among 
 many of the people a licentious spirit, a 
 leveling principle, a desire of change, and 
 a wish to annihilate all debts, both public 
 and private. 
 
 The force of this party throughout New 
 England was computed at twelve or fifteen 
 thousand men, chiefly of the young and 
 active part of the community, who were 
 more easily collected than kept together. 
 Many of these were desperate and unprin- 
 cipled, opposed to all good government and 
 legal discipline, and consequently ready, 
 when any demagogue should light the 
 spark of violence, to commit overt acts of 
 treason and bring on a bloody civil war. 
 This state of things alarmed greatly the 
 friends of law and order, and made them 
 firm in the conviction that there needed to 
 be established, above all things, a govern- 
 
 ment for the people of tlio United States, 
 Avliicli should have the power to protect 
 them in their lawful pursuits, and which 
 would be efficient in cases of internal 
 commotions, or foreign invasions, — a gov- 
 ernment resting upon liberty, and regu- 
 lated by laws firmly administered. 
 
 The mob spirit grew more and more 
 rampant in Massachusetts, and, in spite 
 of the vigilance which the authorities now 
 put forth, generally succeeded in its demon- 
 strations of violence, and in thwarting the 
 plans of that faithful and energetic chief 
 magistrate, Governor Bowdoin. In one 
 
 instance, however, at least, their proceed- 
 ings in this respect were summarily 
 brought to a stand. This was in the town 
 of Taunton, where Judge Cobb, formerly 
 an officer under Washington, and still one 
 of the state-militia generals, was holding 
 a court session at the time. On the ar- 
 rival of the insurgents at the court-house, 
 General Cobb promptly confronted them, 
 and, after exhorting them to render that 
 obedience to the laws which is binding 
 on every citizen, emphatically declared to 
 them, " Sirs ! I shall sit here as a judge, 
 or die here as a rjeneral! " Knowing him 
 to be a man who knew his rights and 
 would maintain them at any cost, the mob, 
 though more numerous than the force that 
 General Cobb could summon, concluded 
 that the safest course for them to pursue 
 was to disperse. 
 
 Ostensibly on account of the danger 
 which threatened the frontiers, but really, 
 it would seem, with a view to the sit- 
 uation of affairs in Massachusetts, 
 congress had agreed to augment the 
 military establishment to a much 
 larger and more effective standard, 
 and had detached the secretary of 
 war. General Knox, to the eastward, 
 with directions to concert measures 
 with the government of the state for 
 the safety of the public arsenals. So 
 unfavorable, indeed, was the aspect of 
 affairs, that fears Avere seriously en- 
 * tertained that the torch of civil dis- 
 cord, about to be lighted up in Massa- 
 chusetts, would communicate its flame 
 to all New England, and perhaps spread 
 the conflagration throughout the Union. 
 
 A few of the agitators having, at length, 
 been seized and lodged in Boston jail, — 
 the details of which will be found more 
 particularly narrated on a subsequent page, 
 — the exasperation of their associates was 
 greatly increased, and in a short time they 
 organized themselves as an armed force, 
 under the command of Daniel Shays, Luke 
 jDay, and Eli Parsons ; but some little 
 time elapsed before the state was fully 
 prepared to show its military power, 
 though the riotous interference with the 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 129 
 
 courts of justice was repeatedly enacted. 
 In the account of tliese proceedings given 
 by that excellent and most reliable histo- 
 rian, Mr. Lossing, it is stated that, while 
 the legislature was in session, early in 
 November, there were indications that an 
 attempt would be made to interfere with 
 tlie sittings of the supreme court about to 
 be held in Middlesex county. General 
 Brooks, a gallant officer of the revolution, 
 in command of the militia of that district, 
 was ordered to have a strong force in 
 readiness to march to Cambridge if neces- 
 sary. Among those summoned, and held 
 in readiness, were three regiments and 
 four artillery companies of Middlesex 
 county, and one company of infantry and 
 one of artillery, in Boston. Tliis formida- 
 ble display made the jMidJlesex malcon- 
 tents invisible and silent at that time. 
 Brooks was a fine officer, and had showed 
 himself a gallant adherent of the com- 
 mander-in-chief during the conspiracy or 
 mutiny which took place in Newburgh 
 camp at the close of the revolutionary war. 
 Washington requested him to keep his 
 officers within quarters, that they might 
 not attend the insurgent meeting, his reply 
 was — 
 
 "Sir, I have anticipated your wishes, 
 and my orders are given." 
 
 " Colonel Brooks, this is just what I ex- 
 pected from 3'ou," was the reply of the 
 chieftain, as he took the gallant colonel by 
 the hand. 
 
 The legislature adjourned after a session 
 of six weeks. Their dispersion was the 
 signal for greater activitj^ on the part of 
 the insurgents. They held several meet- 
 ings in the western counties, and severel}"^ 
 censured the measures recently adopted by 
 the legislature. They resolved, by acclam- 
 ation, to resist the execution of the laws 
 of the state ; and everywhere, among un- 
 principled men, the most lawless and 
 alarming spirit was manifested. The len- 
 iency of the governor was called cowardice. 
 The acts of the legislature were denounced 
 as instruments of tyranny. The people 
 were excited by inflammatory appeals. 
 They were incited to acts of violence, and 
 
 the courts of justice were again interfered 
 with. Toward the close of November, the 
 sitting of the general court of sessions at 
 Worcester was prevented by an armed 
 mob, who, taught by demagogues, and be- 
 lieving that they owed no other obedience 
 to government but in so far as tliej' might 
 approve its measures, declared that they 
 had the right, if they chose, to dispense 
 with all laws which were obnoxious to 
 them, and that they intended to set tlie 
 state authorities at defiance. In Hamp- 
 shire and Middlesex counties, similar bold 
 demonstrations were made. Governor 
 Bowdoin perceived that the time for ar- 
 gument and persuasion was at an end, and 
 that the safety of the commonwealth, now 
 really in danger, must be secured by ener- 
 getic measures. He accordingly issued a 
 general order for the major-generals 
 throughout the state to see that the mili- 
 tia, under their respective commands, were 
 equipped, and ready to respond to an_y 
 sudden demand for their services. This 
 order inflamed the leaders of the malcon- 
 tents and their deluded followers, and the 
 insurrection now began to assume the 
 alarming form of a rebellion. The leaders, 
 expecting severe punishment in the event 
 of failure, became desperate, and were 
 ready to employ desperate measures iot 
 the accomplishment of their wicked 
 scheme- They also lioped to secure a suf- 
 ficient number of adherents or defenders 
 to procure the governor's pardon in the 
 event of their failure. They were doomed 
 to be disajipointed. 
 
 In December, a large number of the in- 
 surgents assembled at Concord, expecting 
 to be joined by others from Bristol, Wor- 
 cester, and Hampshire counties. Their 
 object was to prevent the sitting of the 
 court at Cambridge, the dictation of meas- 
 ures to the governor, and the suspen- 
 sion, for a time at least, of the usual proc- 
 esses of law. It is evident, that, while 
 these objects were acknowledged, they in- 
 tended, if possible, to seize the capital, 
 take possession of the archives, and pro- 
 claim a provisional government. But the 
 project failed, and three of the leading 
 
130 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 traitors of ^Middlesex soon found them- 
 selves within the walls of a Boston jail. 
 The sheriff, in the execution of his Avar- 
 rant for their arrest, was accompanied by 
 a number of influential gentlemen and a 
 company of Boston cavalry, who volun- 
 teered their services. 
 
 Shays and his followers, desperate but 
 determined, — for success or utter ruin Avas 
 the alternative presented, — turned their 
 faces westward, and marched upon Spring- 
 field for tlie purpose of interfering with 
 the sitting of the court appointed for the 
 twenty-sixth of December, and, if strong 
 enough, to seize the continental arsenal at 
 tliat place. They arrived there on the 
 twenty-fifth, took possession of tlie court- 
 house, and presented to the judges a writ- 
 ten declaration that the court should not 
 transact business. The powerless judges 
 were compelled to submit. 
 
 Finding that the lenient measures which 
 liad tlnis far been taken by the legislature 
 to subdue tlie violence of the insurgents 
 only enlarged their demands, — that the 
 pardon proffered to those who would re- 
 turn to their duty was rejected with scorn, 
 — tliat the conciliating efforts of govern- 
 ment only increased their audacity, — and 
 that they Avere proceeding with more and 
 more energy to marshal their military 
 forces for an aggi > 've movement, — Gov- 
 ernor Bowdoin, ^\llc '^ad probably been 
 restrained by the temp \ of the house of 
 representatives from an earlier resort to 
 the final extremity, at length determined, 
 witli the advice of council, on a vigorous 
 exertion of all the powers he possessed, 
 for the protection and defense of the com- 
 monwealth. Upwards of four thousand 
 militia Avere ordered into service, and Avere 
 placed under tlie command of the veteran 
 General Lincoln, Avhose gallant military 
 reputation, and well-balanced judgment, 
 rendered him doubly capacitated for so 
 critical and important a trust. 
 
 It Avas in the depth of an unusually se- 
 vere winter, and Avhich caused bitter suf- 
 fering, that the troops thus raised in the 
 eastern part of the state assembled near 
 Boston, and marched towards the scene of 
 
 action. Those from the western counties 
 met in arms under General Shepard, an 
 officer who had served Avith honor during 
 the Avar of the rcAolution, and took close 
 possession of the federal arsenal at Spring- 
 
 r^^^2^^^^ 
 
 y 
 
 field. Before the arrival of Lincoln, a party 
 of the insurgents presented themselves 
 before the arsenal and demanded its sur- 
 render. Attempting to carry out their 
 demand, General Shejjard, after warning 
 and entreating them to retire, fired upon 
 them. The first discharge Avas over their 
 heads ; they took no notice of it. Tlie sec- 
 ond was into the ranks ; a cry of " Mur- 
 der ! " arose, and all fled in confusion, 
 leaving three men dead on the field and 
 one Avounded. Urging his march Avith the 
 utmost celerity, Lincoln soon came up, and 
 pressing the insurgent army, endeavored 
 by a succession of rapid moA'ements, in 
 which the ardor of his troops triumphed 
 over the extreme severity of the season, to 
 disperse or bring it to action. But the 
 insurgents fled to Pelham, Avhere they 
 posted themselves upon tAvo hills, rendered 
 almost inaccessible by the great fall of 
 snow. Tliey used all their address to pro- 
 duce a suspension of hostilities until an 
 ac(;ommodation might be negotiated Avith 
 the legislature, — believing, as they did, 
 that, if they could keep up their influence 
 until another choice of legislature and gov- 
 ernor came around, matters might be 
 molded to their liking. Shays now of- 
 fered to lay down his arms on condition of 
 general pardon, which Lincoln, however, 
 Avas not empoAvered to grant. At length, 
 
 I 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 131 
 
 sorely pressed for food, a sudden retreat 
 was made to Petersham. Discovering 
 this, Lincoln set off at six in the evening, 
 and marching all night, forty miles, 
 through intense cold and a di'iving storm, 
 
 reached Petersham by daybreak, to the 
 astonishment of the rebels, who liad not 
 the least idea of this movement, and ac- 
 cordingly tied ill dismay or were iiAav 
 prisoners. 
 
X. 
 
 FORMATION AND ADOPTION OF THE FEDERAL CONSTI- 
 TUTION.— 178 T. 
 
 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 Ciiaracter 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. — llatiflcation by the States — Na- 
 tional Joy at the Decision. 
 
 ■■ Should the states reject this excellent Constitution, the probability is that an opportunity will never ag:nin be offered to cancel another in 
 peace— the next will be drawn in blood."— Remaisk of Wasiii.noton on Sio.vixo tue Constitutios. 
 
 ENROLLING THE CONSTITUTION. 
 
 ^ HOUGH the close of the 
 war of independence 
 resulted in the establish- 
 ment of a free national- 
 ity, it nevertheless 
 brought anxious solici- 
 , V-s, tude to every patriot's 
 ^%W mind, and this state of 
 "' ~^ apprehension and disqui- 
 
 etude increased with each 
 succeeding j'ear. Tlie 
 state debts which had 
 been incurred in anticipation of prosperous times, operated severely, after a while, on 
 all cla.sses in the community; to meet the payment of these debts, at maturity, was 
 impossible, and every relief-act only a<lded to the difficulty. This, and kindred 
 troubles, financial and governmental, impressed the people with tlie 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 jrawor, 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 
 witli tlir 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- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 133 
 
 tity of talent and information necessary in 
 the formation period of a new republic 
 had greatly increased in tlie various states. 
 l>ut, in especial, the great minds that 
 achieved the revolution bi'held with deep 
 concern their coiintry 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 
 througliout all lands, and its iuq)ortance 
 reach forward to the setting of the sun of 
 time. The same hall which had resounded 
 with words of patriotic defiance that shook 
 the throne of King George and proclaimed 
 to an astonished world tlie Declaration of 
 Independence, — that same hall in whicli 
 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 
 lofty 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 everything which could be subserv- 
 ient to this project. His influence, and 
 the real importance pf the design, induced 
 the legislatures of Virginia and Maryland 
 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 fiive 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 IMay, 1787. Con- 
 gress responded to this proceeding in Feb- 
 ruary, by the passage of resolutions rec- 
 ommending the proposed measure, — but of 
 which, perhaps, 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 fift}-- 
 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 WasJiing- 
 ton, intrusted by the commonwealth of 
 A'irginia 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 Ruf us 
 King, from Massachusetts, j'oung in j-ears, 
 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 ISIassachusetts, exhibiting 
 the utmost zeal and fidelity in the per- 
 formance of his official duties; Caleb 
 Strong, from the same state, plain in lii-^ 
 
134 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187G. 
 
 CONVENTION AT THI I.ADELPHIA, 1787. 
 
 appearance, but calm, firm, intelligent, and 
 well-balanced ; Ellsworth, from Connecti- 
 cut, elegant in liis manners, and distin- 
 guished for his energy of mind, clear 
 reasoning powers, and effective eloquence; 
 Sherman, his colleague, a statesman and 
 jurist Avhose 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, uncomi)romisingly 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 with much truth, that 'the 
 Americans owed, and still owe, as much 
 acknowledgment to the financial operations 
 of Robert Morris, as to the negotiations of 
 
 Benjamin Franklin, or even to the arms 
 of George AVashington ; ' Gouverneur 
 INIorris, 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 ; 
 Mifiiin, 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 jiatriot, 
 who, though the only member of the con- 
 tinental congress ojiposed to the Declara- 
 tion of Independence, on the ground of its 
 being premature, was nevertheless the only 
 member of that bod}^ Avho immediately 
 shouldered his musket and went forth to 
 face the enemy ; Wythe, from Virginia, 
 wise, grave, deeply versed in the law, and 
 undaunted in the defense of liberty for the 
 the people; IMadison, also from Virginia, 
 talented, thoughtful, penetrating, one of 
 the brightest ornaments of his state and 
 nation; Martin, from jMaryland, a jurist 
 
GilEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 135 
 
 of vast attainments and commanding 
 powers; Davie, from North Carolina, of 
 splendid pbytsitpie, one of the master-minds 
 of the country ; Kutledge, from South Car- 
 olina, pronounced by Washington to be 
 the finest orator in the continental con- 
 gi-e>s; Pinckney, from the same state, 
 a soldier and lawyer of unrivaled abili- 
 ties; — and thus the record might go on, 
 until it embraced all the names of this 
 eminent assemblage of America's nrblest 
 patriots and most illustrious historic char- 
 acters, " all, all, honorable men." 
 
 On proceeding with the organization of 
 the convention, George Washington was 
 nominated by Hobert Morris to preside 
 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 j^ermission. And 
 in this connection, the following little epi- 
 sode, which has come to light, Avill 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, however, that 
 one of the delegates unfortunately lost his 
 copy of this official schedule or orders of 
 the day. General Mitflin, one of the del- 
 egates from Pennsylvania, by 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 otiicer, 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 body has been so 
 neglectful of the secrets of this convention, 
 as to drop in the state house a copy 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 j)ublic 
 repose by premature sjieculations. 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 bod}^ 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 
 comjDact or system of government must be 
 swept away. The question, liowever, as to 
 what should be substituted in its place, was 
 one of extreme difficulty. Mr. Eandolj)h, 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 embodying the sub- 
 stance of a plan of government — the same, 
 in character, as that contained in letters 
 written by Mr. 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 b}' the 
 people of the several states, aud 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 
 
136 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 i)roportioned 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- 
 
 A good degree of favor was shown to 
 Mr. Randolph'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 days, angry debates occurred 
 which, but for the timehj and healing 
 wisdom of Dr. Franklin, the Mentor of 
 the convention, Avould 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 
 
 said. 
 
 among 
 
 FllAMiLIN PLEADING 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 legi.slature before a negative thereon 
 should be final; provision to be made for 
 the admission of new states to the Union ; 
 a repulilican 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. 
 
 impressive manner, 
 other things : 
 
 ''It is to be feared that the mem- 
 bers of this convention are not in a 
 temj^er, at this moment, to approach 
 the subject on which we dii^er, 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 days, in order to let 
 the preseiit 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 old ojiinions, but that they mix 
 with members of opposite senti- 
 ments, lend a patient ear to their reason- 
 ings, and candidly allow them all the 
 weight to which they may be entitled; 
 and when we assemble again, I hope it will 
 be Avith a determination to form a consti- 
 tution; if not such an one as we can indi- 
 vidually, and in all respects, approve, yet 
 the best which, under existing circum- 
 stances, can be obtained." (Here the 
 countenance of Washington brightened, 
 and a cheering ray seemed to break in 
 upon the gloom of the assembly.) The 
 doctor continued : 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 137 
 
 "Before I sit down, IMr. President, I 
 will suggest another matter; and I am 
 really surprised that it has not been pro- 
 posed by some other member, at an earlier 
 period of our deliberations. I will sug- 
 gest, Mr. President, the propriety of nom- 
 inating and appointing, before we separate, 
 a chaplain to this convention, whose duty 
 it shall be uniformly to assemble with us, 
 and introduce the business of each day by 
 imploring the assistance of Heaven, and 
 its blessing upon our deliberations." 
 
 The doctor sat down, and never did a 
 countenance appear at once so dignified 
 and so delighted as that of Washington, 
 at the close of this address. The motion 
 for appointing a chaplain was instantly 
 seconded and carried. The convention 
 also chose a committee, by ballot, consist- 
 ing of one from each state, to sit during the 
 recess, and then adjourned for three days. 
 
 The three days were spent in the 
 manner advised by Doctor Franklin. On 
 re-assembling, the chaplain appeared and 
 led the devotions of the assembly, and the 
 minutes of the last sitting were read. All 
 eyes were now turned to the venerable 
 doctor. He rose, and in a few words 
 stated, that during the recess he had list- 
 ened attentively to all the arguments, pro 
 and con, which had been urged by both 
 sides of the house; that he had himself 
 said much, and thought moi'e, on the sub- 
 ject ; he saw difficulties and objections, 
 which might be urged by individual states, 
 against every scheme which had been pro- 
 posed ; and he was now, more than ever, 
 convinced that the constitution which they 
 were about to form, in order to be just and 
 equal, must be formed on the basis of 
 compromise and mutual concession. With 
 such views and feelings, he would now 
 move a reconsideration of the vote last 
 taken on the organization of the senate. 
 The motion was seconded, the vote carried, 
 the former vote rescinded, and by a suc- 
 cessive motion and resolution, the senate 
 was organized on the present plan. 
 
 On the seventeenth of September, the 
 final debate closed, the last amendment was 
 adopted, and the result of the convention's 
 
 labors was the formation of a constitution 
 establishing a national government on the 
 following prescribed princii)les : That the 
 affairs of the people of the United States 
 were thenceforth to be administered, not 
 by a confederacy, or mere league of friend- 
 ship between the sovereign states, but by 
 a government, distributed into the three 
 great departments — legislative, judicial, 
 and executive ; that the powers of govern- 
 ment should be limited to concerns per- 
 taining to the whole people, leaving the 
 internal administration of each state, in 
 time of peace, to its own constitution and 
 laws, provided that they should be repub- 
 lican, and interfering with them as little 
 as possible in case of war; that the legis- 
 lative power of this government should be 
 divided between the two assemblies, one 
 representing directly the people of the 
 separate states, and the other their legisla- 
 tures ; that the executive power of this 
 government should be vested in one person 
 chosen for four j-ears, with certain quali- 
 fications of age and nativity, and invested 
 with a qualified negative upon the enact- 
 ment of the laws; and that the judicial 
 power should consist of tribunals inferior 
 and supreme, to be instituted and organ- 
 ized by congress, the judges removable 
 only by impeachment. 
 
 Thus, finally amended, the constitution 
 was signed b}' all the members present, 
 except by Messrs. Randolph and Mason, of 
 Virginia, and Gerry, of IVIassachusetts. 
 The scene is described as one of historic 
 solemnity, rising almost to the sublime. 
 When Washington, whose turn came first, 
 was about to sign the instrument ordained 
 to be henceforth — if ratified hy the several 
 states — the palladium of his country's na- 
 tional existence, and the formation of 
 which he had watched over with such 
 anxious solicitude, he rose from his seat, 
 and holding the pen in his hand, after a 
 short pause, pronounced these words : 
 
 " Sliould the states reject this excellent 
 Constitution, the prohahilitij is that an op- 
 portunity ivill never arjain be offered to 
 cancel another in peace — tliC next will be 
 drawn in blood." 
 
138 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 And Avhen, following the exami^le of 
 their illustrious leader, the other members 
 of the convention appended their signa.- 
 tures, Doctor Franklin, with his eye tixed 
 upon the presiding officer's seat, in the 
 rear of which was the picture of a halo or 
 sun, made the characteristic remark: 
 
 " I have often and often, in the course 
 of tlie session, and in tJie vicissitudes of 
 my hopes and fears as to its issue, looked 
 at tliat sun behind the president, without 
 being able to tell whether it was rising or 
 sinking; at length I have the hajjpiness 
 to know it is a rising and not a setting 
 sun." 
 
 The convention, however, which framed 
 the constitution, was not clothed with leg- 
 islative power, nor was the congi'ess of the 
 confederation competent to accept it or 
 reject the new form of government. It 
 was referred by them to the several states, 
 
 represented by conventions of ihe people; 
 and it was provided in the instrument it- 
 self, that it should become the supreme 
 law of the land, when adopted by nine 
 states. It was not till the summer of 
 1788 that the ratification of nine states 
 was obtained, beginning with Delaware, 
 some by large, and some by very small 
 majorities. The violence of the opposition 
 party was in some sections very great, re- 
 sulting, in New York, in tumultuous riots. 
 Of the thirteen original states, Rhode 
 Island was the last to accept the constitu- 
 tion, which she did in May, 1790. 
 
 The 3-ear of suspense, while the Ameri- 
 can people were debating the great question 
 whether to accept or reject the constitu- 
 tion offered them by Washington and his 
 associate compatriots, was, on the an- 
 nouncement of the result; succeeded by a 
 national jubilee. 
 
XI. 
 
 FIRST ELECTION AND INAUGURATION OF A PRESIDENT 
 
 OF THE UNITED STATES.— 1789. 
 
 Washington, " First in War, First in Peace, and First in tlie Hearts of his Countrymen/' the Nation's 
 Spontaneous, Unanimous Choice — His Triumphal Progress from Home, anil Solemn Induction into 
 Office — Jubilee tlirougliout tiie Republic, over the August Event. — Auspicious Commencement of 
 the National Executive Government — Meqiiirements of the Constitution — A I'lesident to be Chosen. 
 — Four Years the Term of Service — All Eyes Fixed Upon Washington. — His Reluctance to Accept. 
 — Reasons Given for this Course — Urgent Appeals to Him. — The Result of the Election — One 
 Voice and One Mind — He Bows to the People's Will — Joy Produced by His Decision. — Departs at 
 Once from Mount Vernon. — Farewell Visits to His Mother. — Inauguration Appointed for .March 
 Fourth. — Postponement to April Thirtieth. — Order of Ceremonies — New Spectacle in the Western 
 World. — Distinguished Celebrities Present — Washington's Elegant A|)pearance. — Dignity when 
 Taking the Oath. — Reverentially Kisses the Bible. — Curious Customs Initiated. 
 
 " Whore shall the eye rest, weary of gazing on the great, 
 where find a glory that is not criminal a pomp that is not con- 
 tcinptihle? Yes, there is a man, the first, the Inst, the best of 
 all, the Cincinnatus <»f tlie West, whom envy itself does not 
 hate. The name of Washington is bequeathed to us to make 
 liurnanity blush that such a man is alone in history "—LoKD 
 
 liVKO.V. 
 
 CCORDIXG to the terms of the new 
 federal constitution, whicli had now 
 been assented to and ratified by the 
 wASHixGTox's INAUGURATION BIBLE. requisitc number of states, a President 
 
 of the United States was required to be elected for a term of four years ; and, amidst 
 all the discordances of political opinion respecting the merits of the constitution itself, 
 there was but one sentiment tlirougliout the country as to the man who should admin- 
 ister the affairs of the government. AU eyes were directed to Washington, and at an 
 early period his correspondents endeavored to prepare his mind to gratify the expecta- 
 tions of the people. Mr. Johnson, a distinguished patriot of Marj'land, wrote him, 
 "We can not do without you." Indeed, he alone was believed to fill so pre-eminent a 
 place in the public esteem, that he might be called to the head of the nation without 
 exciting envy; and he alone possessed in so unlimited a degree the confidence of the 
 masses, that, under his auspices, the friends of tl;e new political system might hope to 
 see it introduced with a degree of firmness which would enable it to resist the open 
 assaults and secret plots of its many enemies. 
 
 By almost all who were on terms of intimacy with Washington, fears were enter- 
 tained that his earnest desire for private life and the improvement of his vast and long- 
 neglected plantations, would prevail over the wishes of the public, — an acquiescence 
 in which wishes was believed to be absolutely essential to the completion of that great 
 work, the Constitution, on which the grandeur and happiness of America was deemed to 
 
140 
 
 OUll FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 depend. The struggle, on his part, be- 
 tween inclination and dut}', was long and 
 severe, as is evident by the letters which he 
 wrote on the subject, in response to the ap- 
 peals and importunities constantly made by 
 his friends. Colonel Lee, then a distin- 
 guished member of congress, communicat- 
 ing^ to Washin2;ton tlie measures which that 
 body were adopting to introduce the govern- 
 ment just ordained, thus alludes to the 
 presidency : " Without you, the govern- 
 ment can have but little chance of success ; 
 and the people, of that happiness which 
 its prosperity must yield." So, also, Mr. 
 Gouverneur Morris, a patriot who had been 
 one of the most valuable members of con- 
 gress during a great part of the war, and 
 who had performed a splendid part in the 
 general convention, wrote : " I have ever 
 thought, and have ever said that you must 
 be the president ; no other man can fill 
 that office." The great Hamilton likewise 
 urged him to accept the office, and thus 
 yield to the general call of the country in 
 relation to its new and untried govern- 
 ment. '' You will permit me to say," 
 wrote Hamilton, " that it is indispensable 
 you should lend yourself to its first opera- 
 tions. It is to little purpose to have in- 
 troduced a system, if the weightiest influ- 
 ence is not given to its firm establishment 
 at tlie outset." Such arguments and en- 
 treaties as these poured in ujjon "Washing- 
 ton from all quarters of the broad land, 
 that he should consent to assume the pres- 
 idential chair. 
 
 ]5ut the election had taken place, in 
 obedience to the fundamental law; and at 
 length, the votes for the president and 
 vice-president of the United States were, 
 as i)rescribed in the constitution, opened 
 and counted in tlie senate. The result 
 showed, that neither the animosity of par- 
 ties, nor the activity of the enemies of the 
 newly-formed government, could deprive 
 General Wasliington of a single vote in 
 the electoral college. I'y the voluntary 
 and spontaneous voice of a great people, 
 he was called to the chief magistracy of 
 the nation. Tlie second number of votes 
 was given to ]\[r. John Adams, of IMassa- 
 
 chusetts. George Washington and John 
 Adams were therefore declared to be duly 
 elected president and vice-president of the 
 United States, to serve for four 3'ears from 
 the fourth of March, 1789. 
 
 At Mount Vernon, on the fourteenth of 
 April, 1789, the appointment of General 
 Washington as supreme executive of the 
 republic was officially announced to him. 
 This commission was performed by j\Ir. 
 Charles Thomson, secretary of the late 
 congress, who presented to him a certifi- 
 cate signed by John Langdon, president 
 X>ro tempore of the senate, stating that he 
 was unanimouslj' elected. 
 
 Accustomed to resj^ect the wishes of his 
 fellow-citizens, Washington did not think 
 himself at liberty to decline an office con- 
 ferred upon him by the unsought suffrage 
 of an eutire people. His acceptance of it, 
 and the expressions of gratitude he in- 
 dulged in for this fresh proof of the esteem 
 and confidence of his country, were min- 
 gled with declarations of extreme diffidence 
 in himself. '• I wish," lie said, " that there 
 may not be reason for regretting the 
 choice, for, indeed, all I can promise is, 
 to accomplish that which can be done by 
 an honest zeal." In this spirit of devoted 
 self-sacrifice, and realizing that the ur- 
 gency of public affairs must require the 
 immediate attendance of the president at 
 the seat of government, he liastened his 
 departure ; on the sixteenth of April, 
 therefore, — the second day after receiving 
 the certificate of his election, — he bade 
 adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, 
 and to domestic felicity, and, in company 
 with Mr. Thomson and Colonel Hum- 
 phreys, proceeded to New York, where 
 congress was then in session, to assume 
 the administration of the new government. 
 ])Ut, notwithstanding the weight of anxi- 
 ety upon his mind concerning the public 
 business, he did not omit to pa}^ a parting 
 visit to his venerable mother. Embracing 
 his mother, Washington bowed liis head 
 upon her shoulder and wept, murmuring 
 at the same time something of a hope that 
 they should meet again. "No, George," 
 she replied, " this is our last parting ; my 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 141 
 
 daj^s to come are few. But go, fulfill your 
 high duties, and may God bless and keep 
 you." She was then afflicted with a 
 
 town, where the whole population turned 
 out to do him honor. And thus it was, 
 that, notwitlistanding Washington wished 
 
 cancer, of which she died in her eighty- 
 second year. 
 
 Leaving Alexandria, he was accompa- 
 nied by a throng of citizens to George- 
 
 to make a private journey, his desire could 
 not be gratified. The public feelings were 
 too strong to be suppressed. Crowds 
 flocked around him enthusiastically wher- 
 
142 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ever he stopped ; and corps of militia, and 
 processions of citizens, attended him 
 through their respective states. At Phil- 
 adelpliia, lie was received hy a concourse 
 of tlie most distinguished personages of 
 the city and state, and followed hy thou- 
 sands of people to a grand banquet, jii-e- 
 pared for the occasion, where addresses 
 and sentiments were interchanged, while 
 the air was filled with the shouts of popu- 
 lar exultation, and Avith one universal 
 acclaim, invoking hlessings upon him. As 
 he crossed the Schuylkill, a civic crown of 
 laurel was, unperceived by him, let down 
 upon his head by a youth who was con- 
 cealed in the arch of evergreen which dec- 
 orated the bridge. At night, the Avhole 
 town was brilliantly illuminated, and all 
 classes and ages spontaneously united in 
 the happy festivities. 
 
 The next day, at Trenton, he was wel- 
 comed in a manner exceedingly novel and 
 touching. In addition to the usual dem- 
 onstrations of respect and attachment, 
 which were given by the discharge of 
 cannon, by military corps, and by private 
 persons of distinction, the gentler sex pre- 
 pared, in their own taste, a most unique 
 tribute of their regard, indicative of the 
 grateful recollection in which they held 
 their deliverance twelve years before from 
 an insulting enemy. On the bridge ex- 
 tending across the stream which passes 
 through the town, — the place where Wash- 
 ington, atone time, made so gallant a sur- 
 prise on the enemy of his country, and at 
 another, so important a stand, and a re- 
 treat worth more than a victory, — a tri- 
 umphal arch was erected, with evergreen 
 and floral adornments, and supported by 
 thirteen pillars similarly en wreathed. On 
 the front was inscribed, in large golden 
 letters: 'The Dkfkn-deu of the Moth- 
 
 EIIS WIM. I5E TFIE l^ROTRCTOIl OF THE 
 
 Dauohteus.' Over this, in the center of 
 the arch, above the inscription, was a 
 dome or cupola of evergreens and flowers 
 eiM-iivliiig tlir (l;,f,..s of two nKMuonibl,. 
 events, one <>i tlicse being tlie bold and 
 judicious stand made by the American 
 troops, by which the progress of the Brit- 
 
 ish army was arrested on the evening pre- 
 ceding the battle of Princeton ; the other 
 AA'as the date of Washington's glorious 
 A'ictory at Trenton, Avhen nine hundred 
 Hessians were made prisoners, and the 
 horizon of American affairs was illumined 
 by a radiance which never again Avholly 
 forsook it. On the summit of the arch a 
 large sun-flower, as always pointing to the 
 sun, Avas designed to express this motto, — 
 'To You Aloxe.' The ladies had ar- 
 ranged themselves on the side of the 
 street, betAveen the arch and the town, 
 Avith their daughters in front, to a Aery 
 considerable number, all dressed in Avhite, 
 and decorated A\ath floral Avreaths and 
 chaplets. Six of these held baskets of 
 flowers in their hands, and, as soon as the 
 general had passed under the arch, the 
 beautiful choristers adA'anced, singing a 
 sonnet composed for the occasion ; as the}^ 
 sung the last lines they strcAved the flowers 
 before the general. 
 
 At BrunsAvick, he was joined by Goa*- 
 ernor William Livingston, of Ncav Jersey, 
 Avho accompanied him to ElizabethtoAvn 
 Point. On the road, the committee of 
 congress received and attended him Avith 
 much military parade to the point Avhere 
 he was to embark for Ncav York. The 
 embarkation took place in a magnificently- 
 decorated barge, manned and rowed by 
 thirteen branch pilots, attired in Avhite. 
 There Avere also other barges, filled Avith 
 eminent dignitaries from all j^arts of the 
 land. 
 
 Arriving at Ncav York, the president 
 A\^s received by the governor of the state, 
 and by an immense concourse of citizens, 
 headed by the military. IMultitudes of his 
 old and faithful officers and felloAv-patriots 
 pressed around him to offer their congrat- 
 ulations, and to express the joy Avhich 
 glowed in their l)osoms at seeing the man 
 in Avhom all confided, at the head of the 
 nation's affairs. 
 
 Thus it appears that the president's first 
 arrival at the seat of gOA'ernment Avas a 
 national ovation Avhich shoAved, by its 
 spontaneousness, enthusiasm, and unanim- 
 ity, that all hearts and voices Avere united 
 
GREAT AND ^[EMORAP.LE EVENTS. 
 
 143 
 
 in liis favor. It was an occasion wliich 
 excited the groat heart of tlie peopU' l>e- 
 yoiul all jxiwia-s of descrijition ; the hand 
 of industry was suspended, and the xarimis 
 pleasures of the capital were centered in a 
 single and universal enjoyment. ]\Iany 
 aged patriots were heard to say that they 
 should now die contented, having had a 
 siglit of the Father of his Country. 
 
 PRESIDENTIAL MANSION, 1789. 
 
 The fourth of March was the day wliicli 
 had been a^ipointed for the new national 
 government to commence operations, but 
 so many impediments occurred that it was 
 not lentil the thirtieth of April that this 
 took place. 
 
 Vice-president Adams arrived in New 
 York, escorted by a troop of horse, on the 
 twenty-first of April, and, two days before 
 Washington's arrival, took his seat as the 
 constitutional presiding officer of the 
 senate. On doing this, he addressed that 
 body in a dignified speech adapted to the 
 occasion, and warmly eulogistic of the 
 new-born republic and its illustrious chief 
 magistrate. 
 
 On Thursday, the thirtieth of April, 
 1789, the ceremony of Inaugurating the 
 First President of the United States took 
 place in New York, which at that time 
 was the fedei'al capital. Long before the 
 hour arrived, the town swarmed with 
 people ; every tavern and boarding-house 
 was full, and private residences teemed 
 with guests and lodgers. Many persons 
 are said to have slept in tents on ' the 
 Common.' The Hudson was studded with 
 boats bearing visitors, and long caravans 
 of carts began to arrive before daybreak, 
 from Westchester, Long Island, and the 
 Jerseys. The ceremony of the day was 
 
 ushered in by a salute fired from the bat- 
 tery. This was about six o'clock in the 
 morning, and, even at this early hour, the 
 streets were fast filling up. At nine, the 
 ehui-cli hells rang out a ineriy peal ; at ten 
 they summoned the worshipers to church, 
 each pastor devoting the occasion to im- 
 [)l(n'ing Heaven's blessing upon the nation 
 and the first president. General Wash- 
 ington had now been in the city a week, 
 having arrived on the twenty-third. He 
 was living in a private house, the prop- 
 erty of Mr. Osgood, on the corner of 
 Cherry street and Franklin square; but 
 his household arrangements had not j'et 
 been [)erfected, as Mrs. Washington did 
 not arrive for some litile time, remaining 
 at Mount Vernon until affairs were in a 
 state of readiness for her presence at the 
 new presidential mansion. 
 
 At eight oclock, on this memorable 
 morning, the sky was overcast, and the 
 appearance was that of a gathering storm. 
 Everybody noticed, however, that the mo- 
 ment the bells began to ring the sky 
 cleared, and by the close ot divine service 
 the weather was serene and beautiful. At 
 noon, the procession that was to conduct 
 the president to Federal hall assembled 
 in due style opposite his residence in 
 Cherry street. There were the usual mil- 
 itary companies — a trooj) of horse, one or 
 two companies of grenadiers, a company of 
 Higlilanders, in kilts, — all the chief mu- 
 nicipal officers, the congressional commit- 
 
 i'iu:siui:xri.vL mansion, 1876. 
 
 tees, and the new cabinet, — multitudes of 
 distinguished citizens bringing up the 
 rear. By this assemblage the new presi- 
 dent was escorted to Federal hall, which 
 stood at the head of Broad street, in Wall, 
 
144 
 
 OUR FIllST CENTURY.— 177G-1S76. 
 
 where the custom-house was subsequently 
 built. The old building had been jiut in 
 repair at a considerable expense, but it 
 was still so rickety that cautious persons 
 looked forward to the ceremony with un- 
 easiness. The procession having arrived, 
 and the hall occupied according to the pro- 
 graming, nothing remained but to proceed 
 with the solemn formalities ; and, when it 
 is remembered that there was no precedent 
 in history for the inauguration of a repub- 
 lican president, one can not but admire the 
 striking dignity which characterized the 
 wlinle occasion. At the door of the senate 
 chamber, to which the eyes of the whole 
 vast multitude were intensely directed, the 
 vice-president met General Washington, 
 and with consummate but unaffected ease 
 and grace of manner said — 
 
 '' Sir, the senate and house of represent- 
 atives of the United States are ready to 
 attend, ijoii to take the oath required hy 
 the Constitution, xch'ich iclll be adminis- 
 tered to you hy the chancellor of the state 
 of l^eiu Yorlcy 
 
 ^^ I am ready to proceed,''^ was Washing- 
 ton's reply, made with his accustomed 
 elegant dignity. 
 
 The vice-president now led the way to 
 the outside giillery ; the president fol- 
 lowed, with as nv.iny of the high function- 
 aries as could iinil room, and all were pres- 
 ently gathered on the balcony fronting on 
 Wall street. Of the group, perhaps the 
 most striking person was Chancellor Liv- 
 ingston, in a full suit of black, and, like 
 Washington, one of the finest-looking men 
 anywhere to be seen. Secretary Otis car- 
 ried the Bible on a crimson cushion, and 
 near him were Generals Knox and St. 
 Clair, Roger Sherman, Hamilton, and 
 other noted persons of revolutionary fame. 
 At the projter moment, the chancellor ad- 
 ministered the oath, with great delibera- 
 tion and eiiii)hasis, to Washington, who, 
 bowing down, seized tlie book, kissed it, 
 and exclaimed, with closed eyes and much 
 emotion — 
 
 ^^ I swear, so help me God '.'''' 
 
 " It is dojif',^^ the chancellor declared^ 
 and, turning to the crowd exclaimed, 
 
 '•' Lony lire G orrje Washington, President 
 *' t'.e United States/'^ 
 
 This last-named declaration, on the part 
 of the chancellor, was in imitation of mo- 
 narchical custom. The error of this prac- 
 tice was, however, soon exposed and 
 abandoned; but at this time, the crowd 
 thought of nothing but the exciting solem- 
 nity of the scene, and many who demon- 
 stratively waved their hats were too 
 overcome by emotion to join in the huzzas. 
 
 Of course, Washington was the observed 
 of all observers in that mighty crowd, and 
 his grandly-commanding figure made this 
 both natural and easy, and so too did the 
 construction of the balcony, conspicuously 
 fronting the edifice, where the remarkable 
 ceremony was performed. He was dressed 
 in a complete suit of dark brown broad- 
 cloth, of American production, white silk 
 long stockings, silver shoe-bucldes upon 
 his polished shoes, a steel-hilted dress 
 sword, and his hair dressed and powdered 
 according to the style then in vogue, and 
 gathered up in a bag. This attire, it may 
 be remarked, was Washington's personal 
 choice. On the occasion of his second in- 
 auguration, however, Washington was 
 dressed precisely as Stuart has painted 
 him in Lord Lansdowne's full-length por- 
 trait — in a full suit of the richest black 
 velvet, with diamond knee-buckles, and 
 square silver buckles set upon shoes ja- 
 panned with the most scrupulous neatness, 
 black silk stockings, his shirt ruffled at the 
 breast and wrists, a light dress-sword; his 
 hair profusely powdered, fully dressed, so 
 as to project at the sides, and gathered be- 
 hind in a silk bag, ornamented with a 
 large rose of black ribbon. He held his 
 cocked hat, which had a large black cock- 
 ade on one side of it, in his hand, while 
 standing, but laid it on the table when he 
 sat down. 
 
 Washington, on taking the oath, as ad- 
 ministered by Chancellor Livingston, is 
 said to have laid his hand upon that page 
 of the Bible containing the fiftieth chapter 
 of Genesis, opposite to which were two 
 illustrations of the text, one being a pic- 
 ture of ' The Blessing of Zebulon,' and the 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 145 
 
 other of ' The Prophecy of Issachar.' That 
 memorable volume, of such peculiar his- 
 torical associations, now belongs to one of 
 the masonic lodges in New York. Upon 
 each of the two outside surfaces of the vol- 
 ume, there is engraved in golden letters a 
 commemorative record of the interesting 
 circumstances attaching to it ; and on the 
 inside, beautifully written upon parch- 
 ment, in ornamental style, surmounted by 
 an engraved portrait of Washington, is 
 the following statement : 
 
 ' On this Sacred Volume, on the 30th day 
 of April, 1789, in the city of New York, 
 was administered to George Washington 
 the first President of the United States of 
 America, the oath to support the Constitu- 
 tion of the United States. This imjiortant 
 ceremony was performed by the Most 
 Worshipful Grand Master of Free and 
 Accepted Masons of the state of New 
 York, the Honorable Robert R. Livings- 
 ton, Chancellor of the state.' 
 
 The inaugural address delivered by 
 Washington, and which, like all the early 
 inaugurals, possessed the merit of brevity, 
 was pronounced in the senate chamber. It 
 was considered, in those days, a speech to 
 congress and not to the people ; and both 
 houses felt it incumbent on them — follow- 
 ing the usage of monarchies, — to jjresent 
 replies to the president, at his residence. 
 
 Prom the senate chamber, the president 
 was escorted to St. Paul's church, where 
 he heard an appropriate religious service, 
 conducted by Dr. Prevost; and thence 
 home to his house. In the evening the 
 whole city was one blaze of illumination, 
 all classes participating in this attractive 
 
 feature of the general jubilee. Many of 
 the illuminations were very beautiful — 
 none more so than those of the French and 
 Spanish ministers, who both lived in 
 Broadway, near the Bowling Green ; and 
 the whole scene was unique, animated, and 
 enchanting. General Washington him- 
 self went ' down town,' that is to say, 
 toward the Battery, to see the spectacle, of 
 which he expressed the warmest admira- 
 tion ; returning about ten o'clock on foot, 
 the crowd being too dense for a carriage 
 to pass. 
 
 As the sujireme head of the nation. 
 President Washington at once endeavored 
 to acquaint himself fully with the state of 
 public affairs, and for this purpose, he 
 called upon those who had been the heads 
 of departments under the confederation, to 
 report to him the situation of their respec- 
 tive concerns. He also, having consulted 
 with his friends, adopted a system for the 
 order of his own household, for the regu- 
 lation of his hours of business, and of in- 
 tercourse with those who, in a formal 
 manner, visited him as the chief magis- 
 trate of the nation. But he publicly an- 
 nounced that neither visits of business nor 
 of ceremony would be expected on Sunday, 
 as he wished to reserve that day sacredly 
 to himself. One of the most important 
 and delicate of the president's duties was 
 to fill those dejDartments which congress at 
 an early day had established to aid the 
 executive in the administration of the 
 government. His judgment and prudence 
 were consistently exhibited in this resj^ect, 
 by his selecting such able men for his 
 cabinet. 
 
 10 
 
XII. 
 
 GREATEST DEFEAT AND YICTORY OF AMERIOAlSr ARMS 
 
 IN THE INDIAN WARS.— 1791. 
 
 Headlong Flight and Destruction of St. Clair's Army, in 1791, Before the Trained "Warriors of "Lit- 
 tle Turtle." — This Mortifying Disaster Retrieved by Wayne's Overwhelming Triumph in 1794. — Final 
 and Crushing Blow Dealt by Jackson, in 1814. — The Question of Power Between the Two Races For- 
 ever settled in Favor of the Whites. — Old Feuds Between the Races. — Ilarmer's Expedition to the 
 North-west. — Powerless in Ambush Warfare. — Repeated and Bloody Reverses. — St. Clair put in Com- 
 mand. — Warning Words of Washington. — Sudden Attack by the Miamis. — Terrible Slaughter of the 
 ■yiVhites. — Overthrow of the Whole Campaign. — Washington's Reception of the News. — Ilis Appall- 
 ing Wrath. — Sketch of St. Clair's Conqueror. — His Fame at Home and Abroad. — General Wayne 
 Sent to the Field. — Unsuccessfully Proffers Peace. — Instantly Prepares for Battle. — Great Army of 
 Indian Warriors — Their Sagacious Choice of Position. — Desperate Fury of the Conflict. — Wayne's 
 Prowess Irresistible. — Death Knell of the Savages. — Their Confederacy Shattered. 
 
 " Nothin;; but lamentable sounds was heard, 
 NoraUi;ht was «een but ^rhastly views of death, 
 Infeeiious horror ran from tace to face, 
 And pale despair." 
 
 LL historians agree in declaring that the 
 defeat of General St. Clair, in 1791, by 
 the Indians of the north-west territory, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 147 
 
 was the most signal and disastrous ever 
 sustained by the American army, in its 
 battles with the warriors of the forest. 
 
 On tlie otlier hand, this defeat — the 
 news of which fell like a thunderbolt upon 
 the then struggling and distracted govern- 
 ment, — was retrieved by a most complete 
 and decisive victory, under General 
 Wayne, over these same tribes, collected 
 together in a vast and powerful horde, at 
 the rapids of the Maumee, in 1794 ; a vic- 
 tory which, taken in connection with the 
 subsequent overwhelming triumph of Gen- 
 eral Jackson, in his campaign against the 
 Creeks, gave the finishing stroke to the 
 power of the Indian race in North Amer- 
 ica, — settling forever the long struggle 
 that had been carried on between the white 
 man and the red man, in favor of the 
 former, though the warlike propensities of 
 the savages occasionally broke out in sub- 
 sequent years, as in 1811, under Tecum- 
 seh ; the Creek war, of 1814, under 
 Weatherford ; the terrible Seminole cam- 
 paign ; the Cherokee contest ; the hostili- 
 ties of the Sacs, Foxes, and Winnebagoes, 
 under Black Hawk ; the renowned Flor- 
 ida war, of 1835, under Micanopy and Os- 
 ceola; etc. These later wars tasked, to 
 the utmost, the military skill of such 
 trained soldiers as Jackson, Harrison, 
 Worth, Harney, Jessup, Clinch, Thomp- 
 son, Dade, Atkinson, Gaines, Taylor. Red 
 Jacket, and Cornplanter, were prominent 
 chieftains in the wars of the Senecas. 
 
 In the month of September, 1790, Gen- 
 eral Harmer was intrusted with the import- 
 ant duty of looking after the fierce tribes 
 i.n the Miami and Wabash, between whom 
 and the Kentuckians there had long waged 
 a relentless Avar. The general went for- 
 ward with a body of three hundred and 
 twenty regulars, who, being re-enforced by 
 the militia of Pennsylvania and Kentucky, 
 formed a corps of one thousand four hun- 
 dred and fifty-three men. The Indians, 
 on his approach, set fire to their villages ; 
 but this was nothing, unless they could be 
 brought to an engagement. Harmer, 
 however, instead of advancing himself, 
 with the main body, sent forward Colonel 
 
 Hardin, with two hundred and ten men, 
 of whom only thirty were regulars. They 
 were attacked ; the militia fled ; the others 
 were nearly cut off. The general then 
 sent forward Hardin, with three hundred 
 men, who speedily encountered another 
 large body. After a brave contest, in 
 which this party lost nearly half their 
 number, they retreated on the main body. 
 Thus disaster followed disaster, and the 
 nation became sore and mortified under 
 such repeated humiliations. 
 
 One of the last measures, therefore, 
 adopted by the United States congress, 
 the ensuing year, 1791, was to augment 
 the national military force, to a suitable 
 degree of power, and to place in the hands 
 of President Washington more ample 
 means for the protection of the frontier, as 
 the Indians on the north-west side of the 
 Ohio still continued their hostilities. A 
 new expedition against the belligerent 
 tribes had, in consequence, been projected ; 
 and General St. Clair, then governor of 
 the territory west of the Ohio, was ap- 
 pointed commander of the forces to be em- 
 ployed. Washington had been deeply 
 chagrined by the mortifying disasters of 
 General Harmer's expedition to the Wa- 
 bash, resulting from Indian ambushes. 
 In taking leave, therefore, of his old mili- 
 tary comrade, St. Clair, he wished him 
 success and honor, and added this solemn 
 warning : 
 
 " You have your instructions from the 
 secretary of Avar. I had a strict eye to 
 them, and will add but one word, — Be- 
 ware of a surprise ! You know how the 
 Indians fight. I repeat it — Beware of a 
 surprise ! " 
 
 With these warning words sounding in 
 his ear, fresh with Washington's awful 
 emphasis, St. Clair departed. 
 
 On the fourth of November, while the 
 main body of St. Clair's army were en- 
 camped in two lines on rising ground, 
 some fifteen miles south of the Miami vil- 
 lages on one of the tributaries of the Wa- 
 bash, and the militia upon a high flat on 
 the other side of the stream, they were 
 surprised and terribly attacked by an In- 
 
148 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 dian force which lay concealed, in the 
 woods. General St. Clair, who was suffer- 
 ing severely from gout, was unable to 
 mount his horse, and had to be carried 
 about in a litter, from -vhich he gave his 
 orders with discretion and the most perfect 
 coolness. The battle raged fearfully for 
 nearly three hours, and after nearly half 
 of his army had been slaughtered, St. Clair 
 beat a headlong retreat. Thus were all 
 the plans, hopes and labors of President 
 Washington, congress, and the cabinet, in 
 reference to the Indian campaign, utterly 
 and deplorably overthrown in a single 
 day ! This result is stated to have arisen 
 thus : On the third of November, St. Clair 
 formed his force into two lines ; the first, 
 under the command of General Butler, 
 composed the right wing, and lay with a 
 creek immediately in their front. The 
 left wing, commanded by Colonel Darke, 
 formed the second, and lay with an inter- 
 val of about seventy yards between them 
 and the first line. The militia were ad- 
 vanced beyond the creek, about a quarter 
 of a mile in front. About half an hour 
 before sunrise the next morning, just after 
 the troops had been dismissed from the 
 parade, an unexpected attack was made 
 ujjon the militia, who fled in the utmost 
 confusion, and rushing into camp through 
 the first line of regular troops, which had 
 
 been formed the instant the first gun was 
 discharged, threw them too into disorder. 
 Such was the panic, and so rapid and irreg- 
 ular the flight, that the exertions of the 
 officers to recall the men to their senses 
 and to duty Avere quite unavailing. 
 
 It was soon perceived that the American 
 fire could produce, on a concealed enemy, 
 no considerable effect, and that the only 
 hoi^e of victory was in the bayonet. At 
 the head of the second regiment, which 
 formed the left of the left wing, Darke 
 made an impetuous charge upon the 
 enemy, forced them from their ground 
 with some loss, and drove them about four 
 hundred yards. He was followed by that 
 whole wing ; but the want of a sufficient 
 number of riflemen to press this advan- 
 tage, deprived him of its benefit, and, as 
 soon as he gave over the pursuit, the In- 
 dians renewed the attack. In the mean- 
 time. General Butler was mortally 
 
 WAYNE S DEFEAT OF THE INDLANS. 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 149 
 
 wounded, the left of tlie right wing was 
 broken, the artillerists almost to a man 
 killed, the guns seized, and the camp pen- 
 etrated by the enemy. Orders were given 
 to again charge with the bayonet; this 
 was done with spirit and momentary suc- 
 cess, the Indians being driven out of the 
 camp, and the artillery recovered. 
 
 To save the remnant of the army was 
 all that now remained to be done ; and, 
 about half-past nine in the morning. Gen- 
 eral St. Clair ordered Colonel Darke, with 
 the second regiment, to charge a body of 
 Indians who intercepted their retreat, and 
 to gain the road. Major Clarke, with his 
 battalion, was directed to cover the rear. 
 These orders were executed, and then a 
 disorderly flight commenced. The pursuit 
 was kept up about four miles, when, fortu- 
 nately for the surviving Americans, the 
 victorious savages, eager for plunder, 
 stopped at the camp of their vanquished 
 foes, to divide the spoils. The routed 
 troops continued their flight to Fort Jef- 
 ferson — some thirty miles, — throwing 
 away their arms along the road. At this 
 place they met the detached regiment, and 
 leaving their wounded at Fort Jefferson, 
 the army continued its retreat to Fort 
 Washington, the site of the present city 
 of Cincinnati. 
 
 Poor St. Clair's defeat has been aptly 
 paralleled with that of Braddock. No 
 doubt, when he realized the terrible havoc 
 that had been made, he thought sadly of 
 Washington's parting words, " Beware of 
 a surprise ! " The manner in which the 
 news of this disaster affected Washington 
 is thus described by Mr. Rush : — 
 
 Towards the close of a winter's da}', in 
 December, an officer in uniform was seen 
 to dismount in front of the president's 
 house in Philadelphia, and, giving the 
 bridle to his servant, knock at the door of 
 the mansion. Learning from the porter 
 that the president was at dinner, he said 
 he was on public business, having dis- 
 patches which he could deliver only to the 
 commander-in-chief. A servant was sent 
 into the dining-room to give the informa- 
 tion to Mr. Lear, the president's private 
 
 secretary, who left the table and went into 
 the hall, where the officer repeated what 
 he had said. Mr. Lear replied that, as 
 the president's secretary, he would take 
 charge of the dispatches and deliver them 
 at the proper time. The officer made 
 answer that he had just arrived from the 
 western army, and his orders were explicit 
 to deliver them with all promptitude, and 
 to the president in person ; but that he 
 would wait his directions. Mr. Lear re- 
 turned, and in a whisper imparted to the 
 president what had passed. General 
 Washington rose from the table and went 
 to the officer. He was back in a short 
 time, made a word of apology for his ab- 
 sence, but no allusion to the cause of it. 
 He had company that day. Everything 
 went on as usual. Dinner over, the gen- 
 tlemen passed to the drawing-room of Mrs. 
 Washington, which was open in the even- 
 ing. The general spoke courteously to 
 every lady in the room, as was his custom. 
 His hours were earh', and by ten o'clock 
 all the company had gone. Soon Mrs. 
 Washington left the room, and the general 
 and Mr. Lear remained. The chief now 
 paced the room in hurried strides, and 
 without speaking, for several minutes. 
 Then he sat down on a sofa by the fire, 
 telling Mr. Lear to sit down. He rose 
 again, and, as he walked backward and 
 forward, Mr. Lear saw a storm gathering. 
 In the agony of his emotion, he struck his 
 clenched hands with fearful force against 
 his forehead, and in a paroxj'sm of anguish 
 exclaimed — 
 
 "It's all over! St. Clair's defeated— 
 routed ; the officers nearly all killed — the 
 men by wholesale — that brave army cut to 
 pieces — the rout complete ! too shocking to 
 think of — and a surprise in the bargain ! " 
 
 He uttered all this with great vehe- 
 mence. Then he paused, and walked 
 about the room several times, agitated, but 
 saying nothing. Near the door he stoj^ped 
 short and stood still a few seconds; then, 
 turning to the secretary, who stood amazed 
 at the spectacle of Washington in all his 
 terrors, the general, in his wrath, again 
 broke out, saying. 
 
150 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 " Yes, si?', HERE, in this very room, 07i 
 this very spot, I took leave of him; I 
 wished him success and honor. ' You 
 have your instructions,' I said, 'from the 
 secretary of war ; I had a strict eye to 
 them, and will add but one word — beware 
 of a surprise ! I repeat it — beware of a 
 surprise/ You know how the Indians 
 fight us.' He went off with that as my 
 last solemn warning thrown into his ears. 
 And yet, to suffer that army to be cut to 
 pieces, hacked by a surprise — the very 
 thing I guarded him against ! God ! 
 O God ! he's worse than a murderer ! 
 How can he answer it to his country ? 
 The blood of the slain is upon him — the 
 curse of widows and orphans — the curse of 
 heaven ! " 
 
 This torrent came out in tone appalling. 
 His very frame shook. " It was awful ! " 
 
 said Mr. Lear. More than once he threw 
 his hands up as he hurled imprecations 
 upon St. Clair. Mr. Lear remained speech- 
 less — awed into breathless silence. Pres- 
 ently the roused chief sat down on the 
 sofa once more. He seemed conscious of 
 his passion, and uncomfortable. He was 
 silent; his wrath began to subside. He 
 at length said, in an altered voice, 
 
 "This must not go beyond this room." 
 Another pause followed — a longer one — 
 when he said, in a tone quite low, 
 
 "General St. Clair shall have justice. 
 I looked hastily through the dispatches — 
 
 saw the whole disaster, but not all the par- 
 ticulars. I will hear him without preju- 
 dice ; he shall have full justice ; yes, long, 
 faithful, and meritorious services have 
 their claims." 
 
 Washington was now perfectly calm. 
 Half an hour had gone by ; the storm of 
 indignation and passion was over, and no 
 sign of it was afterward seen in his con- 
 duct or heard in his conversation. His 
 wrath on this occasion was perhaps never 
 before aroused to so great a pitch, except 
 when he confronted Lee, when the latter 
 w'as retreating at the battle of Monmouth. 
 St. Clair was succeeded bj- the brave 
 General Wayne, whose successes retrieved 
 the misfortunes of his predecessor, as the 
 following stirring record will show. It 
 will be interesting, however, to have some 
 account of the character and personal ap- 
 pearance of Michikiniqua, or 
 "Little Turtle," the Missesago 
 chief, who conquered St. Clair, 
 for in no recorded battle did the 
 sons of the forest ever show 
 themselves better warriors, or 
 achieve more renown at home 
 and abroad. 
 
 Notwithstanding his name. 
 Little Turtle was at this time at 
 least six feet high, strong, mus- 
 cular, and remarkably dignified 
 in his manners, though of a very 
 sour and morose countenance, 
 and apparently very crafty and 
 subtle. He was the son of a 
 Miami chief, and w^as forty-five 
 years of age when he led his warriors 
 against poor St. Clair. His warlike train- 
 ing was of that stern and hardening kind 
 which was never omitted in his nation. 
 
 It was on the banks of the Miami, or 
 Maumee, in 1794, that General Anthony 
 Wayne, the successor of St. Clair in the 
 command of the American army in the 
 Miami country, dealt a retributive and 
 staggering blow to the power of the In- 
 dians in that vast and magnificent region, 
 — a blow from which they never recovered. 
 Realizing the terrible shock which the 
 nation received l)y the defeat of St. Clair, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 151 
 
 the brave Wayne — " mad Anthony," as he 
 was commonly called, on account of his 
 reckless courage, — at once made the best 
 of his way to the theater of action, for it 
 was easy to foresee, what indeed immedi- 
 ately ensued, that, under the encourage- 
 ment of the successes against Harmer and 
 St. Clair, all the treaties would be dis- 
 
 solved, and a general savage confederacy 
 formed against the United States. 
 
 On the eighth of August, 1794, Wayne 
 had reached the confluence of the Au 
 Glaize and the Miamis of the lakes, with- 
 out opposition. The richest and most 
 extensive settlements of the western In- 
 dians were here. Halting at this place, 
 a few days, the Americans threw up some 
 works of defense. A fort had also been 
 built on the St. Mary, twenty-four miles 
 in advance of Fort Recovery. 
 
 Unwilling to lose time, or to be in any 
 way outwitted, Wayne moved forward on 
 the fifteenth of August, and on the six- 
 teenth met his messenger returning from 
 the Indians, and bearing word from them, 
 that, if the Americans would wait ten days 
 at Glaize, they, the Indians, would decide 
 for peace or war. Wayne's only notice of 
 this evasive message was to march straight 
 on, arriving, on the eighteenth, at the 
 rapids ; here they halted, and labored the 
 next day in erecting works for the protec- 
 tion of their baggage. At eight, on the 
 morning of the twentieth, the American 
 army moved down the north bank of the 
 
 Maumee ; Wayne's legion was on the 
 right, its flank covered by the Maumee; 
 one brigade of mounted volunteers Avas on 
 the left, under Brigadier-General Todd; 
 and the other was in the rear, under Brig- 
 adier-General Barbee. A selected battal- 
 ion of mounted volunteers moved in front 
 of the legion, commanded by Major Price, 
 who was directed to keep sufficiently ad- 
 vanced, so as to give timely notice for the 
 troops to form in case of action, it being 
 yet undetermined whether the Indians 
 would choose peace or war. 
 
 Wayne says, in his official dispatch, 
 that, after advancing about five miles, 
 Major Price's corps received so severe a 
 fire from the enemy, who were secreted in 
 the woods and high grass, as to compel 
 them to retreat. The legion was immedi- 
 ately formed into two lines, principally in 
 a close thick wood, which extended for 
 miles on the left, and for a verj' consider- 
 able distance in front ; the ground was 
 covered with old fallen timber, probably 
 occasioned by a tornado, which rendered it 
 impracticable for the cavalry to act with 
 effect, and afforded the enemy the most 
 favorable covert for their mode of warfare. 
 The savages were formed in three lines, 
 within supporting distance of each other, 
 and extending for nearly two miles at 
 right angles with the river. Wayne soon 
 discovered, from the weight of the fire and 
 the extent of their lines, that the enemy 
 were in full force in front, in possession 
 of their favorite ground, and endeavoring 
 to turn the American left flank. He there- 
 fore gave orders for the second line to 
 advance and support the first, and directed 
 Major-General Scott to gain and turn the 
 right flank of the savages, with the whole 
 of the mounted volunteers, by a circuitous 
 route ; at the same time, the front line was 
 ordered to advance and charge with trailed 
 arms, and rouse the Indians from their 
 coverts at the point of the bayonet, and 
 when up to deliver a close and well-directed 
 fire on their backs, followed by a brisk 
 charge, so as not to give them time to 
 load again. 
 
 All these orders were obeyed with spirit 
 
152 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 and promptitude ; but such was the im- 
 petuosity of the charge by the first line of 
 infantr}', that the Indians and Canadian 
 militia and volunteers were driven from 
 their coverts in so short a time, that, 
 although every possible exertion was used 
 
 LITTLE TURTLE. 
 
 by the officers of the second line of the 
 legion, and by Generals Scott, Todd, and 
 Barbee, of the mounted volunteers, to gain 
 their proper positions, only a part of each 
 could get up in season to participate in the 
 action, — the enemy being driven, in the 
 course of one hour, more than two miles, 
 through the thick woods, by less than one- 
 half their numbers. Thus did this power- 
 ful horde of savages, who had assumed to 
 dictate terms and throw down the gauntlet 
 to the American nation, abandon them- 
 selves to flight, and flee in terror and dis- 
 may, before Wayne and his victorious 
 army. They were compelled to sue for 
 peace on the conqueror's own terms ; their 
 
 confederacy was shattered into fragments ; 
 their power was forever annihilated. On 
 the return of Waj'ne to Philadelphia, then 
 the nation's capital, there was a cessation 
 of all business, as on some great holiday ; 
 the military turned out in legions to meet 
 him ; the bells rang out their merriest 
 peals, cannon boomed from ever}?^ hill-top, 
 and the plaudits of the multitude attended 
 him at every step. General Harrison's 
 defeat of the Indians under Tecumseh, at 
 Tippecanoe, in 1811, was another victory 
 of similar brilliancy and importance, de- 
 serving of mention here. 
 
 It only remains to add to this chapter. 
 General Jackson's crowning achievement 
 in the work of grinding to powder the mil- 
 itary prestige of the Indian race in North 
 America. The Creeks and Seminoles had 
 long disputed the intrusion of the white 
 race, and, though dreadfully cut to pieces 
 in the battles of Talluschatches, Talladega, 
 Emuckfaw, Enotochopco, and others, de- 
 termined to make one more great and final 
 struggle in the field. Accordingly, with 
 consummate sagacity and skill, they se- 
 lected a position at the great bend of the 
 Tallajjoosa, called by them Tohopeka, and 
 by the whites Horseshoe Bend. Here, 
 strongly fortified, were collected together 
 the proudest, fiercest, most victorious war- 
 riors, of all that race and region. On the 
 27th of March, 1814, Jackson advanced 
 and attacked them with tremendous en- 
 ergy, the troops leaping over the walls of 
 the fort, and engaging in a hand-to-hand 
 combat with the savages, the latter fight- 
 ing with characteristic fury and despera- 
 tion. Of the nine hundred warriors, — the 
 flower of their tribes, — who defended the 
 fort, seven hundred and fifty were killed 
 or drowned ; for, seeing no chance of 
 escape, and scorning to surrender, they 
 fought with bloody energy until nearly all 
 were slain. 
 
XIII. 
 
 WHITNEY'S EXTPvAORDINARY COTTON-GIN INVEN- 
 TION.— 1793. 
 
 Amazing Impetus Given to the Culture, Uses and Consumption of Cotton. — Revolution in the In- 
 dustrial Prospects and Political Power of tlie Soutli. — How Cotton Became " King." — Its Relation to 
 the Great Themes and Events in American History. — Ingratitude to Whitney. — His Brilliant Change 
 of Fortune in Another Sphere. — Whitney's Obscure Circumstances. — His Early Mechanical Genius. 
 — Determined to Get an Education. — Goes to the South as a Teacher. — Change of Pursuits — Be- 
 friended by General Greene's Widow. — Amateur Inventive Efforts. — Low State of Southern In- 
 dustry. — Objection to Cotton-Raising. — 
 Mrs. Greene's Apt Suggestion. — Whit- 
 ney's Characteristic Resolve. — Secret and 
 Persevering Toil. — E.xciting Rumors as 
 to His Purpose. — Great Expectations En- 
 tertained. — Triumphant Success. — En- 
 thusiasm of the Cotton-Growers. — His 
 Machine Stolen from Him. — Infringe- 
 ments upon His Patent. — Law-Suits, but 
 no Redress for Him. — His Pathetic Let- 
 ter to Fulton. — He Invents a Valuable 
 Firearm. — Southern Strides in Wealth. 
 
 " What Peter the Great did to make Russia dominant, 
 Eli Whilne.v't invention of the Coiton-Gin ha» more than 
 
 S: equaled in its relation to the progress and power of the 
 
 eqij 
 Un 
 
 ited Stales."— Lord Macaulay. 
 
 RESULTS OF THE COTTOJf-GIN. 
 
 EYOND all doubt or question, the 
 invention of the cotton-gin, just at 
 the close of the eighteenth century, 
 was an event which most wonder- 
 fully accelerated the high career of 
 the United States, in an industrial point of view, and, indeed, revolutionized, by an 
 extraordinary impetus, the manufactures and commerce of the world. It may be re- 
 garded, in a word, as the first key which was applied to the unlocking of those won- 
 drous natural capabilities of the new-born republic, the continued development of 
 which has given her such a foremost place, in respect to material and political 
 power, among the nations of the earth. So direct is its identity with the facts and 
 causes which have led to the country's prodigious progress during the hundred years 
 of its national history, that he who would trace to their primary source— with even 
 ordinary philosophical acuteness of judgment — those momentous events, whether 
 material, political, military, or social, which have distinguished the greater part of 
 that century, may well pause longest and take his latitude at this point. Such, in- 
 deed, is the great national consequence accorded by historians to this machine, that, of 
 
154 
 
 OUR riEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the thousands upon thousands of inven- 
 tions and discoveries recorded in the 
 patent office at Washington, many of 
 them, of course, of ahnost incalculable 
 value, only some half a dozen, or less, 
 are comprised in the ' chronology of 
 important dates,' in the New American 
 Cyclopedia, — that marvelous portrayal of 
 man and civilization during the known 
 ages. First among the triumphs of Amer- 
 ican ingenuity thus made conspicuously 
 historical, is the invention and introduc- 
 tion of the cotton-gin, in 1793, which is 
 the subject of this article. That it should 
 have a place among the few of its kind 
 capable of coming within the plan and 
 scoi>e of this volume, will be at once ap- 
 parent. 
 
 Before entering into the more elaboi'ate 
 details pertaining to this remarkable ma- 
 chine and its bearing upon American 
 industry and commerce, it may be useful 
 to give, in the first place, a sketch in brief 
 of the career of Eli Whitney, whose genius 
 gave to his country, and to mankind, this 
 great boon. At an eax-ly age, he gave in- 
 dications of that mechanical and inventive 
 talent, for which he was afterwards so 
 gi'eatly celebrated. His father was a 
 farmer in Westborough, Massachusetts, a 
 village where only the ordinary advantages 
 of a common-school education were availa- 
 ble. But Mr. Whitney was desirous of 
 the benefits of a more complete course of 
 instruction, and at the age of twenty-three 
 entered the college in New Haven. He 
 received the honors of this institution in 
 1792, and soon after went to Georgia, in 
 the expectation of opening a i)rivate 
 school, and devoting himself to that profes- 
 sion. In this expectation he was disap- 
 pointed, for, on arriving at the place of his 
 destination, he was informed that another 
 tutor was already filling the station he ex- 
 pected to occupy. 
 
 Having traveled from the north, to Sa- 
 vannah, in company with Mrs. Greene, the 
 wjdow of the revolutionary general and 
 hero of that name, he received from that 
 lady a courteous invitation to make her 
 house his home, while engaged in his 
 
 course of studies preparatory to entering 
 the legal j^rofession. This most favorable 
 offer, so timely in view of his shattered 
 health and scanty means, he gratefully 
 availed himself of. 
 
 It was on the occasion of a social gath- 
 ering of some neighbors and others, one 
 afternoon, at the residence of Mrs. Greene, 
 — a party including several planters of 
 distinction, a few of whom had served as 
 officers under General Greene's command, 
 — that Whitney first resolved to rouse his 
 genius to its utmost accomplishment. 
 Among other remarks made by the gentle- 
 men present, on the occasion referred to, 
 was one in regard to the depressed condi- 
 tion of the agricultural interests of Geor- 
 gia, namely, that since all the lands in 
 that region, not suitable for the cultivation 
 of rice, were eminently favorable for the 
 production of heavy cotton-crops, it was 
 exceedingly to be regretted that no means 
 existed of cleansing the green seed-cotton, 
 or of sej^arating it from its seed, in a 
 manner sufficiently thorough to make it 
 profitable, — it being almost useless, in the 
 absence of such a method or contrivance, 
 to undertake to grow cotton-crops for sale, 
 because only a pound of this green seed- 
 cotton could be cleaned and made mer- 
 chantable, per day, by a single laborer, 
 and the price obtainable for it, when thus 
 prepared, was but a few cents per pound. 
 
 In response to these suggestions, Mrs. 
 Greene, with true womanly perceptions, 
 and knowing Whitney's ingenious turn of 
 mind in the sphere of mechanics, naively 
 remarked, " Well, gentlemen, apply to my 
 young friend, Mr. Whitney, — he can make 
 anything;" and, suiting the action to the 
 word, she led them into the room where 
 her tambour or embroidery-frame was 
 kept, together with some other ingenious 
 contrivances, and exhibited them to the 
 company as evidences of Whitney's sin- 
 gular skill. On being introduced to these 
 gentlemen, and entering into conversation 
 with them on the subject, Mr. Whitney 
 was obliged to inform them that he had 
 never seen cotton nor cotton-seed in his 
 life ! 
 

156 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 In a few months, he had advanced so 
 far and so successfully with his machine, 
 as to leave no doubt of his having achieved 
 a complete triumph. In acknowledgment 
 of Mrs. Greene's many and valued atten- 
 tions to him during his labors, and her 
 steadfast interest in his fortunes, the grat- 
 ifying privilege was accorded her, on a 
 day duly appointed, of exhibiting to an 
 invited assembly of guests, principally 
 planters, a model of the saw-gin that was 
 to produce such a mighty change. Their 
 astonishment was almost unbounded, 
 when, on examining the principle and 
 working of the instrument, they fouixl 
 that more cotton could be separated from 
 the seed in one day by the labor of a single 
 hand, than could be done, in the usual 
 manner, in many months. Enthusiasm 
 over such a result, and in view of such a 
 prospect, was very natural. 
 
 The report of Mr. Whitney's invention 
 spread very rapidly throughout the South, 
 exciting intense interest, and the planters 
 in especial were eager to see a machine 
 that promised such incalculable benefits to 
 themselves and to the nation. For a time, 
 however, Whitney declined showing the 
 gin, as it was not entirely perfected, and 
 because it might be imitated by others, 
 and he be deprived in that way of his 
 right to a patent. But, so great was the 
 excitement to which the people had been 
 wrought up, and so tempting was the 
 chance which presented itself to the un- 
 principled, to appropriate to themselves 
 the fruits of other men's toils, that the 
 building in which Whitney carried on his 
 labors was actually broken into, one night, 
 by a party of lawless individuals, and the 
 instrument secretly carried off. Thus it 
 was that several machines were constructed 
 on the basis of Whitney's invention, and 
 indeed varying but little from the original, 
 though it was artfully attempted to have 
 the deviation sufficiently obvious to escape 
 the penalties of imitation. 
 
 It may well be supposed that the vari- 
 ous lawsuits growing out of the infringe- 
 ments upon his rights, was an exhausting 
 draft upon Mr. NVhitney's funds. But, in 
 
 addition to this drawback upon his enter- 
 prise, there befell him the successive 
 calamities of prolonged sickness, tjie 
 destruction of his manufacturing estab- 
 lishment by fire, and, worse than all, the 
 assertion on the part of certain unfriendly 
 persons, that the use of the machine ought 
 to be abandoned, because it greatly in- 
 jured the fiber of the cotton. The testi- 
 mony of some of the British manufacturers 
 was industriously circulated, to the effect 
 that the old roller-gin, which ground the 
 seed to impalpability, was preferable to 
 that which separated the seed from the 
 staple, at the sacrifice of its quality ! And 
 here it may be of interest to state, that, in 
 order to overcome the difficulty of separat- 
 ing the seed from the wool by hand, a 
 rude hand-mill, or roller-gin, was at an 
 early period substituted, in some parts of 
 India and China, by which from forty to 
 sixty-five pounds could be cleaned in a 
 day. After this, the cotton was further 
 cleaned from dirt and knots by ' bowing.' 
 A large bow being placed in a heap of 
 cotton, the string was made to vibrate pow- 
 erfully, thus dispersing and cleaning the 
 heap. These means, employed from re- 
 mote times in eastern countries, M-ere also 
 formerly used by American growers. 
 Much of the sea-island cotton is still separ 
 rated from its seeds by rollers constructed 
 on a large scale, and worked by horses, 
 steam, or water. These rollers are of 
 wood, and revolve rapidly in contact with 
 each other ; as they do so, a sort of comb 
 with iron teeth acts on the cotton as it 
 passes between them, and detaches the 
 seeds, which fly off like sparks in all direc- 
 tions. Particles of seeds which escape and 
 pass through with the cotton, are removed 
 by hand. The cotton is then whisked 
 about in a light wheel, and, when well 
 winnowed, it is conveyed to the packing- 
 house, and forced into bags bj'^ means of 
 screws, until each bag contains the requi- 
 site number of pounds. But short-stapled 
 cotton cannot be properly cleaned by this 
 process ; the seeds are so firmly attached 
 to the wool, that a more powerful machine 
 is needed, — a7ul here the utilty of the saw- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 157 
 
 gin over the roller-contrivance is manifest. 
 The cotton is put into a long and narrow 
 hopper, one side of wliich is formed by a 
 grating of strong paraHel wires, one-eightli 
 of an inch apart. Close to the hoi)per is a 
 roller set with circular saws, an inch and a 
 half apart. These, as they revolve, pass 
 within the grating of the hopper to a cer- 
 tain depth, and seize by their teeth on the 
 locks of cotton, dragging them through the 
 wires, which are not wide enough apart to 
 allow the seeds to pass also. The cotton 
 is afterwards swept from the saws by a 
 revolving cylindrical brush. Thus the 
 separation is effected in a cheap, easy, and 
 rapid manner. At first, Whitney used 
 bent wires or teeth, like those of the 
 common card, but much larger and 
 stronger, and these were placed in rows on 
 a revolving cylinder. The cotton was 
 separated from this cylinder by a frame of 
 parallel wires ; as the cylinder revolved, 
 the teeth extending through the wire- 
 frame caught the cotton and drew it 
 through the grating, but the seeds being 
 too large to pass between the wires, were 
 of course separated from the fiber. These 
 teeth, however, being found too weak to 
 pull the cotton from the seed without be- 
 coming bent or broken, Whitney substi- 
 tuted a circular saw in their place. The 
 teeth of the saw being large, and shaped 
 like the beak of a bird, had more strength 
 and were equally effective. 
 
 So serious an objection as that brought 
 by the British manufacturers, namely, that 
 the operation of this machine injured the 
 quality of the cotton, was a most disheart- 
 ening one to Mr. Whitney and his part- 
 ner, Mr. Miller, for, on its truth or falsity, 
 their fortune and fate depended. For a 
 time, the process of patent ginning was 
 quite at a stand ; and, indeed, little was 
 heard of it by the originators, except the 
 condolence of a few real friends, who ex- 
 pressed their regret that so promising an 
 invention had entirely failed. Of the in- 
 ventor's state of mind, as well as the con- 
 dition of his purse, at this time, some idea 
 may be formed from a letter written by 
 "Whitney, in the autumn of 1797, in which 
 
 he sa^'s : 'The extreme embarrassments 
 which have for a long time been accumu- 
 lating upon me are now become so great 
 that it will be impossible for me to strug- 
 gle against them many days longer. It 
 has required my utmost exertions to exist, 
 
 without making the least progress in our 
 business. I have labored hard against the 
 strong current of disappointment, which 
 has been threatening to carry us down the 
 cataract ; but I haA'e labored with a shat- 
 tered oar, and struggled in vain, unless 
 some speedy relief is obtained. Life is 
 but short, at best, and six or seven years 
 out of the midst of it is, to him who makes 
 it, an immense sacrifice. My most unre- 
 mitted attention has been directed to our 
 business. I have sacrificed to it other 
 objects, from which, before this time, I 
 might certainly have gained twenty or 
 thirty thousand dollars. M3' whole j»ros- 
 pects have been embarked in it, with the 
 expectation that I should, before this time, 
 have realized something from it.' Against 
 all opposition, the machine finally became 
 appreciated according to its merits, and, 
 though the country was flooded with imi- 
 tations, — against the manufacturers of 
 which, it seemed almost impossible to 
 obtain any redress or protection in the 
 courts of law, — a large demand set in, and 
 
158 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Whitney's golden visions appeared likely 
 to be realized. 
 
 At the suggestion made to them hy 
 some of their business friends, Miller and 
 Whitney were induced, in view of the 
 public benefit that would accrue to the 
 cotton-growing states, by the general and 
 inexpensive introduction of the saw-gin, to 
 offer the exclusive disposal of the machine 
 in South Carolina to the legislature of 
 that state, which offer was finallj^ accepted ; 
 the sum paid to the inventors, for this 
 privilege, being &ity thousand dollars. 
 Though this sum was only one-half of that 
 which had originally been fixed upon by 
 the patentees, it seems to have given quite 
 a zest to IVIr. Whitney's feelings and an- 
 ticipations, for he wrote in relation to the 
 new arrangement : ' The use of the machine 
 here (in South Carolina) is amazingly ex- 
 tensive, and the value of it beyond all 
 calculation. It may, without exaggera- 
 tion, be said to have raised the value of 
 seven-eighths of all the three southern 
 states from fifty to one hundred per cent. 
 We get but a song for it in comparison 
 with the worth of the thing; but it is se- 
 curing something. It will enable Miller 
 and Whitney to pay all their debts, and 
 divide something between them. It es- 
 tablishes a precedent that will be valuable 
 as respects our collections in other states, 
 and I think there is now a fair prospect 
 that I shall in the event realize property 
 enough to render me comfortable, and, in 
 some measure, independent.' It was not, 
 however, without much trouble and litiga- 
 tion, that Whitney realized the fulfillment 
 of this contract. 
 
 But the expense involved in numerous 
 suits at law against the encroachers upon 
 his patent, was more than the profits 
 yielded by the sales, and these struggles 
 and expenditures, and constantly-recurring 
 discouragements, sent Mr. Miller to a pre- 
 mature grave, at the close of 1803. In the 
 year 1812, Mr. Whitney applied to con- 
 gress for a renewal of his patent, in the 
 hope of still receiving some substantial 
 benefit from his invention. But the 
 southern delegation generally — though 
 
 with some honorable exceptions — were op- 
 posed to it ; which was of course the more 
 unexpected, as well as wounding, in view 
 of the immense advantage of the machine 
 to that part of the United States. In 
 regai'd to this last-mentioned point, no tes- 
 timony could be more weighty or emphatic 
 in the affirmative than that by Judge 
 Johnson, an eminent South Carolinian, 
 and, at the time of speaking, a judge of 
 the United States supreme court : — ' The 
 whole interior of the southern states (these 
 are the words of Judge Johnson, as judi- 
 cially uttered) was languishing, and its 
 inhabitants emigrating for want of some 
 object to engage their attention, and em- 
 ploy their industry, when the invention of 
 this machine at once opened views to them 
 which set the whole country in active 
 motion. From childhood to age, it has 
 presented to us a lucrative employment. 
 Individuals who were depressed with pov- 
 erty, and sunk in idleness, have suddenly 
 risen to Avealth and respectability. Our 
 debts have been j)aid off. Our capitals 
 have increased, and our lands trebled 
 themselves in value. We cannot express 
 the weight of the obligation which the 
 country owes to this invention. The ex- 
 tent of it cannot now be seen. Some faint 
 presentiment may be formed from the re- 
 flection that cotton is rapidly supplanting 
 wool, flax, silk, and even furs, in manufac- 
 tures, and may one day profitably supply 
 the use of specie in our East India trade. 
 Our sister states also participate in the 
 benefits of this invention ; for, beside af- 
 fording the raw material for their manu- 
 facturers, the bulkiness and quantity of 
 the article afford a valuable employment 
 for their shipping.' 
 
 Such was the testimony borne by the 
 highest possible authority, in regard to 
 the wonderful value and effect of this in- 
 vention. And yet, though full a dozen 
 years had elapsed since Whitney had 
 staked his all upon the machine, and was 
 even now pleading for redress against the 
 piracies committed upon his rights and 
 property, he was actually a j^oor man, 
 struggling against remorseless fate. Mr. 
 
GKEAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 
 
 159 
 
 ^Yliitney, in a letter almost pathetic in its 
 rehearsal of his wrongs, addressed to 
 Robert Fulton, the inventor of the first 
 successful steamboat, remarks, that 'the 
 difficulties witli which he had to contend 
 originated, principally, in the want of a 
 disposition in mankind to do justice. The 
 invention was new and distinct from every 
 other ; it stood alone. It was not inter- 
 woven with anything before known; and 
 it can seldom happen that an invention is 
 so strongly marked, and can be so clearly 
 and specifically identified ; and I have 
 always believed that I should have had no 
 difficulty in causing my rights to be re- 
 spected, if it had been less valuable, and 
 been used only by a small portion of the 
 community. But the use of this machine 
 being immensely profitable to almost every 
 planter in the cotton districts, all were in- 
 terested in trespassing upon the patent 
 right, and each kept the other in counte- 
 nance. Demagogues made themselves 
 popular by misrepresentation and un- 
 founded clamors, both against the right, 
 and the law made for its protection. 
 Hence there arose associations and combi- 
 nations to oppose both. At one time, few 
 men in Georgia dared to come into court 
 and testify to the most simple facts within 
 their knowledge, relative to the use of the 
 machine. In one instance, I had great 
 
 difficulty in proving that the machine had 
 been lined in Georgia, although, at the 
 same moment, there were three separate 
 sets of this machinery in motion within 
 fifty yards of the building; in which the 
 court sat, and all so near that the rattling 
 of the wheels was distinctly heard on the 
 steps of the court-house.' Surely, few 
 men of genius have rendered so great ben- 
 efits to their country, by means of an in- 
 vention, who have been so heartlessly 
 treated and so poorly remunerated. De- 
 spairing of ever realizing an adequate 
 return, therefore, for his cotton-gin, Whit- 
 ney applied his inventive skill to the im- 
 proved manufacture of firearms, in which 
 he was very successful, and, having ob- 
 tained valuable contracts from the govern- 
 ment for his improved muskets, he 
 ultimately acquired a fortune, — a strange 
 but most deserved sequel to his hitherto 
 checkered career. 
 
 The progress and value of the cotton 
 production in the United States, under the 
 impetus given to it by "Whitney's inven- 
 tion, may be characterized as simply 
 prodigious ; and, in the mind of the philo- 
 sophic statesman and student, the story of 
 the cotton-gin will forever weave itself, 
 most intimately and wonderfully, with 
 those great themes and events which make 
 up the nation's history. 
 
XIY. 
 
 THE FAMOUS WHISKEY INSURKECTION IN PENNSYL- 
 VANIA.— 1794. 
 
 Violent Resistance 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. 
 — Precipitate Flight of the Armed Rebels. — Congressional Tax on Spirits. — Cry of " Tyranny ! " from 
 Distillers. — Western Pennsylvania in a Blaze. — Extent of her Whiskey Interests. — Ambitious Politi- 
 cians at Work. — A Revolt Incited by Them. — Bradford the Chief Desperado. — Reign of Terror 
 Inaugurated. — Tax-Collectors Roughly Handled. — The Incendiary's Torch. — " Tom the Tinker's " 
 Ruffianism — Fury of the Factionists. — Firm Courage of Loyal Men. — Perplexity of the United States 
 Government. — Presidential Proclamation. — Law and Order to be Maintained. — Troops Summoned 
 into Service. — Prompt and Patriotic Response. — The Olive Branch vs. the Sword. — Bradford Scorna 
 Conciliation. — Washington's Mind Made Up. — Prevents the Effiision of Blood. 
 
 *' Here's to your fery goot health. 
 And tainn ta whusky duty I "— Soiro of the Times. 
 
 X HE year 1794 is distinguished in American history by a remark- 
 
 ^ able revolt among a portion of the inhabitants of Pennsylvania, 
 
 ^ _^^ and which is known as the Whiskey Insurrection. In 
 
 1791, congress had enacted laws laying excise duties upon 
 
 spirits distilled within the United States. This tax excited 
 
 ^^ great and general opposition, but nowhere else was such vio- 
 
 lence exhibited in resisting the execution of the law, as in the 
 western counties of Pennsylvania, where the crops of grain 
 were so over-abundant, that, in the absence of an adequate 
 market for its sale, an immense quantity of the cereal was 
 distilled into whiskey, — the far-famed " Monongahela," so 
 called from the name of the principal river of the region where 
 the manufacture was carried on. It was insisted upon, by 
 tliese people, that an article produced so exclusively, by an 
 isolated community, as their sole and necessary dependence, 
 ought not to be taxed for the support of the federal government; and this opinion 
 they adhered to — as the following pages will be found to show — Avith a tenacity 
 worthy of a better cause, notwithstanding the day of temperance societies had not 
 then dawned 
 
 Public meetings were held in all the chief towns, at which the action of congress 
 was loudly denounced as oppression to be battled against to the very last extremity; 
 
 CAUSES OF THE WHISKEY IN- 
 8UKUECTION IN I'ENN. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 IGl 
 
 dfihiriiig, too, tliut an}- 
 j)(.'rson wlio liad acceptinl 
 or luiglit accept an office 
 under government, in or- 
 der to curry tlie law into 
 effect, should be regarded 
 as an enemy of liis country-, 
 to Le treated with contempt 
 and total non-intercourse, 
 official and personal. The 
 federal government was 
 scoffed at, its coercive 
 authority disavowed; thus, 
 with the motto, ^^Liherfif 
 and No Excise!^'' the hall 
 of rebellion rolled on. 
 
 It was at this stage in 
 the progress of Jtff.urs, and 
 only one day preceding the 
 assembling of an import- 
 ant meeting of malcon- 
 tents of Pittsburg, that 
 the tax collector for the 
 counties of Alleghany and 
 Washington made his ap- 
 pearance. Aware of his 
 business, a party of men, 
 armed and disguised, way- 
 laid him at a jilace on 
 Pigeon Creek, in AVashing- 
 ton count}', seized, tarred 
 and feathered him, cut off 
 his hair, and deprived him 
 of his horse, obliging him 
 to decamp on foot in that 
 ludicrous and painful con- 
 dition. In attempting to 
 serve legal processes upon 
 the perpetrators of this out- 
 rage, the marshal's deputy 
 was also seized, whipped, 
 tarred and feathered; and, 
 after having his money and 
 horse taken from him, the 
 ruffians blindfolded and led 
 him into the depths of the 
 forest, where he was tied 
 and left to his fate. He 
 was fortunately discovered 
 in season, and rescued, by 
 some friends. 
 
162 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Not long after, a person of the name of 
 Roseberry underwent the humiliating pun- 
 ishment of tarring and feathering, with 
 some attendant aggravations, for having 
 in conversation hazarded the very natural 
 and just, but unpalatable remark, that the 
 inhabitants of a county could not reasona- 
 bly expect protection from a government 
 whose laws they so strenuously opposed. 
 So great, too, was the audacity of the per- 
 petrators of these outrages, that an armed 
 banditti of them ventured to seize and 
 carry off two persons who were witnesses 
 against the rioters in the case of Wilson, 
 in order to prevent their giving testimony 
 in a court then sitting, or about to sit. 
 
 On the part of the executive, suc^li open 
 defiance of the laws, and of the authority 
 of the government, was believed to imperi- 
 ously require that the strength and effi- 
 ciency of those laws should be tried, by 
 the governing power. Accordingly, Wash- 
 ington issued his proclamation, emphati- 
 cally condemning the lawless acts and pro- 
 ceedings, warning all to return at once to 
 their allegiance, and assuring them that 
 the laws should be executed at any hazard. 
 Against the leaders in some of the out- 
 rages which had been committed, bills of 
 indictment were found in a court of the 
 United States, upon which process was 
 directed to issue, and, at the same time, 
 process was also issued against a great 
 number of non-complying distillers. 
 
 This proclamation not producing the 
 desired effect, President Washington next 
 endeavored to prevent the necessity of 
 liaving recourse to active military meas- 
 ures, by making it the interest of the dis- 
 tillers to pay the duty. To this end, in 
 addition to the prosecutions instituted 
 against di-linquents, the spirits distilled in 
 the counties op])osing the law were ordered 
 to be seized ou their way to market, by 
 the officers of the revenue, and the con- 
 tractors for tlic army wore directed to 
 purchase oidy the spirits on which the 
 duties had been paid. But, whatever were 
 the inclinations of tlie distillers — or some 
 of them, — the fear of an infuriated popu- 
 lace prevented a compliance with these 
 
 orders; and the factionists continued to 
 take encouragement from the lenity of the 
 executive, in the expectation of ultimate 
 success. By violent threats tliey still 
 kept the marshal from serving his precepts, 
 committed numerous outrages upon the 
 friends of government, and perfected their 
 organization into military bands, to resist 
 any force that might be sent to subject 
 them to the laws. They styled their acts, 
 ^^ mending the stil/." 
 
 It is not to be doubted that this inflamed 
 state of the public mind was greatly ag- 
 gravated b}^ the ambitious designs and 
 intemperate speeches of a few leading 
 men. Conspicuous among the friends of 
 the malcontents were Bradford, Marsliall, 
 Smilie, Brackenridge, Husbands, Findley, 
 and Gallatin. The first-named, David 
 Bradford, was the chief agitator, and led 
 in person the desperate bands, in their 
 career of violence. He was an old settler 
 in Washington county, had accumulated a 
 large fortune, and, being bold and unscru- 
 pulous in his politics, wielded a powerful 
 influence over a certain class. Those asso- 
 ciated with him were men of decided abil- 
 ity, being of Scotch or Irish birth, and 
 possessing their dominant characteristics 
 of nationality. 
 
 In the early part of 1794, the hostility 
 of the law-breakers seemed to become more 
 implacable and demonstrative. William 
 Richmond, who had given information 
 against some of the rioters, in the affair 
 of Wilson, had his barn burnt, with all its 
 valuable contents; and the same thing 
 happened to Robert Shawan, a distiller, 
 who had been among the first to comply 
 with the law, and who had always spoken 
 favoral)l_y of it. These instances were 
 multiplied. The law-abiding inhabitants 
 were dogged and pui-sued by disorderly 
 persons, their houses and distilleries 
 broken into, property destroyed, conflagra- 
 tions kindled, machinery disabled, life 
 threatened. 
 
 June being the month for receiving an- 
 nual entries for stills, endeavors were used 
 to open offices in AVestmoreland and 
 AV'ashington, where it had liitherto been 
 
GREAT AND ME:\I0KAI;LE EVENTS. 
 
 163 
 
 found impracticable. With much pains 
 and difficulty, places were at last procured 
 for the pur])ose. 
 
 That in Westmoreland was repeatedly 
 attacked by armed men, in the niglit, who 
 frequently fired upon it ; but it was de- 
 fended with so much determination and 
 perseverance, as to have been maintained 
 during the remainder of the month. That 
 in Washington, after repeated attempts, 
 was sui>pressed. 
 
 Charging himself with the service of the 
 processes officially intrusted to him, the 
 marshal repaired in person to the country 
 which was the scene of these disorders. 
 He continued unmolested in the perform- 
 ance of this duty, until, being seen in 
 company with General John Neville, in- 
 spector of the county and a zealous advo- 
 cate of the tax, they were assaulted on the 
 road by a body of armed men, who fired, 
 but without doing any injury. Early the 
 next morning, a party attacked the house 
 of General Neville, the inspector, but he 
 defended himself bravely and successfully. 
 
 Apprehending, however, that the busi- 
 ness would not terminate here, Neville 
 made application by letter to the judges, 
 generals of militia, and sheriff of the 
 county, for protection. A reply to his 
 application, from John Wilkins, Jr., and 
 John Gibson, magistrates and militia-offi- 
 cers, informed him that the laws could not 
 be executed, so as to afford him the pro- 
 tection to which he was entitled, owing to 
 the too general combination of the people 
 in that part of Pennsylvania to oppose the 
 revenue law ; adding, that they would take 
 every step in their power to bring the 
 rioters to justice, and would be glad to 
 receive information relative to the individ- 
 uals concerned in the attack on his house, 
 that prosecutions might be commenced 
 against them — at the same time expressing 
 regret that, should the citizens of the 
 county be ordered out, in support of the 
 civil authority, very few could be gotten 
 who were not of the party of the rioters. 
 
 The day following, the insurgents re- 
 assembled with a considerable augmenta- 
 tion of numbers, amounting to at least 
 
 five hundred, and, on the seventeenth of 
 July, renewed their attack upon the house 
 of the inspector, who, in the interval, had 
 taken the pi-ecaution of calling to his aid 
 a small detachment from the garrison of 
 Fort Pitt, which, at the time of the attack, 
 consisted of eleven men, who had been 
 joined by Major Abraham Kirkpatrick, a 
 friend and connection of the ins^^ector. 
 The leader of the insurgents was a despe- 
 rado named John Holcroft, or " I'om the 
 Tinker^'' as he was familiarly called. 
 
 There being scarcel}'^ a prospect of ef- 
 fectual defense against so large a number 
 as then appeared, and as the inspector had 
 everything to apprehend for his person, if 
 taken, it was judged advisable that he 
 should withdraw from the house to a place 
 of concealment; Major Kirkpatrick gen- 
 erously agreeing to remain with the eleven, 
 intending, if practicable, to make a capit- 
 ulation in favor of the property, or, if un- 
 successful, to defend it as long as possible. 
 
 A parley took ])lace, under cover of a 
 flag, which was sent by the insurgents to 
 the house, with a demand that the inspec- 
 tor should come forth, renounce his office, 
 and stipulate never again to accept an 
 office under the same laws. To this it was 
 replied, that the inspector had left the 
 house upon their first approach, and that 
 the place to which he had retired was un- 
 known. They then declared that they 
 must have whatever related to his office ; 
 to which, answer was made they might 
 send persons, not exceeding six, to search 
 the house, and take away whatever papers 
 they could find, pertaining to the office. 
 But, not satisfied with this, they insisted, 
 unconditionally, that the armed men who 
 were in the house for its defense, should 
 march out and ground their arms. Major 
 Kirkpatrick peremptorily refused, consid- 
 ering it and representing it to them as a 
 proof of a design to destroy the jiroperty ; 
 and this refusal put an end to the parley. 
 
 Brisk firing now took place between the 
 insurgents and the party in the house, 
 lasting for about an hour, till the assail- 
 ants, having set fire to the neighboring 
 and adjacent buildings, eight in number, 
 
K4 
 
 OUR FIRST CEXTURY.— 177G-1S7G. 
 
 the intensenoss of tlie lieat, and the danger 
 of an immediate communication of fire 
 to the house, obliged tlie brave Ivirkpat- 
 rick and his small party to come out and 
 surrender themselves. 
 
 Desirous of ascertaining their full 
 strength, and also to discover any secret 
 enemies that might remain unsuspected in 
 the midst of these treasonable movements, 
 Bradford and his comrades proceeded with 
 a high and unsparing hand. INIonster 
 meetings of friends and sympathizers were 
 
 DAVID BR.IDFORD. 
 
 appointed, to determine the fii'st question ; 
 and, to obtain satisfaction in regard to the 
 second, the luail between Pittsburg and 
 Philadelphia was stopped b}'^ armed men, 
 who cut it open, and took out the letters 
 which it contained. In some of these 
 letters, a direct disapprobation of the vio- 
 lent measures which had been adopted 
 was openly avowed. Upon acquiring thus 
 the names of their opponents, messengers 
 were sent to Pittsbui-g, where the writers 
 of the offensive letters resided, demanding 
 the banishment of the offenders. A 
 prompt obedience to these demands was 
 unavoidable. Another plan was, for seiz- 
 ing the United States military stores at 
 Pittsburg, and using them in carrying on 
 the revolt. In order to accomplish this, a 
 mammoth gathering of the anarchists was 
 appointed to be held on Braddock's field, 
 August first. This call was made in the 
 form usual for militia musters, and all 
 were notified to come armed and equipped. 
 Seven thousayid men anstvered to this call, 
 and Bradford, assuming the office of major- 
 general, reviewed the dense mass of troops. 
 The main purpose, however, of this assem- 
 blage, namely, to march upon Pittsburg, 
 
 take possession of Fort Pitt and the 
 United States arsenal, and then form an 
 independent state, or sovereignty, com- 
 posed of the counties west of the Alleghany 
 range, had been divulged to few, and, 
 upon farther consultation, it was found 
 that the desperation of some of the leaders 
 failed them at this point, and the project 
 was abandoned. But it was determined to 
 march to Pittsburg at any rate, — a march 
 that was attended b^^ a wholesale intimi- 
 dation of the disaffected, the robbing of 
 houses, and the burning of buildings. But 
 the greatest popular demonstration made 
 of the law-breakers' strength, was the 
 meeting at Parkinson's Ferry, where there 
 assembled representatives of the whole 
 vast region in insurrection, and, in the 
 mad enthusiasm of the hour, pledfjed them- 
 selves to follow, sixteen thousand strong, 
 under the banner of Bradford, in resisting 
 and overturning the government. There 
 were at this meeting many able men, but 
 the attendant throng was of a far different 
 class. 
 
 The president had now, for three j-ears, 
 patiently awaited the effect of conciliatory 
 measures, but these had onl}' continued to 
 render the opposition more desperate. He 
 therefore had only to choose between the 
 alternative of permitting the jirostration 
 of the government, or to call out its force 
 in support of the laws. It was not in the 
 nature of Washington to allow the former. 
 
 The subject, in all its momentous con- 
 sequences, was laid by President Wash- 
 ington before the cabinet, for final action, 
 and General jNIitHin, the governor of Penn- 
 sylvania, was on this occasion called into 
 the council. Their unanimous desire was 
 to avoid, if possible, a resort to arms and 
 bloodshed, and they therefore advised that 
 commissioners should be sent to the insur- 
 gents to warn them of their danger, and to 
 offer a pardon of past offenses, on condi- 
 tion of future obedience to the laws. It 
 was also advised that a proclamation 
 should be issued, in conformitj^ to the act 
 of congress, commanding the insurgents 
 to disperse by a given da}'. All agreed 
 that a crisis had arrived which was testing 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLK EVENTS. 
 
 1G5 
 
 the strength and practicability of republi- 
 can institutions. 
 
 The president did not hesitate to do his 
 duty. He could no longer see the laws 
 prostrated, and the authority of the United 
 States defied, without exerting the means 
 of prevention. He resolved, therefore, to 
 issue the proclamation, which, by law, was 
 to precede the employment of force. Tliis 
 proclamation, issued August seventh, con- 
 tained a brief but distinct recapitulation 
 of the measures which had been adopted 
 by the government, as well as the pro- 
 ceedings on the part of the insurgents, and 
 the preparatory steps which had been 
 taken to authorize the executive to employ 
 coercion — and Avhich, though with the 
 deepest regret, he had determined to do, 
 in the interests of national preservation 
 and social order ; and commanding all 
 persons being in the position of insurgents, 
 and all others whom it might concern, on 
 or before the first day of the ensuing 
 month of September, to disperse and re- 
 tire peaceably to their homes. 
 
 On the same day of this proclamation, 
 a requisition was made on the governors 
 of New Jerse}-, Pennsylvania, Maryland, 
 and Virginia, for their several quotas of 
 militia to compose an army of twelve or 
 fifteen thousand men, who were to be im- 
 mediately organized and prepared to march 
 at a minute's warning. 
 
 While the necessary steps were being 
 talvcn to bring this force into the field, a 
 last attempt was made to render its em- 
 ployment unnecessary. To this end, the 
 attorney-general of the United States, who 
 was also a citizen of Pennsylvania, to- 
 gether with Judge Yates, of the superior 
 court, and Senator Ross of Pennsylvania, 
 who was particularly popular in the west- 
 ern section, were deputed by the govern- 
 ment to be the bearers of a general 
 amnesty for jjast offenses, on the sole con- 
 dition of future obedience to the laws. 
 
 It having been deemed advisable that 
 the executive of the state in which the 
 insurrection was rampant should act in 
 concert with that of the United States, a 
 proclamation, similar in tone and spirit to 
 
 that of the president, was now issued by 
 Governor Mifflin, and commissioners were 
 appointed by him to unite with those of 
 the general government. 
 
 But Bradford, whose sway over his fol- 
 lowers was well nigh despotic, inspiring 
 them with slavish terror, laughed at the 
 government j)rochimation and measures, 
 claimed that he could marshal an army 
 that would scatter the federal force to the 
 four winds, and, under the banner of 
 " Liberty and No Excise — No Asi/lum for 
 Cowards and Traitors/" the insurgent 
 spirit waxed fiercer and more bold. At- 
 tempts were made to embark the adjacent 
 counties of Virginia in tlieir cause, and 
 their violence was extended to JNIorgan- 
 town, at which place an inspector resided, 
 who only saved himself by ffight, and pro- 
 tected his property by advertising, on his 
 own door, that he had resigned his office. 
 Similar excursions were made into the 
 eastern counties of Pennsylvania. 
 
 The great convention of malcontents at 
 Parkinson's Ferry had, under the advice 
 of IJrackenridge, Marshall, Gallatin, and 
 some others, appointed a committee of 
 safety, of sixty members, who chose fifteen 
 of their body to confer with the commis- 
 sioners of the United States, and of Penn- 
 s^'lvania. This committee was to receive 
 proposals, but neither offer nor accept 
 terms of settlement. 
 
 In their report of the conference thus 
 held, the committee expressed themselves 
 in favor of accejiting the accommodation 
 offered by the government. But, though 
 many of the insurgents, trembling at the 
 extent of the conflagration they had kin- 
 dled, were now disposed to yield, a vast 
 number still continued, under Bradford's 
 fiery lead, to go on in their revolutionary 
 violence, and so the last door to reconcilia- 
 tion was shut. Meanwhile, the president's 
 call for troops was being responded to in 
 overwhelming numbers, under the patriotic 
 lead of Governor jMifflin. 
 
 The president issued a second proclama- 
 tion, September 25, describing in terms of 
 great energy the obstinate and perverse 
 spirit with which the government's lenient 
 
166 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 propositions had been received, and de- 
 claring liis fixed determination, in virtue 
 of the higli and imperative duty imposed 
 upon liim by the constitution to " take care 
 that the laws be faithfulbj executed,''^ to 
 reduce the refractor^'^ to obedience. 
 
 On every side, the signals of war were 
 now displayed ! The troops of Xew Jersey 
 and Pennsylvania were directed to ren- 
 dezvous at Bedford, and those of Maryland 
 and Virginia at Cumberland, on the Poto- 
 mac. The command of the expedition Avas 
 given to General Henry Lee, of Virginia; 
 and the governors of New Jersey and 
 Pennsylvania commanded, under him, the 
 militia of their respective states. The 
 president, in person, pushed on for Phila- 
 d'-'lphia, through deep roads and a three 
 days' drenching rain, A'isiting, as com- 
 mander-in-chief, each of the two grand 
 divisions into v/hich he liad divided the 
 forces. He had intended to continue to 
 lead the army solely himself; but, ascer- 
 taining that this would not be called for, 
 and feeling confident that the force em- 
 ployed must break down all resistance, he 
 left General Hamilton, as his deputy, 
 giving directions to Lee to march each 
 
 division across the Alleghany mountains, 
 meet on the other side, and act against the 
 insurgents as circumstances might require. 
 But, as had been sagaciously foreseen, the 
 
 GEN. HENKY LEE. 
 
 greatness of the force prevented the effu- 
 sion of blood. The rebellious hordes fled 
 before such a demonstration, the clemency 
 of the government was solicited, and sub- 
 mission to every law freely promised. 
 Some of the more axW disposed were ar- 
 rested and tried, but pardon was ultimately 
 extended to all. Bradford escaped to 
 Spanish territory. And thus, in the 
 words of AVashington, was decided " the 
 contest, whether a small proportion of the 
 United States shall dictate to the Avhole 
 Union." 
 
XY. 
 
 FOUNDING AND ESTABLISHMENT OF THE NATIONAL 
 
 CAPITAL.— 1709. 
 
 Bitter Sectional Contest in Deciding the Location. — First "Compromise" in Congress between the 
 Nortii and the Soutii.— Final Kemoval of the Government and its Archives to Washington — Official 
 Ohservance of the Event.— Magnificent Site and Plan of tiie City.— Splendor of its Public Build- 
 ings.— Congress First Sits in Philadelphia.— Need of a Permanent Capital — National Dignity Involved. 
 — Violent Agitation of the Subject.— Philadelphia and New York Proposed. — They are Ohjected toby 
 the South —Northern Disunion Threats —Schemes of Conciliation. — How the Question was Settled. 
 — Sweetening Two Bitter Pills.— Jefferson's Graphic Account.— General Washington's Preference.— 
 His Site on the Potomac Adopted. — Some Rather Personal Anecdotes. — Work of Laying Out the City. 
 — Its Original Aspect and Condition — Early Trials of the President's Wite. — Construction of the Cap- 
 itol.— Its Corner-Stone Laid by Washington. — Congress in its New Halls. — Growth of the Metropolis. 
 — The New Corner-Stone of 1851. 
 
 " Where poorcd the hut the pnlace tnwers ; 
 Where Bkimined tie hark the W!l^-^hiI) lowera ; 
 Joy ;ruilv ciiniN \vhere whs i>ile?K'e riif'e ; 
 Aud cultured thou^aada thruui; the buliludc. 
 
 .EXT in importance to the founding of a free and independent 
 nationality, and the inauguration of a supreme legishitive and 
 executive government, was the act of establishing a permanent 
 capital, — one on a scale, and of a character, commensurate with 
 the dignity and prospects of the new republic. Indeed, from as early a period as June, 
 1783, when congress was virtually driven from its halls in Philadelphia by the mutiny 
 of a part of the Pennsylvania line, the necessity was very evident of some place being 
 fixed tijjon where the government of the Union might at least be secure from violence 
 and insult. As this remarkable and untoward circumstance was, perhaps, one of the 
 most notable in its bearing upon subsequent events, in this connection, it may be worth 
 while to recite some of its chief features. While the patriot army, encamped under 
 'the eye of Washington, bore their hardships and privations without flinching, and, at 
 the close of the struggle, in 1783, returned quietly, though poor and unpaid, to their 
 homes, some of the newly-recruited soldiers of Pennsylvania, stationed at Lancaster, 
 suddenly mutinied and set off in a body for Philadelphia, to demand redress of fancied 
 grievances from the legislature of the state. Arriving at that cit3', they were joined 
 by a force from the barracks, and proceeded on the second of June with beat of drum 
 and fixed bayonets to the state house, where congress and the supreme executive council 
 of Pennsylvania were both holding their sessions. After placing sentinels at all the 
 doors, they sent in a written message, threatening the president and the council of the 
 state to let loose an enraged soldiery upon them, if their demands were not acceded to 
 in twenty minutes. Although the resentments of this banditti were not directed par- 
 
168 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 ticiilai-ly against congress, the government 
 of the Union -was grossly insulted, and 
 those who administered it were blockaded 
 for several hours in the discharge of their 
 duties, by an armed band. Fearing lest 
 the authorities of Pennsylvania might not 
 be able to furnish adequate protection, it 
 adjourned to meet within a few days at 
 Princeton, — sending information, in the 
 meantime, to "Washington, of this outbreak. 
 The latter immediately sent fifteen hun- 
 dred men under General Howe to suppress 
 the mutiny ; but before the detachment 
 could reach Philadelphia, the mutiny was 
 in a great degree subdued, and fortunately 
 without bloodshed. 
 
 When once the subject of definitely 
 fixing upon a location for the seat of gov- 
 ernment was before congress and the 
 people, the question seemed to overshadow 
 all otliers. Being in session at Princeton, 
 under the circumstances above narrated, it 
 was resolved by congress that a building 
 for the national legislature be erected near 
 the Falls of the Delaware. 
 
 The commissioners to la}'' out a town on 
 the Delaware reported their proceedings 
 to congress, but no furtlier steps were 
 taken to carry the resolution into effect. 
 Some were very strenuous for New York, 
 others proposed some convenient place on 
 the banks of the Susquehanna. To the 
 latter ])roposition, southern membei'S, 
 among whom was Mr. Madison, were un- 
 alterably opposed. All admitted tlie im- 
 portance of the step to be taken, involving, 
 perhaps, the perpetuity of the government 
 itself. 
 
 At length, a compact respecting the 
 temporar}^ and permanent seat of govern- 
 ment was entered into between the friends 
 of Philadelphia, and the Potomac, whereby 
 it was stipulated that congress should 
 hold its sessions in Pliiladelphia, for ten 
 years, during which time, buildings for 
 the accommodation of the government 
 should be erected at some place, to be se- 
 lected, on the Potomac, and which latter 
 should become, on the expiration of the 
 ten years, the permanent capital of the 
 nation. This compromise having united 
 
 the representatives of Pennsj'lvania and 
 Delaware with the friends of the Potomac, 
 in favor both of the temporary and perma- 
 nent locality which had been mutuall}' 
 agreed on between them, a majority was 
 thus finally secured in favor of the project, 
 and a bill which was brought into the 
 senate in conformity with this arrange- 
 ment, passed both houses by small major- 
 ities, though, according to Judge Marshall, 
 these majorities would have been larger, 
 if necessary. 
 
 But, as the final compromise briefly re- 
 corded above shows, the die xoas cast, at 
 last, to mutual satisfaction. How this was 
 brought about, Jefferson's graphic, and, 
 it may be, highly-colored portraiture gf the 
 closing hour and result of the struggle will 
 give some idea: 'The eastern members 
 particularly, who, with Smith from South 
 Cai'olina, were the principal gamblers in 
 these scenes, threatened secession and dis- 
 solution. Hamilton was in despair. As 
 I was going to the president's, one day, I 
 met him in the street. He walked me 
 backwards and forwards before the presi- 
 dent's door for half an hour. He painted 
 patheticall}' the temper into which the 
 legislature had been wrought ; the disgust 
 of tliose who were called the creditor 
 states ; the danger of the secession of their 
 members, andjthe separation of the states. 
 He observed that the members of the ad- 
 ministration ought to act in concert ; that 
 though this question was not of my de- 
 partment, yet a common dut}' should make 
 it a common concern ; that the president 
 was the center on which all administration 
 questions ultimately rested, and that all of 
 us should rally around him, and support, 
 with joint efforts, measures approved by 
 him ; and that the question having been 
 lost by a small majority' only, it was prob- 
 able that an appeal from me to the judg- 
 ment and discretion of some of my friends, 
 might effect a change in the vote, and the 
 machine of government, now suspended, 
 might be again set into motion. I told him 
 that I was reall}' a stranger to the whole 
 subject ; that not having yet informed my- 
 self of the system of finance adopted, 1 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 icy 
 
 know not how far this was a necessary se- 
 (luoiK-e ; tliat undoubti'dl}', if its rejection 
 en(Uingerecl a dissolution of our Union at 
 tliis incipient stage, I should deem that 
 tlie most unfortunate of all consequences, 
 to avert which all partial and temporary 
 evils should be yielded. I proposed to 
 him, however, to dine with me the next 
 day, and I would invite another friend or 
 two, bring them into conference togetlier, 
 and I thought it impossible that reasona- 
 ble men, consulting together coolly, could 
 fail, by some mutual sacrifices of opinion, 
 to form a compromise which was to save 
 the Union. The discussion took place. I 
 could take no part in it but an exhortatory 
 one, because I was a stranger to the cir- 
 cumstances which should govern it. But 
 it was finally agreed, that whatever im- 
 portance had been attached to the rejection 
 of tliis proposition, the preservation of the 
 Union and of concord among the states, 
 was more important, and that, therefore, 
 it would be better that the vote of rejec- 
 tion should be rescinded, to effect which 
 some members should change their votes. 
 But it was observed that this pill would be 
 peculiarly hitter to the southern states, 
 and that some concomitant measure should 
 be adopted to sweeten it a little to them. 
 There had before been projects to fix the 
 seat of government either <it Philadelphia, 
 or at Georgetown on the Potomac ; and it 
 was thought that, by giving it to Phila- 
 delphia for ten years, and to Georgetown 
 permanently afterwards, this might, as an 
 anodyne, calm in some degree the ferment 
 which might be excited by the other meas- 
 ure alone. So two of the Potomac mem- 
 bers (White and Lee, but White with a 
 revulsion of stomach almost convulsive) 
 agreed to change their votes, and Hamilton 
 undertook to carry the other point. In 
 doing this, the influence he had established 
 over the eastern members, with the agency 
 of Robert Morris with those of the middle 
 states, effected his side of the engagement.' 
 Thus it was that the assumption-bill was 
 passed, and thus it was that the far more 
 important measure was enacted, which 
 provided — 
 
 " That a district of territory on the 
 river Potomac, at some place Ijetween the 
 mouths of the eastern branch and the 
 Connogocheague, be, and the same is 
 hereby, accepted, for the jjermanent seat 
 of the government of the United States." 
 In enduring honor of the father of his 
 countr}', the name given to the projected 
 city was Washixgtox. 
 
 From the beginning. General Washing- 
 ton advocated the site wliich was finally 
 fixed upon, and its establishment there 
 was due in a large measure to liis counsels 
 and influence. It is related, though some- 
 what questionable, that during the hot and 
 angry discussion on the subject, in con- 
 gress, pending the determination of a 
 locality, a person who was in company 
 with Washington remarked, one da^-, — 
 
 " I know very well where the federal 
 cit}' ought to be." 
 
 "Where then would you put it, sir?" 
 Avas the serene inquiry of Washington. 
 
 " It ought to be located in Philadelphia," 
 was the reply. 
 
 " W^hy are you sure it should be there ? " 
 
 " For the most satisfactory of all rea- 
 sons," was the sinister answer ; '' because 
 nearly the whole of my property lies there 
 and in the neighborhood." 
 
 In stern silence did Washington fasten 
 his eye upon the man who thus dared the 
 insolent insinuation that the president 
 favored the location of the capital in its 
 present site because it was near his Mount 
 Vernon estates ; and the offender soon 
 vanished out of sight. 
 
 Another little anecdote in this connec- 
 tion will be here given, as showing that 
 " no sea is free from ripples." It was for 
 many years traditional in the federal cai)i- 
 tal, that one man was found not awed by 
 the presence of the great founder of that 
 city. "\^niile the president was procuring 
 the ground which was to be the seat of 
 government, he had but little difficulty in 
 obtaining the necessary releases, except in 
 one instance. Mr. James Byrnes was tlie 
 owner of a lot or tract which it was advis- 
 able should be included in tlie plan. The 
 creneral had various conferences with M/. 
 
170 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 Byrnes, avIio was especially obstinate, and, 
 liiglily prizing, as he did, the tract in ques- 
 tion, flatly resisted all the reasonings and 
 persuasions of the great man. Unused to 
 opposition, Washington at last turned 
 upon him and said, as only he could say 
 
 it — 
 
 "Mr. James Byrnes! what would 3'our 
 land have been worth if I had not placed 
 this city on the Potomac ? " 
 
 Byrnes was not at all crushed by this 
 peculiar flanking argument on the part of 
 the general; but, undismayed, coolly 
 turned to him and said, — 
 
 "George Washington, what would you 
 have been worth if you had not married 
 the widow Custis ? " 
 
 It will not do to judge of the nation's 
 metropolis at that day by what it is now. 
 At that time it was desolate in the ex- 
 treme, with its long unimproved avenues 
 and streets, its deep morasses, and its vast 
 area covered with trees instead of houses. 
 Mrs. Adams, the wife of President John 
 Adams, who first occupied the Wliite 
 House, in writing to a friend regarding 
 the city and the presidential mansion at 
 that period, says: 'In the city are build- 
 ings enough, if they were compact and 
 finished, to accommodate congress and 
 those attached to it, but as they are, I see 
 no great comfort in them. The river, 
 which runs up to Alexandria, is in full 
 view of my window, and I can see the 
 vessels as they pass and re-pass. The 
 house is upon a grand and superb scale, 
 requiring about thirty servants to attend 
 and keep the apartments in proper order, 
 and perform the ordinary business of the 
 house and stables ; an establishment very 
 well pro[>ortioned to the president's salary. 
 The lighting the apartments, from the 
 kitchen to the parlors and chambers, is a 
 t.ix indeed; and the fires we are obliged 
 to keep, to secure us from daily agues, is 
 another very cheering comfort. To assist 
 us in this great castle, and render less at- 
 tendance necessar}', bells are wholly want- 
 ing, not one being hung through the 
 whole house, and promises are all we can 
 obtain. This is so great an inconvenience 
 
 that I know not what to do, or how to do. 
 If they will put me up some bells, and let 
 me have wood enough to keep fires, I de- 
 sign to be pleased. I could content my- 
 self anywhere tliree months, but sur- 
 rounded by forests, can 3'ou believe that 
 wood is not to be had, because people can 
 not be found to cut and cart it ? Briesler 
 entered into a contract with a man to 
 supply him with wood. A small part, a 
 few cords only, has he been able to get. 
 Most of that was expended to dry the walls 
 of the house before we came in, and yes- 
 terday the man told him it was impossible 
 for him to procure it to be cut and carted. 
 He has had recourse to coals; but we can 
 not get grates made and set. We have 
 indeed come into a new country? These 
 and kindred inconveniences were naturally 
 incident to the new order of tilings; they 
 were only temporary'. 
 
 As has already appeared, it was reserved 
 to Washington's immediate successor in 
 the presidential office, to be the first occu- 
 pant of the executive mansion. Neverthe- 
 less, the superintending mind and hand of 
 Washington are broadly identified with 
 the conception not only of that elegant 
 building, but of the capitol and other gov- 
 ernment structures. On the fifteenth day 
 of April, 1791, the Hon. Daniel Carroll 
 and Dr. David Stewart sujierintended the 
 fixing of the first corner-stone of the Dis- 
 trict of Columbia, at Jones's Point, near 
 Alexandria; it was laid with all the usual 
 masonic ceremonies, an address being also 
 delivered on the occasion by Rev. James 
 Muir. " May this stone," said the orator, 
 " long commemorate the goodness of God 
 in those uncommon events which have 
 given America a name among nations. 
 Under this stone may jealous\' and selfish- 
 ness be forever buried. From this stone 
 may a superstructure arise whose glory, 
 whose magnificence, whose stability, shall 
 astonish the world." The south-east 
 corner-stone of the capitol was laid by 
 President Washington, September eight- 
 eenth, 1793, with appropriate services, 
 principal among whicli was the act of the 
 commissioners, in their official cajiacity, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 171 
 
 WASIirXGTOX, D. C, IN 1876. 
 
 when they delivered to President Wash- 
 ington, who deposited it in the stone, a 
 silver plate, inscribed as follows : — 
 
 " This south-east corner-stone of the 
 Capitol of the United States of America, 
 in the city of Washington, was laid on the 
 18th day of September, 1793, in the eight- 
 eenth year of American Independence, in 
 the first year of the second term of the 
 presidency of George Washington, whose 
 virtues in the civil administration of his 
 country have been as conspicuous and 
 beneficial as his military valor and pru- 
 dence have been useful in establishing her 
 liberties, and in the j^ear of Masonry 5793, 
 by the President of the United States, in 
 concert with the Grand Lodge of Mary- 
 land, several lodges under its jurisdiction, 
 and Lodge No. 22 from Alexandria, Vir- 
 ginia." 
 
 In the summer of 1800, the archives of 
 the government were removed from Phila- 
 delphia to AVashington, and, the ensuing 
 November, the north wing of the capitol 
 was ready for the first sitting of congress 
 in the new metropolis. John Cotton 
 
 Smith, a distinguished member of this con- 
 gress from Connecticut, speaking of the 
 new city on his arrival there, says: *I 
 can not sufficiently 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- 
 ulafory addresses between the chief mag- 
 istrate of the republic on the one part, and 
 the senate and house of representatives on 
 the other. 
 
 A more beautiful site for a large city 
 could scarcely 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 cit}', and that avenues should radi- 
 ate from it at equi-distaht points. To 
 complete his plan, the metropolis should 
 have a million of inhabitants, instead of 
 
172 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 its present very moderate fraction of that 
 number. Tliough not a seven-hilled city, 
 Washington has, as well as Rome, its Ca- 
 pitoline Hill, commanding views scarcely 
 
 NATIONAL CAPITOL IN 1876. 
 
 less striking than those of the Eternal 
 City. The general altitude of the city- 
 plot is forty feet above the river, but this 
 is diversified by irregular elevations, which 
 serve to give variety and commanding 
 sites for the j^ublic 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 j^resident's 
 house and the capitol stand centrally with 
 regard to the wliole, though situated at 
 the distance of one mile from each other, 
 the former forty-four feet above the Poto- 
 mac, and the latter seventy-two feet. All 
 the puljlic 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, which cross the 
 streets at various angles and connect the 
 most important points of the cit}', 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 
 
 SVMBOLIC eXATCE OF AMERICA 8UKMUUNT1NO 
 THE U. S. CAPITOL. 
 
 most noble view presents itself to the eye 
 of the beholder that the imagination can 
 conceive. On the fourth of Jul}', 1851, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 173 
 
 the corner-stone of that niaf^jiiificciit ex- 
 tension of the Capitol which lias rendered 
 it the most superb structure of its kind in 
 the world, was laid with splendid ceremo- 
 nial, including a commemorative oration 
 liy President Fillmore, assisted by Daniel 
 AVebster, 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 uj)- 
 turned, and this deposit brought to the 
 eyes of men, be it then known that on 
 tliis 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 glor}-, 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 happi- 
 ness of the country, unite in sincere and 
 fervent prayer that this de[)osit, and the 
 walls and arches, tlie domes and towers, 
 the columns and entablatures, now to 
 be erected over it, may endure forever ! 
 God Save the Uxited States of 
 
 A_MEKICA ! " 
 
XVI. 
 
 DEATH OF GEORGE WASHINGTON.— 1799. 
 
 Mis Sudden and Brief Illness, Last Hours, and Hying 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 Flarly Death. — His Invariably Good Health — Exposure in a Snow-Storni — 
 Takes a Fatal Cold. — Last Letter Written by His Hand — Reads the Papers in the Evening. — Char- 
 acteristic Reply to Mis 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 ISoT — Appearance of His 
 Remains. 
 
 •' Posteritv will tilk of Wn«liin'.'tnn with rrvorpnce. Ds the founder of a p'-eaf 
 cni|iirc. when my name shall be lost in the vortex of icvolution.'-NArOLEOK lio- 
 
 KAPAKTE. 
 
 ^9m ASHINGTON is dead ! " were the appalling words which, with the 
 fading out of tlie eighteenth century, brought home to every 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, — 
 tlie tidings moved the nation's heart to profound amazement and sorrow, and deeji an- 
 swered unto deep, in the universal wail of a bereaved and stricken republic. If a 
 nation's prayers could have prevailed, Washington — Columbia's most honored, venerated, 
 and renowned son, — would have been immortal on earth. But the ordinance of divine 
 wi.sdom 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 AVashington, 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 Avith 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 v.ncertainty 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'Henry, secretary of war, he wrote, but a few months prior to his 
 decease : " Mj-^ greatest anxiety is to have all these concerns in such a clear and distinct 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 175 
 
 form, that no reproach may attach itself to 
 me when I liave 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 shall 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 enjoyment 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 day, the eleventh, was bluster- 
 ing and rainy ; and at night, as Washing- 
 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 past 
 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 tlie 
 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 liair. 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 from being so much exposed 
 the day before, and complained of a sore 
 throat. He, however, went out in the 
 afternoon into the ground between tlie 
 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 very unwell, and had had an ague. 
 She observed that he could scarcely speak, 
 
 O^ 
 
 Ar^^ 
 
 and breathed with difficult}', 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 
 
176 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 ■woman (Caroline) went into tlie 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 toliis chamber. Mrs. Washing- 
 ton was then up, and related to me his 
 being 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- 
 jieared 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 Rawlius 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, 
 he 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 
 tliat nothing would go down the throat, I 
 proposed bathing it externally with ml 
 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 
 Di*. 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 physicians 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 jirivate 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 ui)on 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 
 otlier, 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 177 
 
 was in the room dur- 
 ing the day ; and in the afternoon, the 
 general directed him to sit down, as he had 
 been standing ahnost 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 the room, and, 
 upon going to the bedside, the general said 
 to him, 
 
 " Doctor, I die hard, but 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 retired 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 up in 
 
 the bed. He held out his hand, and I 
 12 
 
 '^ I feel r)iyself going : 
 I thank you for your 
 attentions ; hut I pray you to take no more 
 trouble about tne. Let me go off quietly. 
 I cannot last lortgP 
 
 About ten o'clock he made several at- 
 tempts to speak to me before he could 
 effect it. At length he said, 
 
 " I am just going. Have me decently 
 buried ; and do not let my body be put 
 into the vault in less than three days after 
 I am dead." 
 
 I bowed assent, for I could not speak. 
 He then looked at me again and said, 
 
 " Do you understand me ? " 
 
 " Yes," I replied. 
 
 '"Tis WELL," said he; the last words 
 which he ever uttered on earth. 
 
 With surprising self-jjossession he pre- 
 pared to die — composing his form at full 
 length, and folding his arms on his bosom. 
 
 About ten minutes before he expired 
 (which was between ten and eleven o'clock 
 Saturday evening), his breathing became 
 easier. He lay quietly ; he withdrew his 
 hand from mine, and felt his own pulse. 
 
178 
 
 OUR riEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 I saw liis countenance change. I spoke to 
 Dr. Craik, wlio sat by the tire. He came 
 to the bedside. The general's hand fell 
 from his wrist. I took it in mine, and 
 pressed it to my bosom. Dr. Craik put 
 his hands over liis eyes, and he expired 
 without a struggle or a sigh, December 
 fourteenth, 1799, in the sixty-eighth year 
 of his age, after an illness of twenty-four 
 hours. 
 
 Wliile we were fixed in silent grief, 
 Mrs. Washington, who was sitting at the 
 foot of the bed, asked with a firm and 
 collected voice, " Is he gone ? " I could 
 not speak, but held up my hand as a signal 
 that he was no more. '' 'Tis well," said 
 she, in the same voice, " all is now over ; 
 I shall soon follow him ; I liave no more 
 trials to pass through." 
 
 The disease of which Washington died 
 was what is now technically called " acute 
 laryngitis," a disease of very rare occur- 
 rence. 
 
 OEOROE WASHINarON, AS COLONEL. 
 
 About twelve o'clock, the body was car- 
 ried down stairs, and laid out in the large 
 drawing-room ; the burial taking place the 
 next AVednesday, December 18th, his 
 mortal remains being deposited in the 
 family vault at jVIount Vernon. The 
 sudden tidings of liis death fell like a do- 
 mestic sorrow upon the hearts of the 
 people ; lamentations and solemn obsequies 
 filled the land, — and, throughout the whole 
 world, the event was heard with the deep- 
 est emotion. 
 
 Nearly forty years after Washington's 
 
 death and burial, his remains, together 
 with those of his wife, were re-entombed, 
 in order to their being placed in the 
 marble coffins which had been generously 
 offered for that jjurpose by a i^atriotic citi- 
 zen of Philadelphia, to the legal represen- 
 tatives of the departed chieftain. This 
 was in 1837. At the time of Washino;- 
 ton's interment, December 18, 1799, his 
 body was placed in a mahogany coffin lined 
 with lead, soldered at the joints, with a 
 cover of lead to be soldered on after the 
 body should be in the vault. The coffin 
 was put into a case, lined and covered 
 with black cloth. 
 
 On entering the tomb and examining 
 the coffin, on the occasion in question, it 
 was found that the lid had become dis- 
 placed and broken, and the silver shield 
 which had originally surmounted the lid 
 had dropped down into the case. At the 
 request of Major Lewis, who was one of 
 the family group to witness the re-entomb- 
 ment, the fractured part of the lid Avas 
 turned over on the lower part, exposing to 
 view a head and breast of large dimen- 
 sions, which appeared, by the dim light of 
 the candles, to have suffered but little 
 from the effects of time. The eye-sockets 
 Avere large and deep, and the breadth 
 across the temples, together with the fore- 
 head, appeared of unusual size. There 
 was no appearance of grave-clothes ; the 
 chest was broad, the color was dark, and 
 there was the appearance of dried flesh 
 and skin adhering closely to the bones. 
 
 The ancient family vault, in which 
 Washington's remains fii\st reposed, was 
 situated under the shade of a small grove 
 of forest trees, a short distance from the 
 family mansion of Mount Vernon, and 
 near the brow of the precipitous bank of 
 the Potomac. Diminutive and unadorned, 
 this humble sepulchre stood in a most 
 romantic and picturesque spot, and, on ac- 
 count of its prominent locality, could be 
 distinctly seen by travelers, as they passed 
 in steamboats up and down the river. 
 
 But the ashes of the father of his coun- 
 try were in course of time removed from 
 that place, to a lot near the corner of a 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 179 
 
 beautiful enclosure, where the river is con- 
 cealed from view. This site was selected 
 by Washington himself, in the later years 
 of his life, for a tomb. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to cite the opin- 
 ions held by the illustrious men of Amer- 
 ica concerning Washington. Those opin- 
 ions, held and shared by all, from the 
 highest to the humblest citizen, may all 
 be summed up in that grand apotheosis of 
 eulogy, namely, that he was "First in 
 War, First in Peace, First in the 
 Hearts of His Countrymen." It will 
 be of interest, however, in this place, 
 to glance at the estimate of Washing- 
 ton held by some of the great historic 
 characters of the old world, — kings, queens, 
 nobles, and orators. 
 
 AVhen Napoleon w^as about to embark 
 for Egypt, some American gentlemen who 
 happened to be at Toulon, being anxious 
 for an interview with the mighty Corsi- 
 can, obtained an introduction to him. 
 Scarcely were the customary salutations 
 exchanged, when lie eagerly asked — 
 
 "How fares your countryman, the great 
 Washington ? " 
 
 " He was very well, general, when we 
 left America," rej^lied the travelers. 
 
 "Ah, gentlemen," rejoined the man of 
 destiny, "Washington can never be other- 
 wise than well. The measure of his fame 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON, GENERAL U. S. A. 
 
 is full. Posterity will talk of him with 
 reverence as the founder of a great empire, 
 when my name shall be lost in the vortex 
 of revolutions." 
 
 Marie Antoinette, queen of France, was 
 
 a great admirer of the heroism and per- 
 sonal character of Washington, though 
 not in sympathy with his political princi- 
 ples. Wishing to send to him a royd 
 
 PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 gift in token of her appreciation of his 
 great merits, she consulted Lafayette as to 
 the form of presentation, citing the terms 
 used on similar occasions, in addressing 
 kings and other monarchs. Lafayette 
 mildly objected to those terms, as being 
 not altogether suitable in the present case, 
 saying: "They, madam, Avere only kings. 
 Washington is the General of a free na- 
 tion," — a sentiment to which the gentle- 
 mannered queen at once yielded a most 
 gracious assent, in deference to the ac- 
 knowledged pre-eminence of Washington. 
 Lord Erskine, in writing to Washington 
 from London, said : " I have taken the 
 liberty to introduce your august and im- 
 mortal name in a short sentence, which is 
 to be found in a book I send 3'^ou. I have 
 a large acquaintance among the most val- 
 uable and exalted classes of men ; but you 
 are the only human being for whom I have 
 ever felt an awful reverence. I sincerely 
 pray God to grant you a long and serene 
 evening to a life so gloriously devoted to 
 the universal happiness of the world." 
 
180 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 In tlie year 1780, Frederick the Great, 
 king of Prussia, presented General Wash- 
 ington with a picture of his majesty taken 
 to the life, and inscribed underneath with 
 the words — 
 
 *' From the oldest general in Europe, to 
 the (jreatest general on earth.^ 
 
 Charles James Fox, the renowned Brit- 
 ish premier, declared of Washington, in 
 the presence of parliament: ''How infi- 
 nitely wiser must aj^pear the spirit and 
 principles manifested in his late addresses 
 to congress than the policy of modern Eu- 
 ropean courts ! Illustrious man ! deriving 
 honor less from the splendor of his situa- 
 tion than from the dignity of his mind; 
 before whom all borrowed greatness sinks 
 into insignificance, and all the potentates 
 of Europe — excepting the members of our 
 own royal family — ^become little and con- 
 tem^itible. I can not, indeed, help admir- 
 ing the wisdom and fortune of this great 
 man. A character, of virtues so happily 
 tempered by one another, and so wholly 
 unalloyed by any vices, is hardly to be 
 found on the pages of history. For him it 
 has been reserved to run the race of glory, 
 without experiencing the smallest inter- 
 ruption to the brilliancy of his career." 
 
 When the news of Washington's death 
 reached France, Napoleon announced the 
 event to his army, and ordered black cra2')e 
 to be suspended from all the flags and 
 standards in the French service for ten 
 days ; and, on the eighth of February, 
 1800, M. DeFontanes, by direction of Na- 
 poleon, pronounced a funeral oration in 
 honor of Washington, in the presence of 
 Bonaparte and the great dignitaries of the 
 realm, in which oration the illustrious de- 
 ceased was declared to be " a character 
 worthy the best days of antiquity." 
 
 Of Washington's personal appearance, 
 little further need be remarked than that 
 it comported entirely with the solid gran- 
 deur of his character. In respect to ]^hg- 
 sique, no man could have been better 
 formed for command. A stature some- 
 what exceeding six feet, a full but admir- 
 ably-proportioned frame, calculated to 
 sustain fatigue, without that heaviness 
 
 which generally attends great muscular 
 strength and abates active exertion, dis- 
 played bodily power of no mean standard. 
 A light gray eye and full, firm forehead, 
 Roman nose ; his mouth was peculiar of its 
 
 TOMB OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 class — the lips firm, and the untlet jaw 
 seeming to grasp the upper with force, as 
 if its muscles were in full action when he 
 sat still. It was Washington's habit to 
 fasten his eyes calmly and steadily upon 
 those who wore ushered into his presence, 
 whether friend or foe, nor was it a slight 
 ordeal thus to meet his penetrating gaze. 
 His limbs wore long, large, and sinewy, 
 and his frame was of equal breadth from 
 the shoulders to the hips ; his joints were 
 large, as were also his feet, and the great 
 size of his hand never failed to attract 
 attention. His gait and tread was that of 
 a jn-acticed soldier; liis deportment inva- 
 riably grave and reserved ; his speech 
 sparing and deliberate. At home he wore 
 the usual dress of a citizen ; on state occa- 
 sions, he dressed in a full suit of the rich- 
 est black velvet, with diamond knee- 
 buckles, and square silver buckles set 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 181 
 
 upon shoes japanned witli the most scru- 
 pulous neatness, bhick silk stockings, his 
 shirt rufiled at the breast and wrists, a 
 light dress sword, his hair profusely pow- 
 dered, full}' dressed, so as to project at tlie 
 sides, and gathered behind in a silk bag, 
 
 ornamented with a large rose of black 
 ribbon. In the prime of life, Washington 
 stood six feet two inches, and weighed 
 nearly two hundred and twenty pounds ; 
 he measured precisely six feet when at- 
 tired for the grave. 
 
XYII. 
 
 PUNISHMENT AND COMPLETE DEGRADATION OF THE 
 BARBARY STATES BY THE YOUNG REPUBLIC— 1803. 
 
 Tribute Exacted of all the Nations of Christendom, by tlie Piratical Powers. — The Thunder of American 
 Cannon before their Cities — Ignominious Submission of Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli. — Tiieir 
 Audacious Corsairs Vanquisiied and Driven in Terror from the Seas. — A Boon to the Civilized 
 World. — Barbary a Nation of Freebooters. — All Commerce at their Mercy. — The United States 
 Unknown to Them. — Its Flag Descried on the Ocean. — Fresh Plunder Anticipated. — Seizure of 
 American Ships. — Retaliation by the Yankees — Tripoli's Flag Struck at Last. — Treaty between the 
 Belligerents — New Exactions by the Algerines. — Retribution in Store for Them — A United States 
 Frigate in the Pirate Haunts. — Grounding of the Philadelphia. — Her Triumphant Capture by the 
 Enemy. — Their Boisterous Exultation. — Decatur Burns Her During the Night. — Fierce Rage of the 
 Turks. — Bombardment of Tripoli — How " Christian Dogs " were Viewed. — Peace Sued for by the 
 Despots. — Their Duplicity and Treachery. — America's "Tribute" is Powder and Balls. 
 
 "If you insist upon receiving powder as tribute, you must expect to receive balls with it I "—Commodore Decatur to the Barbabt 
 Government. 
 
 U. 8. TKIItUTE TO 
 HAItHAKY. 
 
 ONSIDERINGr the peculiar weakness and insignificance of the 
 Barbary States, as a military power, it may well appear strange to the 
 reader of history, at the present day, that, almost to the ojjening of 
 the nineteenth century, nearly all the maritime nations of the earth 
 paid tribute to that power, in order to appease the insolence and ob- 
 tain exemption from the ravages of their piratical cruisers. The gov- 
 ernment of England or of France might, as has been truly remarked, 
 have stopped this system of piracy long before, by one peremi)tory word ; 
 liut, as the corsairs committed their dejiredations chiefly in the Med- 
 iterranean, those two countries had no special inducement to interfere. And there was 
 always some jealous calculation of advantage, — some pitiful project of turning them to 
 future account, — which prevented decisive action on the part of either nation. Then 
 the wars whicli followed the French Revolution kept Europe busy at home, and gave 
 the Barbary sailors the opportunity of pursuing their calling for a few years longer 
 with impunity. Tlie Engli.sh, with large fleets and naval stations in the Mediterranean, 
 hail nothing to fear from tliem, and were, probablv, not much displeased with the con- 
 tributions levied upon the commerce of other nations. French merchantmen kept at 
 home. Spain, Sweden, Denmark, and Holland tried to outbid one another for the favor 
 of the bey, dey, and pacha, and were robbed and enslaved whenever it suited the inter- 
 ests of their highnesses. The Portuguese ])rudently kept out of reach, and protected 
 their coast by guarding the Straits of Gibraltar. It was a long time, comparatively, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 183 
 
 before their liighnesses were made ac- 
 quainted Avitli tlie fact of there beiiij; u 
 sovereignty called the United States. 
 
 In course of time, the piratical cruisers 
 descried a new Hag floating jjroudl}' from 
 the mast-head of heavy-freighted craft 
 plowing their way gallantly through the 
 blue waters; but, though its ap[)earance 
 was liailed with avaricious jo}-, as insuring 
 additional harvests of plunder, it was soon 
 to seal their doom, and scatter them, af- 
 frighted and disnia3^ed, from the high seas. 
 
 Few subjects had excited more irritation 
 among the people as well as the authori- 
 ties of the government of the United 
 States, up to this period of their national 
 independence, than this lawless and out- 
 rageous captivity of their fellow-citizens 
 
 in Algiers. 
 
 It may well be supposed, however, that 
 no such galling 3'oke could long be worn 
 or borne by a free people ; and it was not 
 long, therefore, before Washington recom- 
 mended the construction of a naval arma- 
 ment adequate to the protection of the 
 commerce of the United States against the 
 depredations committed by the dey's cor- 
 sairs, and this proposal eventually received 
 the sanction of congress. The act pro- 
 vided for four frigates of forty-four guns 
 €ach, and two of thirty-six guns each, and 
 in due time they were built, manned and 
 equipped, and put in commission, to vindi- 
 cate the rights and liberties of the Amer- 
 ican flag. 
 
 There was retribution in store for the 
 Barbary States, to be dealt out to them by 
 the youngest and most remote in the 
 family of nations ! 
 
 The naval squadron intended for this 
 purpose consisted of the frigate President, 
 commanded by Commodore Dale, the 
 frigate Philadelphia, commanded by Cap- 
 tain Barron, the frigate Essex, under 
 Captain Bainbridge, and the schooner En- 
 terprise, Lieutenant Commandant Sterrett. 
 In obedience to instructions from Commo- 
 dore Dale, Bainbridge a])peared off the 
 cities of Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli ; and 
 during the winter and spring of 1802, 
 cruised in different jiarts of the Mediterra- 
 
 nean, and cnnvoyed the United States 
 merchant vessels issuing from various 
 l)orts, out of that infested sea. After this 
 ])eriod of service, Commodore Dale w.as 
 succeeded in his command, first by Com- 
 
 modore Richard V. INIorris, ai:d subse- 
 quently by Commodore Preble. The 
 Essex, appearing unseaworthy, was sent 
 home. It should also be here mentioned, 
 that, on the sixth of August, 1801, the 
 Enterprise fell in with a Tripolitan ship of 
 war of equal force; the action continued 
 three hours and a half, the corsair fight- 
 ing with great obstinacy, and even des- 
 peration, until she struck, liaving lost fifty 
 killed and woimded, while the Enterprise 
 had not a man injured. This was the 
 first Tripolitan ship-of-war, and indeed 
 the first armed vessel of any of the Bar- 
 bary powers, which ever struck to the 
 American flag. 
 
 Not only did the United States now 
 determine to protect its maritime rights as 
 a commercial j)0wer, but it resolved to 
 pursue the matter aggressively, and 
 punish the insolence of the piratical bar- 
 barians Avho thus assumed to dictate to 
 Christendom. Under Commodore Preble, 
 the squadron consisted of the frigate Phil- 
 adelphia, of forty-four guns, commanded 
 by Bainbridge ; the frigate Constitution, 
 of forty-four guns, commanded l)y Preble ; 
 the brig Syren, of twelve guns, commanded 
 by Stewart; and the s(-hooners Vixen, 
 Nautilus, Argus, and Enterprise, of twelve 
 
184 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 to sixteen guns each, and commanded re- 
 spectivel}^ by Lieutenants Smith, Somers, 
 Hull, and Decatur. Their orders were to 
 humble and punish the Barbary sover- 
 eigns. 
 
 While going up the Mediterranean, the 
 Philadelphia descried, on the coast of 
 Spain, near Cape de Gatte, a ship car- 
 rying only her foresail, with a brig in 
 company. It being night, and the guns 
 of the craft being housed, it was not easy 
 to at once discover her true character. 
 After repeatedly hailing, she proved to be 
 a ship-of-war from Barbary, on whicli in- 
 formation, Bainbridge ordered her boat to 
 be sent on board the Philadeljihia, with 
 her papers ; the latter showed that she 
 was a cruiser belonging to the emperor of 
 Morocco, and called the Meshboha, com- 
 manded by Ibrahim Lubarez, mounting 
 twenty-two guns, and carrying one hun- 
 dred and twenty men. 
 
 By not making themselves known, on 
 board the Philadelphia, to the Moorish 
 officer who jiresented himself, the latter 
 made free to say that the brig in company 
 was American, and had been with them 
 three or four days, was bound to some port 
 in Spain, and had been boarded by them, 
 but not detained. The small sail, how- 
 ever, which the brig was under, induced 
 Bainbridge to suspect that she had been 
 captured ; he therefore sent his first lieu- 
 tenant on board the pirate, to see if there 
 were any American prisoners. 
 
 C<:i^(^\j<jiyycC^ 
 
 Bainbridge instantly ordered all the 
 Moorish officers and crew on board the 
 Philadelphia. Owing to the high wind 
 and sea, the greater part of the night was 
 thus occupied in getting the jjrisoners on 
 board and manning the prize, by which 
 detention the brig was lost sight of, nor 
 was she discovered again until late in the 
 afternoon of the ensuing day, when she 
 was met coming round Cape de Gatte from 
 the eastward, standing close in shore for 
 Almira Bay ; but in consequence of light 
 winds, she was not re-caj^tured until mid- 
 night. The Moors confessed that they 
 came out for the sole purpose of cruising 
 for, and capturing, American vessels. On 
 the morning after the capture, the Moor- 
 ish commander was requested to exhibit 
 the orders which authorized him to cap- 
 ture American vessels, to which he replied, 
 that he had none. To the question, why 
 
 he had captured the brig, he answered, 
 that as there was some misunderstanding 
 between his master and the United States 
 consul, at Tangier, he was induced to 
 commit this act, in anticipation of the war, 
 which he thought was inevitable. Cap- 
 tain Bainbridge observed to him, that if 
 such had been his intention previously to 
 sailing, he ought not, as an honorable 
 officer, to have availed himself of the pro' 
 tection of the consul's passports, which, 
 from all appearances, were obtained with 
 the view of practicing a deception on the 
 
GREAT AND MEMORAl'.LE EVENTS. 
 
 185 
 
 BURNING OF THE PHILADELPHIA, 
 
 United States cruisers. Captain Bain- 
 bridge expressed an unwillingness to be- 
 lieve him capable of acting thus dishonor- 
 ably, and therefore must presume that 
 this violation of national faith was com- 
 mitted under the authority of the emperor. 
 The Moorish commander, still persisting 
 in his first denial, Captain Bainbridge 
 turned upon him, and sternly remarked — 
 
 " Then, sir, I must consider you a 
 pirate, and will be obliged to treat you as 
 such." 
 
 Bainbridge now pulled out his watch, 
 showed Lubarez the hour, and stated in an 
 impressive tone, that he was about to Ansit 
 the quarter-deck for half an hour, and if 
 his authority for depredating on the com- 
 merce of the United States was not forth- 
 coming on his return, he would immedi- 
 ately hang him to the main yard, as a 
 pirate and malefactor. At the appointed 
 time, Captain Bainbridge returned to the 
 cabin with watch in hand, and his deter- 
 mined purpose manifest in every look and 
 movement. Startled at the course which 
 things seemed to be taking, the Moor has- 
 tily proceeded to unbutton several waist- 
 coats, and, from the inside pocket of the 
 fifth, drew out the secret document, the 
 nature of which confirmed the American 
 commander's suspicions. Lubarez was a 
 
 man of education, great dignity, and had 
 for many years represented the emperor of 
 Morocco, as minister at the courts of 
 France and Spain. His capture was most 
 timely. 
 
 The attention of Commodore Preble 
 was first directed toward Morocco, and 
 anchoring at Tangier with a part of his 
 squadron, in October, 1803, he humbled 
 the emperor by proposing such terms, and 
 insisting on their acceptance, as placed the 
 relations of the United States with that 
 power on a greatly-improved footing. 
 
 Most of the armament was now to be 
 concentrated before Tripoli. On arriving 
 off that port, the Philadelphia, Captain 
 Bainbridge, was sent into the harbor to 
 reconnoiter. While in eager pursuit of a 
 small vessel, he unfortunately advanced so 
 far that the frigate grounded on a ledge of 
 rocks, in plain sight of the enemy, and all 
 attempts to remove her were absolutely 
 in vain. The sea around her was imme- 
 diately covered with Tripolitan gunboats, 
 and Bainbridge Avas compelled to surren- 
 der, the ship being a perfect wreck, and 
 exposed to the constant fire of the gun- 
 boats for more than five hours. Immedi- 
 ate possession was taken of the frigate, 
 she being entered at every point, and an 
 indiscriminate plunder ensuing. 
 
186 
 
 OUR FIRST CEXTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Lieutenant Stephen Decatur, a gallant 
 officer of the besieging squadron, early 
 proposed a plan for re-capturing or de- 
 stroying the Philadelphia, and, accord- 
 ingly, Commodore Preble directed him to 
 proceed in the ketch Intrepid, carrying 
 four guns and seventy-five men, under the 
 escort of the Sj-ren, Captain Stewart, in 
 the prosecution of his plan. 
 
 The Philadelphia lay within half gun- 
 shot of the governor's palace, and several 
 cruisers and gun-boats surrounded her with 
 jealous vigilance. The Intrepid entered 
 the harbor alone, about eight o'clock in 
 the evening, and in a short time succeeded 
 in getting near the Philadelphia, without 
 having awakened susjjicions of any hostile 
 design being under way. The Intrepid 
 was a vessel wdiich had been captured from 
 the Tripolitans, and, assuming on this oc- 
 casion her former national appearance, 
 was permitted to warp alongside, under 
 the alleged pretense tliat she had lost all 
 her anchors. The moment the vessel 
 came in contact, Decatur and his followers 
 leaped on board, and soon overwhelmed a 
 crew that was paralyzed with consterna- 
 tion. Twenty of the Tripolitans were 
 killed. All the surrounding batteries 
 being opened upon the Philadelphia, she 
 was immediate!}' set on fire, and not aban- 
 doned until thorouglily wrapped inflames; 
 
 C^^i^^''. N^v^V 
 
 Ct^*T.<^fX-^ C 
 
 C^^?^^^^^ 
 
 when, a favoring breeze springing up, the 
 Intrepid extricated herself from her prey, 
 and sailed triumphantly out of the harbor 
 
 amid the light of the conflagration. Not 
 the slightest loss of life occurred on the 
 side of the Americans to shade the splen- 
 dor of the enterprise. One seaman re- 
 ceived a severe wound, under peculiar 
 circumstances. It appears that as soon as 
 the Intrepid was warped alongside the 
 Philadelphia, Decatur sprang on board, 
 quickly followed by the other officers and 
 men. Instantly, the brave commander, 
 with his gallant comrades, rushed, sword 
 in hand, on the enemy, who were crowded 
 together on the forecastle, and killed or 
 drove into the sea the whole gang. In the 
 first desperate struggle, Decatur was dis- 
 armed and fell, momentarily overpowered 
 in the sanguinary melee. A saber was 
 already lifted to strike the fatal blow, 
 when this heroic seaman, observing the 
 perilous situation of his officer, reached 
 forward, and received the blow of the 
 saber on his arm. 
 
 It is recorded that nothing could exceed 
 the rage of the sovereign, at the loss of 
 his valuable prize. Barbarian-like, he 
 ordered the prison to be immediately sur- 
 rounded by guards, and interrupted all 
 intercourse between the officers and men. 
 They were also conducted under a strong 
 guard to the castle, and confined in a 
 cold and damp ai:)artment, with only 
 one ojiening at the top, which was grated 
 with iron; light and air came through 
 this aperture solely. Thus they were 
 entombed during the remaindei of their 
 captivity. 
 
 Determined now to try the effect of a 
 bombardment, Preble brought together all 
 his forces before Tripoli, in July, 1804. 
 The enemy having sent some gun-boats 
 and galleys Avithout the reef at the mouth 
 of the harbor, two divisions of American 
 gun-boats were formed for the purpose of 
 attacking them, while the large vessels 
 assailed the batteries and town. Early in 
 August, the American squadron aj)- 
 proached within gun-shot of the town, and 
 opened a tremendous fire of shot and 
 shells, which was as promptly returned by 
 the Tripolitan batteries and shipping. At 
 the same time, the two divisions of gun- 
 
GREAT AND MEM0RAI5LE EVENTS. 
 
 187 
 
 BOMBAKDMENT OF TRIPOLI. 
 
 boats, the first under the command of 
 Captain Richard Somers, the second under 
 Captain Stejjhen Decatur, who had been 
 promoted as a reward for his late achieve- 
 ment, advanced against tliose of the 
 enemy. The squadron was about two 
 hours under tlie enemy's batteries, gener- 
 ally within pistol-shot, ranging by them in 
 deliberate succession, alternately silencing 
 their fires, and launching its thunders into 
 the very palace of royalty, while a 3'et 
 more animated battle Avas raging in an- 
 other quarter. What the Turks them- 
 selves thought of these demonstrations 
 may be judged from the fact that the gov- 
 ernor, affecting at first to despise his 
 assailants and their attack, was soon glad 
 to run in dismay to a bomb-proof apart- 
 ment in his castle. The sons of the 
 prophet said, in their rage : — 
 
 "The English, French and Spanish 
 consuls, have told us that they are a young 
 nation, and got their independence by 
 means of France ; that they had a small 
 navy and their officers were inexperienced, 
 and that the}^ were merely a nation of 
 merchants, and that, by taking their ships 
 and men, we should get great ransoms. 
 
 Instead of this, their Pi-eble pays us a 
 coin of shot, shells, and hard blows; and 
 sent a Decatur, in a dark night, with a 
 band of Christian dogs fierce and cruel 
 as the tiger, who killed our brothers and 
 burnt our ships before our eyes." 
 
 Preble now planned to send a fire-ship 
 into the enemy's harbor. The Intrepid 
 was fitted out for this service, filled with 
 combustible and explosive materials. The 
 brave Captain Somers was appointed to 
 conduct her, under suitable convoy, to the 
 mouth of the harbor ; choice was also made 
 of two of the fleetest boats in the squad- 
 ron, manned with picked crews, to bring 
 them out. At eight o'clock in the even- 
 ing she stood into the harbor with a mod- 
 erate breeze. Several shots were fired at 
 her from the batteries. She had nearly 
 gained her place of destination when she 
 exploded, without having made any of the 
 signals previously concerted to show that 
 all was well. Night hung over the dread- 
 ful catastrophe, and left the whole squad- 
 ron a prey to the most painful anxiety. 
 The convo}^ hovered about the harbor until 
 sunrise, when no remains could be discov- 
 ered either of the Intrepid or her boats. 
 
188 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Doubt was now turned into fatal certaintj^, 
 — she had premature!}' blown up ! This 
 event was deeply deplored in the United 
 States, and, in memory of the heroic dead, 
 there has been erected a beautiful Doric 
 monument in the capitol grounds at 
 Washington. 
 
 Soon after these events. Commodore 
 Barron succeeded Preble in command, and 
 it being understood that re-enforcements 
 and another attack were near at hand, the 
 Turkish ruler came to terms, and desired 
 to make peace. 
 
 True to their characteristic duplicity 
 and treachery, the Algerine authorities, on 
 the breaking-out of war between England 
 and the United States, took advantage of 
 the presumed disabilities of the latter, re- 
 sumed their system of piracies and extorting 
 tribute-money and presents. Two squad- 
 rons were duly fitted out by the American 
 government, and were commanded by 
 Commodores Decatur and Bainbridge. 
 Appearing before Algiers, Decatur sent 
 the model of a treaty to the governor, de- 
 manding instant agreement. The Turk 
 thought it hard to liave to relinquish his 
 tribute-money and presents of every sort, 
 and intimated that he would at least like 
 to receive a supply of powder. " 7/"," re- 
 
 plied Decatur, " you insist upon receiving 
 powder as tribute, you must expect to re- 
 ceive halls ivith it ! " The governor turned 
 pale at this stern language, and was glad 
 enough to yield to the terms dictated by 
 the intrepid negotiator. 
 
 Thus, before the authorities of Barbary 
 had received any intimation of the restor- 
 ation of peace between Britain and Amer- 
 ica, the American squadron appeared 
 before their capitals ; had captui-ed several 
 of their vessels ; compelled the governor of 
 Algiers to submit to the indignity of sign- 
 ing, on Decatur's quarter-deck, a humiliat- 
 ing treaty; obliged Tunis to refund the 
 amount of American property which they 
 permitted the English cruisers to take out 
 of their harbor; and exacted of Tripoli an 
 apology for the insult offered to the United 
 States consul, and again to hoist the re- 
 public's flag over the consul's house, 
 accompanied by a salute of twenty-four 
 guns. The submission of these powers 
 was complete. They bound themselves to 
 make indemnity for past extortions ; to 
 surrender every prisoner without ransom; 
 and to renounce all claim for tribute from 
 the American government, as well as their 
 barbarous practice of piracy and reducing 
 prisoners to slavery. 
 
XYIII. 
 
 FATAL DUEL BETWEEN MR. BURR AND GENERAL 
 ALEXANDER HAMILTON.— 1804. 
 
 Fall of Hamilton at First Fire. — His Death in Thirty Hours. — Profound Sensation and Solemn Obse- 
 quies in all Parts of tlie Land. — Mourned as one of the Founders of the Republic. — Indictment of the 
 Assassin for the Crime of Murder. — Hamilton's Brilliant Public Life. — Washington's Right-hand Man. 
 — Champion of the Federalists. — Burr's Career in the Revolution. — His Notorious Debauchery. — Fi- 
 nally Dismissed by Washington. — Becomes Vice-President in 1800. — Deadly Personal Hatreds. — 
 
 . Criticisms on Burr by His Opponents. — Challenge Sent to Hamilton. — Pacific Explanations 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 Conduct 
 of Burr. — A Fugitive and an Outlaw. 
 
 Ccesar to Antony • 
 
 *'Lpt the old ruffian know 
 
 1 have iiuuiv olher ways to die; meantime, 
 
 Laugh at his challenge."— Ant. & Cleo., Act. 4, Sc. 1. 
 
 Y far the most exciting personal transac- 
 tion that occurred among the first genera- 
 tion of American statesmen and politi- 
 cians, was the duel fought in July, 1804, 
 between Colonel Aaron Burr, at that time 
 vice-president of the United States, and 
 General Alexander Hamilton, formerly 
 secretary of the treasury, during the ad- 
 ministration of Washington ; and in which 
 duel Hamilton fell mortally wounded, his 
 country being thus deprived of its most 
 brilliant ornament. 
 
 Of transcendent abilities and unsullied 
 official integrity, it may be said of the 
 victim in this murderous tragedy, that no 
 one labored more efficiently than he, in the 
 organization of the present federal govern- 
 ment. At the age of nineteen lie entered 
 the revolutionary army, and in 1777 was 
 appointed aid-de-camp of General Wash- 
 ington,with the rank of lieutenant-colonel. 
 MONUMENT TO ALEXANDER HA.MiLTON. In tlils capaclty liB scrved duHug the re- 
 
 mainder of the war, and at the siege of Yorktown led in person the detachment 
 that carried by assault one of the British outworks. When his military services 
 were no longer required, he commenced the study of the law, entered into its prac- 
 
190 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 that framed the federal 
 constihition. 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, by 
 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 them ; the disturb- 
 ances being quelled without bloodshed, he 
 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 de- 
 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. 
 
 i^^f^ 
 
 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- 
 quently, in 1776, he was received by 
 Washington as one of his military family, 
 but was soon cast off by that stern moral- 
 ist in consequence of his debauchery. 
 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, of 
 which state he was made attorney-general 
 in 1789. From 1791 to 1797, he was a 
 United States senator. In 1800, he was a 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 191 
 
 candidate for the 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; liis 
 face was handsome, by some described as 
 striking, and eyes jet-blaclc 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 scliolar, 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 b}^ various biogra- 
 phers, and perhaps not always impartiall3^ 
 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 Avas 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 
 
 accused of intriguing with them for the 
 purpose. 
 
 It is believed that Burr, from this time 
 forth, bfcaine 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, jirimarily, 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 P. 
 Van Ness, a young lawyer, one of his most 
 attached partisans, and not less dark, de- 
 signing, cool, and implacable than himself. 
 Van Ness Avas 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 Cooj^er's assertions. 
 
 Hamilton expressed a perfect readiness to 
 avow or disavow an_y specific opinion which 
 he might be charged with having uttered ; 
 but added that he never would consent to be 
 interrogated generally as to whether he had 
 ever said anj-thing in the course of fifteen 
 years of political competition to justify in- 
 ferences Avhich others might have drawn, 
 thus exposing his candor and sincerit}' to 
 injurious imjiutations 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 you have adopted. I 
 trust, on more reflection, you will see the 
 matter in the same light. If not, I can 
 
192 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 only regret the circumstance, and must 
 abide the consequences." 
 
 Burr's curt, rude, and offensive reply 
 began with intimating that Hamilton's 
 letter was greatly deficient in that sincer- 
 ity and delicacy which he i>rofessed so 
 much to value. The epithet in question, 
 in the common understanding of it, im- 
 plied dishonor. It having been affixed to 
 Burr's name upon Hamilton's authorit}', 
 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 his murderous 
 designs, Hamilton caused a 2:)aper 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 an}' other j^articular 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 predotor- 
 mined hostility, Burr requested Van Ness 
 to deliver a challenjje. 
 
 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 awa}', to sing the 
 only song he ever sang or knew, the 
 famous old ballad of "The Drum." It 
 was thought afterward, that he M'as more 
 reluctant than usual to comply with the 
 company's request ; but after some delay, 
 he said, '' Well, you 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 jn-esident. 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 Avas, 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, surveyed 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 position, as also to determine by 
 whom the word should be given, both of 
 wliich fell to the seconds of Hamilton. 
 The}' 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 
 
 I rules which were to govern them in firing. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 193 
 
 
 SCEXE OF THE BURR AXD HAMILTOX DUEL, ■V\rEEHA'mvEX. 
 
 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 
 when they please. If one fiies before 
 the other, the opposite second shall say, 
 One, two, three, fire ; — and he shall then 
 fire, or lose his fire.' He then asked if 
 they were jirepared ; 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, 
 13 
 
 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 apjieared 
 to be expressive of regret, but without 
 speaking turned about and witlidrew, 
 being urged from the field )iy his friend. 
 No further communication took place be- 
 tween the principals, and the barge that 
 
194 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 carried Colonel Burr immediately left the 
 Jer.sey shore for Xew York. 
 
 Hamilton was at once borne awa}- ten- 
 derly in the arms of Pendleton, and his 
 necessities ministered to hy 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 io 
 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 o'.'l 
 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 j^our 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, IMr. 
 Ba^'ard, stood on the wharf in great agita- 
 tion, and, on seeing Hamilton lying in the 
 bottom of tlie boat, he threw up his arms 
 and burst into a flood of tears and lamen- 
 tation. Hamilton alone appeared tranquil 
 and composed. On being put to bed, a 
 consultation of physicians was held, who 
 united in the opinion that there was no 
 chance of liis recovery. General Key, the 
 French consul, also had the goodness to 
 invite the surgeons of the French frigates 
 then in New York harbor, as the}' 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 stru(;k the second or third 
 false rib, and fractured it about the middle ; 
 it then passed through tlic' liver and 
 the diaphragm, and as far as was sub- 
 sequently ascertained, lodged in the first 
 or second lumbar vertebra, the latter being 
 considerably s])lintered, so that the spic- 
 ulfE were perceptible to the touch of the 
 finger. 
 
 The news of Hamilton's fall, and jDrob- 
 ably speedy death, by a duel with the vice- 
 jjresident of the United States, jiaralyzed 
 the whole nation, as the shocking intelli- 
 gence sped itself over the country. In 
 New York, especiall}'-, bulletins, hourly 
 changed, kept the citj- 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 jiiteous specta- 
 cle of the seven children entering together 
 the awful apartment, — all these produced 
 an impression on the public that can onl}-- 
 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 imj)ropriety 
 in my request. It has for some time past 
 been the wish of my heart, and it was my 
 intention to take an cavly opportunity of 
 uniting myself to the church b\- the recep- 
 tion of that holy ordinance." Bishop 
 Moore observed to him, that he must be 
 A'ery sensible of the delicate and trying 
 situation in which, as a minister, he was 
 then jdaced ; that iKnvever desirous he 
 might be to afford consolation to a fellow 
 mortal in distress, still it was his duty as 
 an ambassador of the gospel, to hold up the 
 law of God as ])aramount to all other law, 
 and that, therefore, he must unequivocally 
 condemn the practice which had brought 
 him to his present iinha])py condition. 
 Hamilton acknowledged the projjriet}' of 
 these sentiments, and added, ^' I have no 
 ill-will against Colonel Burr. I met him 
 ivith a fixed determination to do him no 
 harm. I forgive all tha,t happened.''^ 
 After some other religious conversation 
 
GREAT AND ^lEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 195 
 
 incident to the occasion, he received the 
 sacrament with great devotion, expressing 
 strong conlidence in divine mercy. In his 
 interview with Dr. Mason, he exhihited 
 the same spiritual conviction, and repeated 
 the emphatic testimony he liad given to 
 Bishop Moore, against the barbarous 
 custom of dueling. 
 
 The next day, Thursday, at eleven 
 Vclock, being about thirty liours 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 nianhood, being forty-seven 
 years of age. 
 
 The death of this most illustrious states- 
 man was universally deplored, as a na- 
 tional calamity 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 dulj' 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 
 
 lie said: ''General Hamilton died yester- 
 day. The malignant federalists or tories, 
 and the embittered Clintonians, unite in 
 endeavoring to excite ])ublic sympathy in 
 his favor and indignation against his an- 
 tagonist. Thousands of absurd falsehoods 
 are circulated with industry. The most 
 illiberal means are 2)racticed 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 w^oman 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 3'ear 1822, she was traveling from 
 New York to Albany, on one of the 
 boats pl_ying 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. 
 
XIX. 
 TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE AT MID-DAY.— 1806. 
 
 The Darkness of Night Falls upon the Eartli. — Stars and Planets in Full Ra(lianc3 — Magnificent Spec- 
 tacle of the Glittering Corona around the Moon and the Brilliant Rosy Protuberances Flaming from 
 the Sun. — Splendor of the Returning Nigiit. — Similar Eclipse in 18G'J. — Millions of Faces Turned 
 Upward — The Phenomenon Viewed with Curiosity, Wonder, and Absorhed 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 — Exquibitely-Constructed 
 Instruments — Revelations of tiie Spectroscope. — Great Thermometrical Changes. — Spots on the Sun 
 Examined. — Openings in tiie Moon. — I'eculiar Color of that Body. — Its Dark and Dismal Shadows. — 
 Search for New Stars. — Meteors 'mid Earth and Moon — Climax of the Impressive Scene. 
 
 "The sun's rim dips ; the stapi ruxTi out I 
 
 TVitli ouu Btride coined the dark 1 " — Culkridoe. 
 
 I]\rPLE and well known though the fact may he, according to the ex- 
 planations of astronomical science, that a solar eclij)se is caused by 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 light 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 eye of man is permitted to gaze. By far the most remarkable 
 exhibition of this kind, was that which occurred June IG, 180G, 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 IG, 180G, is regarded by astronomers as the most 
 memorable ever known in the United States, — that of August 7, 18G9, being the next 
 in grandeur and interest. 
 
 The accounts given by Chancellor De Witt, of New York, Dr. Bowditch, of Massa- 
 chusetts, and otiiers, of the phenomenon of 180G, 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 mo.^t remarkable observ- 
 ations made by Dr. Bowditch, of Salem, Mass., will here be given. 
 
 Fortunately for the interests of science, the day was one of remarkably fine weather, 
 scarcely a cloud being visible in any j)art of the heavens. An assistant was seated 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 197 
 
 near the doctor, who counted the seconds 
 from the chronometer, thus enabling Dr. 
 Bowditdi to mark down witli a ])encil the 
 time when the first impression was made 
 on the sun's limb, without taking his eye 
 fi'om the telescope till four or five seconds 
 had elapsed, and tlu' 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 the 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, 
 
 TOTAL SOLAR ECLIPSE IN 1806. 
 
 and the star a in its shoulder. Venus 
 and Mars Avere 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 — tlie 
 time noted as that of the end of total 
 darkness, — the light burst forth with 
 great splendor. After this, the light aj)- 
 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 3'oiith 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 comjiany 
 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 iieoi)le, 
 however, were now crowding into the 
 streets, — their usual labors were abandoned 
 — forgotten for the moment, — and all faces 
 were turned upw^ard. 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- 
 
198 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ing was shed ovor the country. A great 
 change had taken phice. The trees on the 
 distant heights had lost their verdure and 
 their airy character, and were taking tlie 
 outline of dark pictures graven upon an 
 unfamiliar sky. 
 
 The startling effect of such an ahnormal 
 transition in nature, upon animals and 
 
 PROGRESS OF THE SOLAU 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 thrown into a state of 
 agitation. The birds were fluttering to 
 and fro, in great excitement; they seemed 
 to mistrust that 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, joyous 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 every 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 we observed this abso- 
 lutely transjiarent state of the heavens. The 
 birds, which a quarter of an hour earlier 
 had been fluttei'ing about in great agita- 
 tion, seemed now to be convinced that 
 night was at hand. Swallows were dimly 
 seen dropping into the chimneys, 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 like a young moon of three 
 or four da3-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 da}-^, filled the spirit 
 with singular sensations. Suddenly, one 
 of my brothers shouted aloud, "The 
 moon ! " Quicker than thought, my eye 
 turned eastward again, and there floated 
 the moon, distinctly apparent, to a degree 
 that Avas almost fearful. The spherical 
 form, the character, the dignity, the sub- 
 stance of the planet, were clearly 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 ui)on the village. A few 
 cows, believing that night had overtaken 
 them, were coming liomeward from the 
 wild open pastures ; the dew Avas 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 199 
 
 were now visible. At twelve minutes past 
 eleven, tlio moon stood revealed in its 
 greatest distinctness — a vast bhu-k oil>, 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- 
 nying the restoration of light, and the 
 jo,yous manifestations on the part of those 
 wlio 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 thirt}' 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, exhibiti:ig 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 lapse 
 of more than three-score years. 
 
 Beginning in the Pacific ocean, just east 
 of Yedilo, 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 territoiy 
 in Alaska, near Prince AVilliam'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 18G9. 
 
 eclipse, than at this time, and never was 
 the weather more propitious for such 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. When the total obscuration took 
 place, the heavens and earth presented a 
 
200 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 scene of awful sublimity. A brilliant 
 amber-colored corona appeared around the 
 sun and moon, shooting rays of light out- 
 ward in all directions, when the whole hori- 
 zon was illuminated witli 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 Baile3''s beads, was 
 also distinctly witnessed. According to 
 Prof. Peirce, the last-named appearance is 
 occasioned by tlie refraction of liglit, and 
 the corona, or halo, at the time of totality, 
 by the sun's atmosphere. 
 
 Des ]\Ioines, Iowa, afforded another most 
 favorable locality for the presence of 
 astronomers, a slight haze only interfering 
 to prevent satisfactory search for the plan- 
 ets supposed to exist inside the orbit of 
 Mercury. Professor Safford's observations 
 showed that the first contact occurred at 
 •^hree o'clock, forty-three minutes, forty- 
 three seconds ; the commencement of the 
 total obscurit}'' was at four o'clock, fortj'- 
 five minutes, tliirty seconds, and its end 
 was at four o'clock, forty-eiglit 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- 
 lation and observation of tlie corona. It 
 was nearly rhomboid il in form, and very 
 distinct and extended, at some points half 
 a degree beyond the 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. Profassor 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 asi)ect of 
 the sun was the protuberances or beads. 
 The largest one was semi-circular in shape, 
 with a finger extending about one-eighth 
 part of the sun's diameter, directly down- 
 ward as one looked. Another right limb 
 was shaped much like two horns of an ante- 
 lope. The greatest length of the corona 
 was in the direction of the elliptic. Valu- 
 al)Ie observations were also made here by 
 Professors Peters, Fraser, Rogers, Norton, 
 and Lane. 
 
 Professors Hough and IVIurray 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. When 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 protul)erances 
 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 liccht surroundinT the 
 
GREAT AND MEiMORAl^LE EVENTS. 
 
 201 
 
 moon, but appeared in tlio shape of five 
 forked prongs on the upper eircuniferenee 
 of the nioou. These j)oints presented a 
 radiant 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 
 between Mercurv and the sun. Dui.ns: the 
 totality phase, Mercury, Venus, Regulus, 
 Mars, Saturn, Denebata, and other stars, 
 appeared in full view. The temperature 
 in the shade, at tlie be<T[innin<T 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, en 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 Professoj." Coffin 
 had charge of the observations made at 
 Burlington, Iowa, by direction of the 
 United States government, with Avhom 
 "were also associated Professors IMorton, 
 Mayer, Hines, Watson, Merriman, Van 
 Fleck, Johnson, and others, either as ob- 
 servers or visitors. Two points were paid 
 special attention to at this place, namelj-, 
 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 employed, being of the 
 least magnif^'ing 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 beyond 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 sky, 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 commonl}' called rosy, by observers 
 at other places, here looked white to the 
 naked eye, with an opera-glass slightly ro- 
 seate, and with the telescope red. At the 
 moment of totality, the planets were visi- 
 ble, ranged in perfect brilliancy ; Mercury, 
 rudd^' as ]\Iais, and Arcturus and Regulus, 
 fixed stars of the first magnitude, were 
 plain to the unassisted eye. The right 
 pro'^nberance 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 j^lfinets, 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- 
 byville, 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 betw<^en 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 
 
202 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 away through the air, were noted. Mr. 
 Searle, whose specialt}^ it was to search 
 for intra-inercurial planets, did not succeed 
 in finding any, reporting nothing fainter 
 than Reguhis near tlie 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 SEEK IN BRAZIL. 
 
 and for a while the faint-hearted Avere 
 almost terrified. The general phenomena 
 at all the places where the eclipse was 
 complete, or nearly so, were the A'acilla- 
 tion of the wind, the deeji, 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 Xewbern, 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, 
 at totality, and studied 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 aroiind the disc of tlie 
 moon, forming a most impressive climax 
 to the whole phenomenon ; direc'ly at the 
 bottom, glowed with intense brilliancy a 
 
 rose-colored projection, visible to the naked 
 eye ; a few seconds more, and another 
 glittered at the extreme right — and then 
 another, and, successively, 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 sk3\ The small amount of light 
 that fell ujion the trees and buildings, just 
 before and after the total obscuration, 
 lighted them iip with a brilliancy most 
 peculiar ; the light was more diffusive 
 than moonlight, and the shadows were 
 more distinctly marked and visible. It 
 was a i^ale 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 a2)proach 
 to such a light being that known as the 
 calcium, the latter, however, being white 
 instead of pale golden. At the instant of 
 comjilete 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 CA^ening 
 star in one day, hung half-way down from 
 the zenith ; near the sun glistened a star 
 of the first magnitude, Regulus ; while 
 overhead the intense blue sky Avas full of 
 them. 
 
 Much scientific interest centered around 
 the expedition sent b}^ 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 Aveather, it was eleven 
 days in reaching the positions selected — 
 only tAA-enty miles from the central path of 
 totality. It Avas 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 seA'enth of 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 203 
 
 August was the cloudiest day experienced, 
 but breaks in the clouds enabled the party 
 to watch dift'erent phases, and the begin- 
 ning of totality was accurately noted. In- 
 stantly after obscuration, rose-colored 
 flames were visible to the unassisted eye, 
 and their extent, position, elevation, and 
 approximity, measured on the south-east 
 and south-west parts of the sun's limb. 
 The 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 liglit 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- 
 larlv 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 marvelo'^s 
 beauty, also the planet Mercury, and star? 
 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, on the occurrence of such a 
 
 wonderful sight, some strange incidents 
 transpired. In his account of the observa- 
 tions nnide by Professor Watson, at Mount 
 Pleasant, Iowa, Professor Tyler narrates 
 tlie 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 baffle them. The cloudy 
 weather which continued up to the last 
 day seemed to give some support to bis 
 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. 
 
XX. 
 
 CONSPIRACY AND TRIAL OF AARON BURR.— ISOG. 
 
 Lawless Scheme of -Conquest and Dominion at the South-west. — A New Empire Contemplated, 
 with Burr as Sovereijjn. — Seizure of His Flotilla and Dispersion of His Men when Ready 
 to Embark, by the Federal Forces. — Capture and Arraijrnment of Burr for High Trea- 
 son — Keckless Character of Burr. — His Unscrupulous Ambitions. — Enlists Blennerhassett in 
 His Plans. — Their Expedition Arranged — Mexico the Ultimate Point. — Discovery of the 
 AVhole Plot — Its Complet^e Frustration. — Burr Flees in Disguise. — Scene at His Arrest. — 
 Attempt to F.,<«cape. — The Tron-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. 
 
 " TtiB poimtrv'B curse, his children's shame. 
 Outcast of virtue, peace, aud fume." 
 
 S events proved, it remained for Aaron Burr to add one more 
 l^olitical crime to his corrupt career as a public man, and one 
 more dark chapter to his country's history. Staggering under the weiglit of ob- 
 loquy and disgrace brought down upon him by his cold-blooded disposal of Alex- 
 ander Hamilton, on the fatal plains of Weehawken, lie still sought some means of 
 triumphing over his eneiuies and attaining distinction and power. Strong and 
 resolute in the operations of his ever-active mind, his ambition was eqtially 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 mysterious 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 Avas the ])rime 
 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 i)ersonage. The ostensible pretext was, the forming of a large agricultural 
 settlement on the banks of the Washita in Louisiana, a tributary of the Mississippi; 
 Imt 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 fonnation of the western territory into a 
 separate government, or an expedition against Mexico, sought to be justified by a 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 205 
 
 bouiulary difference that had arisen with 
 Si)ain. In fact, the erection of a new 
 enii)ire, with Burr at its liead. 
 
 Burr's chief associate in tlie plans which 
 he had tlms formed was Harnian Blenner- 
 hassett, aiul tlie story of their acquain- 
 tance, friendsliii) anil confederation, 
 borders strongly on the romantic. Blen- 
 nerhassett was one of the Irish 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 2>os- 
 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 tlie 
 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 society, with 
 which it was his custom constantly 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 beaut}'^ 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 dignity 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, conlitlentiuJly intrusted her with his 
 plans, she was fired with the boldness and 
 intrepidity of his euter[)rise, and immedi- 
 ately determined to engage her husband as 
 an associate. Blennerhassett, being a 
 man of ductile temper, was easily induced 
 b}' the dazzling rejjresentations 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, under the 
 mastering genius of his wife, the exiled 
 patriot actively engaged in enlisting men, 
 building boats, and jireparing 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 mufiied 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 j^lans. 
 
 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 
 
206 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 island, before he was 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 the 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 stejy farther, and I will send yoti 
 into eternity; it is easier for me to do than 
 to say 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 oii the Missis- 
 sippi, — Wilkinson to be second in com- 
 mand to Burr only, and to dictate the 
 rank and promotion of the officers. 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 the general, west of the moun- 
 tains, likely to i)rove useful, — together 
 with four or five commissions of Wilkin- 
 
 son's officers, to be borrowed ujDon some 
 j^retense, and duly to be returned. To 
 this was added the assurance, 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 rapidlj- 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, thei-e to meet 
 Wilkinson and determine as to the expe- 
 diency of seizing on or j^assing by Baton 
 Rouge ; that the people of the countr}^ to 
 which the movement Avas 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: 
 
 " The gods invite to glory and fortune! 
 It remains to be seen Avhether we deserve 
 the boon. The bearer of this goes express 
 to 3'ou ; 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 
 3'our character, and may be embarrassed 
 in your presence ; put him at ease and he 
 will satisfy you." 
 
 It appeared to be Burr's plan, to make 
 Blennerhassett's island, in the Ohio river, 
 the place of rendezvous ; there to fit out 
 boats furnished with armed men, and send 
 them down the river. 
 
 liurr 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 
 
GREAT AND INIE.MOUABLE EVENTS. 
 
 207 
 
 bearer, Mr. Swartwout, aiul, in tlie course 
 of some days, drew from liim the following 
 disclosure : — That he had been disfjatt-hed 
 by Colonel Ikur from Philaddpliia ; had 
 passed through the states of Ohio and 
 Kentucky, and proceeded from Lnuisville 
 for St. Louis, expecting there to tind 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 Natcliitoches, 
 in company with Captains Spark and 
 Hooke, under tlie pretense of a disposition 
 to take part in the campaign against the 
 Sjjaniards, 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 liundred 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 inquirj", as to 
 what course was to be pursued, answer 
 was made tliat 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 Februarj', intending to 
 land at Vera Cruz, and to march from 
 thence to Mexico. General Wilkinson now 
 remarked, " There are several vi'dlions of 
 dollars in tlie hank of this place;" to 
 which reply was made, '' We know it full 
 ivell.'' 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 they 
 expected naval protection from Gi'eat Brit- 
 ain ; that the captains and officers of the 
 American navy were so disgusted with the 
 government, that they were ready to join ; 
 
 that similar disgusts prevailed throughout 
 the western country, where the people 
 were zealous in favor of the enterprise, 
 and that i)ilot-l)oat 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 lias been 
 brought against him of at one time favor- 
 ing and subse(]uentl3^ turning his back 
 upon Burr's scheme — that he replied 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 full^- 
 deciphered the letter, he declared his inten- 
 tion to oppose the lawless entei-prise with 
 all the force at his command, and immedi- 
 ately informed President Jefferson. With 
 the excejition of the attack on the frigate 
 Chesapeake, Commodore Barron, by the 
 British frigate Leojiard, and the embargo 
 and non-intercourse measures against 
 England, few occurrences caused greater 
 anxiety to the president, during his eight 
 ^•ears' official term, than 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 up 
 the movement. Accordingl}-, by the 
 middle of December, ten boats with stores 
 were arrested on the ]\Iuskingum, and in a 
 short time after, four more were seized by 
 the troops at Marietta. Blennerhassett, 
 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- 
 
208 
 
 OUR FIEST CENT UK Y.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ^ 3^^^^0 BREAKING-UF OF BUKR S EXPEDITION. 
 
 BtJRR AND HIS DELUDED FOLLOWERS. 
 
 land ; on tlie twent^'-ninth, tlie adventur- 
 ers passed Fort Massac. 
 
 In tlie meantime, the United States 
 government had 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. 
 Aini)le 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 lUuffs ; and soon after at 
 P>ayou Pierre. P)ut as lie approached 
 New Oi'leans, he found such a state of 
 things in respect to pul)lic sentiment and 
 military e(juipment, 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 Mississi])pi, in the middle 
 of January. 
 
 Close pursuit was made of r>urr 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 susjiected to be 
 the leader-in-chief, remai'ked — 
 
 ''I presume, sir, that I have the honor 
 of addressing Colonel Purr." 
 
 "I am a traveler," answered lUirr, "and 
 in a strange land, and do not recognize 
 your right to ask such a question." 
 
 '' / arrest yoif," responded Gaines, "at 
 the instance of the United Stater." 
 
 "By what authority do 30U arrest me, 
 a stranger, on the highway, on my own 
 private business ? " 
 
 ''lam an officer of the United States 
 army, and hold in my hand the ])roclama- 
 tion of the ])resident, as well us that of the 
 governor of the Mississippi territory, 
 directing your arrest." 
 
 " But _you are a young man, and perhaps 
 not aware of the responsibilit}' of thus 
 arresting a traveler." 
 
 "I am perfectly aware of my duties, in 
 the premises, and shall endeavor to per- 
 form them." 
 
 l^urr now broke out in a stream of vehe- 
 ment denunciation of the proclamations. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORAIJLE EVENTS. 
 
 209 
 
 and warning Gaines that, in carrying out 
 tlieir 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 oflficer told him his mind was made 
 up, — the prisoner must accompany him to 
 his quarters, where he would be treated 
 with all the respect due the e.\-vice- 
 president of the United States, so long as 
 lie made no attempt to escape. He was 
 then conducted to Fort Stoddart, and 
 thence was conveyed on horseback, in 
 cliarge of Captain Perkins, to Richmond, 
 Virginia, to be tried by the United States 
 on a charge of higli treason, before Chief- 
 Justice Marshall, of the supreme federal 
 court. 
 
 Strange and rapid were Burr's vicissi- 
 tudes. From being vice-president of tlie 
 republic, the idol of a powerful and domi- 
 nant jiarty, 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 
 I)antaloons 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 conveyed 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 
 14 
 
 the route to Richmond. On rcachin<r 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 AUston, 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 liighway 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 Avere heard iii 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 his horse, with 
 several of his men, and ordered him 
 instantly to re-mount. 
 
 ^^ I will not ! " replied Burr. 
 
 Not Avisliing 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 tlie 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 
 
210 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187G. 
 
 first time an}' one liad 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 the 
 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 Commoilore Truxton, Gen- 
 erals Eaton and Jackson, Washington 
 Irving, AVinfield Scott, William B. Giles, 
 John Ta^'lor. Burr was of course the cen- 
 tral figure in this master scene. After a 
 trial lasting three or four weeks in mid- 
 summer, during wdiich the legal exertions 
 and forensic talent and power displayed on 
 both sides Ave re 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 calamitous 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 perem[)torily 
 ordered by the government of England to 
 quit that realm, being regarded as a spy, 
 
 and, on going to France, was there kept 
 under the closest j)olice surveillance. Re- 
 turning after some years of this kind of 
 life, to his native land, lie resumed the 
 profession of the law, but the ban of soci- 
 ety rested upon him, and he was, as lie 
 liimself 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 trnl^' 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 sjiirit might be sup- 
 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 obloqu}', 
 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^J^a. 
 
 "1 witness your extraordinaiy fortitude 
 with new wonder at every new misfortune. 
 Often, after reflecting upon this subject, 
 you appear to me so superior, so elevated 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 211 
 
 above "all other men; I contemplate you 
 with such a strange mixture of humility, 
 admiration, reverence, love aiul pride, that 
 very little superstition would be necessary to 
 make me worship you as a superior being ; 
 such enthusiasm does your character excite 
 in me. When 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 3'ou ; 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 s^'nonym 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 sw^ept 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 shai)e, his 
 heart was buoyed with the expectation of 
 soon clasi)ing to his arms her in whom his 
 earthly all-in-all centered. Alas! he was 
 yet to drain the cup of its netlier 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 privateering 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 tlie gale 
 which occurred soon after she left Cliarles- 
 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 countr}', his wretched existence was 
 prolonged to past four-score years, when 
 he went down in loneliness to the grave, 
 "uuAvept, unhonored, and unsung." Of 
 his accomplished and affectionate daughter, 
 all tongues and pens have unitedly sjioken 
 as " Theodosia the beloved." 
 
XXI. 
 
 FULTOX'S TRIUMPIIAXT APPLICATIOX OF STEAM TO 
 
 XAVIGATIOX.— 1807. 
 
 First Steam-boat Voyage on American Waters Under His Direction. — Astonishment Produced by the 
 Exhibition. — Great Era in National Development. — The World at Large Indebted to American 
 Ingenuity and Enterprise for tiiis 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." — Den)onstrations 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 is to the undaunted perseverance and exertions of the American Fultox that Is due the everlasting honor of havinz produced this 
 rvTulution, l)oth in navai architecture and uLvi^-atiou."— JuET Rktokt of tuk Exmibitios of all Natioss, Londox, l&U. 
 
 [TEAM, ill its application to the purposes of navigation, 
 was first successfully employed by Robert Fulton, a na- 
 tive of Little Britain, Pennsylvania. 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 liis 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 papers 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 beini engaged by the Duke of P>ridgewater in 
 
 FIRST .STKAM-HOAT OS THE 
 HUD.SON. 
 
GREAT AND TMEINIORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 213 
 
 canal projects, had ailopted and patented 
 tlie system of inclined [danes 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 Avas 
 first directed to steam navigation, is not 
 definitely known ; but even in 1793, he 
 luid matured a plan in wliich he reposed 
 great confidence. No one. previously to 
 Mr. Fulton, had constructed a steam-boat 
 
 /Li^^ i^^^o 
 
 in any other way, or with any other 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 years 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 very 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 principles; but he 
 Avas 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 March, 1798, passed 
 an act vesting ]\rr. Livingston with the 
 exclusive right and privilege of navigating 
 all kinds of boats which might be propelled 
 by 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 Avithin a 
 twelvemonth build such a boat, the mean 
 of Avhose progress should not be less than 
 four miles an hour. 
 
 The bill AA'as introduced into the house 
 of assembly by Dr. Mitchell, upon Avhich 
 '^-^-'L^^ occasion the Avags 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 INIr. Livingston's OAvn 
 account of these most interesting circum- 
 stances, it appears that, Avhen residing as 
 minister plenipotentiary of the United 
 States in France, he tliere met Avith Mr. 
 Fulton, and they formed that friendship 
 and connection Avith each other, to Avliich 
 a similarity of pursuits naturally gives 
 birth. He communicated to Mr, Fulton 
 his vicAvs of the importance of steam-boats 
 to their common country ; informed him of 
 Avhat had been attempted in America, and 
 of his resolution to resume the pursuit on 
 
214 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 his return; and advised him to turn his 
 attention to tiie subject. It was agreed 
 between them to embark in the enterprise, 
 and immediately to make sucli experi- 
 ments as would enable them to determine 
 how far, in spite of former failures, the 
 object was attainable. The principal 
 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-wdieels Avas 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. When 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 tflie Man- 
 hattan water into the reservoir back of 
 the almshouse ; but, to the people at large, 
 the whole thing was a hidden mystery. 
 Curiosity was greatly excited. Nor will 
 the reader be at all surprised at the state- 
 ment made by an eye-witness and narrator 
 of those events, that, when it was an- 
 nounced in the New York papers that the 
 boat would start from Cortlandt street at 
 six and a half o'clock on Friday morning, 
 the fourth of August, and take jjassengers 
 to Albany, there Avas a broad smile on 
 every face, as the inquiry was made, if 
 any one would be fool enough to go? 
 One friend was heard to accost another in 
 the street with — 
 
 "John, Avill thoo risk thy life in such a 
 concern ? I tell theo she is the most fear- 
 ful wild fowl living, and thy father ought 
 to restrain thee ! " 
 
 AVhen Friday morning came, the 
 wharves, piers, house-tops, and every 
 ' coi'jiiG dc vtintufje ' 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 read}--, the engine was 
 set in motion, and the boat moved steadily 
 but slowly from ihe 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 the cheer, bxit 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 by 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 cit^' 
 seemed animated with life. Every sail- 
 boat and water-craft was out. The ferry- 
 boat from Fishkill was filled with ladies, 
 but Fulton Avas engaged in seeing a jias- 
 senger landed, and did not observe the 
 
GREAT A^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 215 
 
 boat until she bore up nearly alonjrside ; 
 tlie 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 bright and happy faces, struck him 
 with surprise, and, raising his hat, he ex- 
 claimed, '' That is the finest sight we have 
 seen yet." 
 
 favorable than I had calculated. The dis- 
 tance to Albany is one hundred and fifty 
 miles. I ran up in thirtj'-two hours and 
 down in thirty. The latter is just five 
 
216 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY'.— 177C-1S7G. 
 
 miles an hour. I had 
 
 light 
 
 breeze 
 
 against me the whole way, going and com- 
 ing, so that no use was made of 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 tlie graphic pen 
 of one who was a personal actor in the 
 scene described: — 
 
 I chanced to be at Alban}'^ on business 
 when Fulton arrived there in his unheard- 
 of craft, which everybody felt so much 
 anxiety to see. Being ready to leave, and 
 liearing that this craft Avas 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 ^our 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; yet I trust we may meet 
 again, when this will not be the case." 
 
 Some four years after this (continues 
 the writer of this agreeable reminiscence), 
 when the Clermont had been greatl}' im- 
 l^roved and her name changed to the North 
 River, and *vhen 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 Albany, I took passage upon one 
 of these for the latter cit^'. 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 eN'es met, when he sprang 
 to his feet, and, eagerly seizing my hand, 
 exclaimed — 
 
 "■ I knew it must be j^ou, for your feat- 
 ures have never escaped me ; and, although 
 I am still far from rich, 3'et I may venture 
 that bottle now ! " 
 
 It was ordered ; and during its discus- 
 sion Mr. Fulton ran rapidl_y, but vividly, 
 over his experiences of the world's cold- 
 ]iess and sneers, and of the hopes, fears, 
 disappointments, and difficulties, that were 
 scattered through his whole career of dis- 
 cover}', 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 Albanj^ ; 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 early period in the employ- 
 ment of so dangerous and slightly under- 
 stood a motive power as steam, the rivahy 
 and diversion of racing was indulged in. 
 It was in the month of September, 1809, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE E\"ENTS. 
 
 217 
 
 that the exciting and criminal scene of a 
 steam-boat race was first enacted. A com- 
 pany from Albany bad been formed for 
 tbe 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 
 wore enrolled under Professor Kemp, of 
 Columbia College ; those of the opposition 
 under Jacob Stout. The victory was long 
 ill 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." 
 AVhen 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 
 lires of rival steam-boats. 
 
 The complete success attending steam 
 navigation on the Hudson and the neigh- 
 boring waters, previous to the year 1809, 
 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 3-ear, Mr. Roosevelt, 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 liis 
 direction, and in the year 1811 the first 
 boat was launched on the waters of the 
 Oliio. 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 
 ai)[)earance of the vessel, and the fearful 
 rapidity — as it was then regarded — with 
 which it made its passage, 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 his 
 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 liis 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 velocity. Being shut out of the 
 waters of the state of New York, by the 
 priority 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 triumph in 
 1807, steam navigation became a fixed fact 
 in the United States, and went on extend- 
 ing .with astonishing rapidity. 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 
 gracefidness. 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. 
 
XXII. 
 
 EXTENSIVE AND CALAMITOUS EARTHQUAKE AT THE 
 
 WEST.— 1811. 
 
 Its Convulsive Force Felt all Over tlie Valley of the Mississippi and to the Atlantic Coast — The Earth 
 Sudilenly 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 Eartiiquake. — Its Central Point of Violence — Teirible Consternation Produced. 
 
 — The Ground Swellings and Crackings. — Great Agitation of the Waters — Houses Buried, Boats 
 Wrecked. — Giant Forests Crushed — Purple Tinge of the Atmospiiere. — Tliunder, Lightning, Flood, 
 Etc. — A Mighty Struggle. — Hills and Islands Disappear. — Burial Grounds Engulfed. — Nature's 
 Si'crets Unbosomed. — Lakes Drained, New Ones Formed — Present Asj)ect of the Country — 
 Account of the More Recent Earthquakes in California, tlieir 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. 
 
 " Dtseawii nature oftentimes brealts forth 
 
 In strunte ernptions ; and the teeming eartU 
 
 ]■» with a kind of colic pineh'd and vex'd 
 
 }ty tlie imprisoning of nnrnly winda 
 
 AViiliin her womt>^; which, for enlnraement striving, 
 
 Sliikc th" old beldame Earth, and topple down 
 
 btcipks and mooB-giown towers." 
 
 AFTER TUE EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 AKTHQUAKES in the United States 
 7:3 liave been of comparatively rare occur- 
 ^ rence, so far as any extensive destniction 
 ^^ of life and property lias been iiivolved. 
 By far the most important of these, prior 
 to the disastrous California earthquakes in 
 1805 and 1868, was that uhich took place 
 at New Madrid, in Missouri, below St. 
 Louis, on the Mississijipi, in 1811, and 
 which is always spoken of, in that section, 
 as " the great earthquake." Over a region 
 of country three hundred miles in lengtli, 
 from the mouth of the Ohio to that of the 
 St. Francis, the ground rose and sank in 
 great undulations, and lakes Avere formed, 
 and again drained. Humboldt remarks 
 that it presents one of the few examjtles of 
 an incessant quaking of the ground for 
 successive months far from any volcano. 
 
 The central point of violence in this 
 remarkable earthquake was tliought to be 
 near the Little Prairie, twenty-five or 
 tbirty miles below New Madrid; the vibra- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 219 
 
 tions from wliifli were felt all over the 
 valley of the Oliio, as high up as Pitts- 
 burg. The first shock was felt on the 
 night of December sixteenth, 1811, and 
 was repeated at intervals, with decreasing 
 severity, into February following. New 
 Madrid, having suffered more than any 
 otlier 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. 
 From the temporary check to the current, 
 by the heaving up of the bottom, the sink- 
 ins: of the banks and sand-bars ijito 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 tlK> 
 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 Mississii>pi. 
 
 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. Roose- 
 velt. On arriving about five miles above 
 the Yellow Banks, near New Madrid, they 
 moored opi>osite 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 
 alread}' 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. 
 AVhile 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 
 da}', and perceived the shores shake — 
 insisting that they had repeatedly 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 w^eather was oppressivel}' 
 hot ; the air misty, still and dull ; and 
 though the sun was visible, like an 
 immense and glowing ball of copper, his 
 rays hardly shed more than a mournful 
 twilio'ht 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 
 the 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- 
 ai)peared, and every one on board was 
 thunderstruck." 
 
220 
 
 OUR FIRST CEXTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 SCENE OF THE GREAT EARTHQUAKE IN THE WEST. 
 
 The second day after leaving the Yellow 
 Banks, the sun rose over the forests, the 
 same dim ball of fire, and the air was thick, 
 heavy, and oppressive, as before. The 
 p(ii-tentous signs of this terrible natural 
 convulsion increased. Alarmed and con- 
 fused, the pilot affirmed he was lost — as 
 he foxxnd 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', Avere found to have been swallowed 
 up, with their gigantic growth of forest 
 and cane. 
 
 Thus, in doubt and terror, the}' pro- 
 ceeded hour after hour, until dark, when 
 they found a small island, and rounded to, 
 mooring at the foot of it. Here theyla}', 
 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 day thej^ 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, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 221 
 
 at all times a fearful stream, unusually 
 swollen, turbid, and full of trees, and after 
 many days of extreme danger, tinally 
 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 
 tinally ensued, the cun-eut of the Missis- 
 sippi was driven back from its source with 
 ajipalling 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 daj's' 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, perhajis, 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 lifty to one hundred feet deej», 
 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 men- 
 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 wath 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 Mississijipi 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 loam, or l>y 
 evai)oration equally gradual, in a country 
 covered by forests and impenetraWe 
 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 man}' places, the 
 gaping earth unfolded its secrets, — the 
 bones of the gigantic mastodon and ich- 
 thyosaurus, hidden within its bosom for 
 
222 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY'.— 177G-1876. 
 
 ages, being Lrouglit 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 might}' cauldron 
 seething and bubbling in the bowels of the 
 earth. 
 
 Flint, the geographer, who visited the 
 country seven years 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 tlie 
 fissures opened, and they accordingly 
 felled the tallest trees, making them 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 tliat 
 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 
 impetuosit}', that both horse and rider 
 
 might haA'e 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 iDrincipal 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 Lyell 
 Avent 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, Avith much Avhite 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 regularity 
 of a flat plain, the sides very steep, and 
 twenty-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- 
 ney's, and the bodies of others drawn out 
 of the ruins ; and confirmed the i)ublished 
 statements of the inhabitants having 
 availed themselves of fallen trees to avoid 
 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 liad been 
 caused by the undulatory movement of the 
 ground, some of them jagged, others even 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 22o 
 
 anil straij^jlit. Two of thom Avoro traccil 
 i-ontimiously for more tliaii luilf a mile, 
 and a few were found to be parallel ; but. 
 on the whole, they varied greatly in diree- 
 tion, some being ten and others forty-five 
 degrees west of nortli. Tliey might easily 
 liave 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 tlie 
 forest blown into them in countless num- 
 bers, have done much to fill them up. 
 
 In that })art of the forest which borders 
 what is called the " suidc 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 truidis 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 vioaarchs of 
 the forest stand, terminates abruptly 
 
 newer than 1812. The " sunk country " 
 extends along the course of the AVhite 
 Water and its tributaries for a distance of 
 between seventy and eighty miles north 
 and south, ami 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 18(55 and 18C8, 
 and boll) in the month of October, wei-e 
 the most disastrous in respect to the value 
 of property destroyed, that of October 21, 
 18G8, being particularly so. At San 
 Francisco, the motion was east and west, 
 and several buildings on Pine, Rattery, 
 and Sansome streets were thrown down, 
 and a considerable number badly damaged. 
 The ground settled, which threw the build- 
 ings out of line. The principal damage 
 was confined to the lower portion of the 
 city, below Montgomery street, and among 
 old buildings on the made ground. The 
 
 EARTnQUAKE SCENE IN SAN FKANCISCO. 
 
 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 
 
 custom-house, a brick building erected on 
 pile ground, which was badlv 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, 
 
224 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 walls and chimneys of a number of houses 
 fell, causing loss of life and many accidents. 
 At one place, the ground ojjened 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 ship- 
 ping in the harbor, as if the vessels had 
 struck upon the rocks. The morning was 
 moderately warm, and a dense fog covered 
 the cit3^ 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 city, by the 
 perpendicular oscillations, Avhile 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 Avails, 
 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 swa}', 
 and the motion of the earth under the 
 feet was unpleasantly plain to walkers ; 
 horses started and snorted, exhibiting 
 every sign of fear, and in some cases dash- 
 ing off furiously with their riders; dogs 
 crouched, trembling and whining; and 
 fowls flew to the trees, uttering notes of 
 alarm. The panic among women and 
 children was, for a time, excessive, and 
 their cries and tears were very moving. 
 
 At Oakland, the shock was very severe, 
 throwing down chimneys, and greatly 
 damaging buildings ; in several localities, 
 the ground opened, and a strong sulphu- 
 rous smell was noticed after the shock. 
 The court-house at San Leandro was 
 demolished and one life lost. At San 
 Jose, several buildings were injured. The 
 large brick court-house at Redwood City 
 was completely wrecked. The shock was 
 light at Marysville and Sonora, and severe 
 at Grass Valle}'. 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 rose 
 and fell a foot and a half. 
 
XXIII. 
 
 CAPTURE OF THE BRITISH FRIGATE GUERRIERE BY 
 THE U. S. FRIGATE CONSTITUTION.— 1812. 
 
 Captain Dacres's Insolent Challenge to the American Navy —Captain Hull's Eager Acceptance. — His 
 Unrivaled Tactics and Maneuvers. — A Short, Terrific, Decisive Contest. — Yankee Valor on the 
 Ocean a Fixed Fact, Sternly Respected — The Constitution Becomes the Favorite Ship of the 
 Nation, and is Popularly Called " Old Ironsides." — Cruise of the Constitution. — Hull, the " Sea 
 King," in Command — A Sail ! The Enemy's Squadron ! — Chased Three Days by Them. — Rowing 
 and Warping in a Calm — .Most Wonderful Escape on Record.— Another Frigate in Sight, the Guer- 
 
 riere. — Her Signals of Defiance — Yankee Eagerness for Ac- 
 tion. — The Two Frigates Afoul. — Yard-arm to Yard-arm 
 Encounter. — Fire of the Constitution Reserved. — Final and 
 Deadly Broadsides. — Fearless Conduct of her Crew. — British 
 Colors Hauled Down. — Sinking of the Shattered Wreck. — 
 Armament and Power of the Ships. — An almost Equal 
 Match. — Anecdotes of the Two Commanders. — Honors to the 
 Brave Victors. — Future Annals of the Constitution. — Her 
 Varied and Noble Career. 
 
 " Never before, in the history of the world, did an English frigate strike fo an Ameiican, 
 under equal circumstances."— London Times. 
 
 ROUDEST among the triumphs of the American flag will for- 
 \jj ever be associated the career of that noble old frigate, the Constitution, 
 
 {^^ re-christened, b,y popular acclaim, " Old Ironsides,'^ for her grand 
 
 and victorious resistance to British domination on the ocean, in succes- 
 sive and hotly-contested battles. The greatest of these triumphs came, too, at a 
 time when the public heart heaved with despondency; and the sensibilities of a 
 whole nation, deeply wounded by the ill-success of their arms on the frontier, were 
 suddenly thrilled with joy at the announcement of an action brilliant beyond all 
 precedent in its results, in the annals of naval warfare. The American heart beat 
 high and warm, as the news of this proud achievement winged itself over the sea and 
 over the land, and from the western to the eastern hemisphere. It may here be 
 stated, as an interesting naval item, that the first commander of this pet frigate was 
 Commodore Samuel Nicholson, brother of Commodore James Nicholson, of revolu- 
 tionary note. 
 
 Previous to the final declaration of war against Great Britain, in June, 1812, 
 preparation had been made by the United States government to send to sea, imme- 
 diately on that event, all the frigates and armed vessels that could be put in readi- 
 ness, to protect American commerce, and meet the enemy on the ocean. When, 
 15 
 
226 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 however, these little squadrons left their 
 ports to contend with the haughty mistress 
 of the seas, every American breast was 
 filled with anxiety. Indeed, the British 
 naval commanders had boasted that the}' 
 would drive the little striped bunting of the 
 upstart states, in affright and dismay, 
 from every part of the broad ocean. How 
 the Constitution saved herself, on first 
 sighting the British lion, is a narrative 
 uniting the romantic and miraculous. 
 
 It was on the twenty-first of June, that 
 a squadron, consisting of the President, 
 the United States, the Congress, the 
 Hornet, and Argus, under the com- 
 mand of Commodore Rodgers, sailed from 
 New York on a cruise in quest of British 
 merchantmen, then on their way from 
 Jamaica to England. Subsequently, the 
 frigate Constitution, Captain Isaac Hull, 
 received orders to join the squadron of 
 Rodgers, and, for that purpose, sailed from 
 the Chesapeake on the twelfth of July. 
 On the seventeenth, being off Egg Harbor, 
 four ships, apparently men-of-war, were 
 discovered from the mast-head to the 
 northward, approaching rapidly with a fine 
 breeze, while it was nearly calm about the 
 Constitution. In the belief that it was the 
 American squadron, waiting her arrival, 
 every effort was made to come up with 
 them. At four in the afternoon, another 
 ship was seen to the north-east, standing 
 for the Constitution, with all sails set. At 
 ten in the evening, being then within six 
 or eight miles of the strange sail, the pri- 
 vate signal was made by the Constitution ; 
 which not being answered, it was con- 
 cluded that they were the enemy's vessels. 
 
 And now commenced what may justly 
 be termed the most remarkable series of 
 naval tactics and maneuvers ever known, 
 — the most wonderful chase recorded in 
 nautical history, — resulting in the success- 
 ful, and almost miraculous, escape of the 
 American frigate from a whole squadron 
 of British vessels, commanded by Captain 
 Broke, in close pursuit for nearly three 
 days and nights ! 
 
 The position of the Constitution seemed 
 hopeless indeed, when she found that one 
 
 of the enemy's frigates was within about 
 five or six miles, and a line-of-battle ship, 
 a frigate, a brig, and schooner, some ten or 
 twelve miles directly astern, all in chase 
 of her, with a fine breeze, and coming up 
 fast, — while, unfortunately, the wind had 
 entirely left the Constitution, so that the 
 ship would not steer, but fell round off 
 with her head towards the two ships under 
 her lee. The boats were instantly hoisted 
 out, and sent ahead, to tow the ship's head 
 round, and to endeavor to get her farther 
 from the enemy, being now within five 
 miles of three heavy frigates. The boats 
 of the enemy were got out and sent ahead 
 to tow, by which, with the light air that 
 remained with them, they came up very 
 fast. Finding the enemy gaining on him, 
 and but little chance of escaping, Hull 
 ordered two guns to be ran out at the cabin 
 Avindows for stern guns on the gun-deck, 
 and hoisted one of the twenty-four pound- 
 ers off the gun-deck, and ran that, with 
 the forecastle gun, an eighteen-pounder, 
 out at the ports on the quarter-deck, and 
 cleared the ship for action, being deter- 
 mined they should not capture her, with- 
 out encountering a resistance worthy of 
 Americans. 
 
 At about seven o'cloclf, on the morning 
 of the eighteenth, the nearest ship ap- 
 proached within gunshot and directly 
 astern, seeing which, Hull ordered one of 
 the stern guns to be fired, to see if her 
 masts could be reached and disabled, but 
 the shot fell a little short. At eight, four 
 of the enemy's ships were nearly within 
 gunshot, some of them having six or eight 
 boats ahead towing, with all their oars and 
 sweeps out, to row them up to the Consti- 
 tution, which they were fast doing. It 
 thus appeared that the noble frigate must 
 be taken — that escape was impossible, — 
 four heavy ships being already so near, and 
 coming up fast, with not the least hope of 
 a breeze to give the Constitution a chance 
 of getting off by outsailing them. 
 
 In this situation, and finding himself in 
 on]y twenty-four fathoms of water, Hull, 
 adopting the advice of Lieutenant Morris, 
 determined to try and warj) the ship ahead, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 227 
 
 by carrying out anchors and warping her 
 up to them. Three or four hundred fatli- 
 onis of rope were instantly got up, and two 
 ancliors made ready and sent ahead, hy 
 which means the ship began to distance 
 the enem3''s squadron ; but the latter soon 
 saw this movement, and adopted the same 
 plan, under very advantageous circum- 
 stances, as all the boats from the British 
 ships furthermost off, were sent to tow and 
 warp up those nearest to the Constitution, 
 by which means they again came up, 
 almost within gun-shot reach. 
 
 From nine to twelve, Hull employed all 
 hands in warping the ship ahead, and in 
 starting some of the water in the main 
 hold to lighten her, which, with the heli) 
 of a slight breeze, enabled the Constitution 
 to rather gain upon the enemy. About 
 two, in the afternoon, all the boats from 
 the line-of-battle ship and from some of 
 the frigates were sent to the foremost frig- 
 ate, to endeavor to tow her along more 
 rapidly, but, a light air springing up, the 
 Constitution held way with her pursuer, 
 notwithstanding the latter had eight or ten 
 boats ahead, and all her sails furled to tow 
 her to windward. The wind continued 
 light until eleven at night, and Hull's 
 boats were kept ahead, towing and warp- 
 ing to keep out of the reach of the enemy, 
 three of the frigates being now very near; 
 at eleven, however, a fresh breeze blew 
 from the southward, when the boats came 
 alongside and were hoisted up, the ship 
 having too much way to keep them ahead. 
 
 On the nineteenth, the enemy stood six 
 sail in sight, still in chase, with all can- 
 vas spread, and very near. The Avind, 
 however, continued to increase, gradually, 
 during the whole day, and Hull gained six 
 or eight miles upon Broke, notwithstand- 
 ing the latter pressed on with ever}' inch 
 of sail he could fling to the breeze. The 
 hopes of the Americans were now un- 
 bounded in their buoyancy, and those 
 hopes were succeeded by unsj)eakable 
 exultation, when it was discovered, at day- 
 light on the morning of the twentieth, 
 that only three of the British vessels could 
 be seen from the mast-head, the nearest of 
 
 which was about twelve miles off, directly 
 astern. All hands were now set at work 
 wetting the Constitution's sails, from the 
 royals down, by means of the engine and 
 fire-buckets, and it was soon found that 
 the enemy was left far in the rear. At a 
 quarter-past eight, the British, fimling that 
 they were fast drojiping astern, gave over 
 chase, and hauled their wind to the north- 
 ward. The Constitution, being separated 
 from the rest of the American squadron, 
 made immediately for Boston, where she 
 arrived in safety, and remained a few days. 
 
 During the whole of this most remark- 
 able, as well as exciting and wearisome 
 chase, the gallant cre\y of the Constitution 
 remained steadfastly and cheerfully at 
 their stations, without murmur or confu- 
 sion, and not only they and their officers, 
 but the noble ship herself, gained a high 
 reputation for masterly movement and 
 behavior. Even the officers of the British 
 squadron expressed their admiration of the 
 consummate nautical knowledge and pro- 
 fessional adroitness displayed by Captain 
 Hull, in maneuvering his ship and effecting 
 his escape. 
 
 But it was soon to be proved that Hull 
 was no less a sea-warrior than a brilliant 
 strategical navigator. On the second day 
 
 CAPTAIN HULL. 
 
 of August, Hull again put to sea, pursuing 
 an easterly course. He passed near the 
 coast as far down as the bay of Fundy, 
 then ran off Halifax and Cape Sable ; but, 
 not seeing an}^ vessels for some days, Hull 
 steered toward Newfoundland, passed the 
 
228 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 isle of Sables, and took a station off the 
 gulf of St. Lawrence, to intercept the 
 Canada trade. While cruising here, he 
 captured two merchant-vessels. On the 
 fifteenth, he chased a convoy of five sail, 
 captured one of them, and prevented the 
 prize-ship of an American privateer from 
 being re-taken. Having received informa- 
 tion that the British squadron was off the 
 Grand Banks, and not far distant, he 
 changed his cruising-ground, and pro- 
 ceeded southward. 
 
 On the nineteenth of August, 1812, at 
 two o'clock in the afternoon, the Constitu- 
 tion being in latitude forty-one degrees 
 and forty-two minutes north, and fifty-five 
 degrees and thirty-three minutes west 
 longitude, off the coast of Massachusetts, 
 a ship was discovered from the mast-head 
 of the Constitution. Captain Hull in- 
 stantly made all sail in chase, and soon 
 gained on her. At three o'clock, it could 
 plainly be perceived that she was a man- 
 of-war, on the starboard tack, under easy 
 sail, close-hauled to the wind ; and by half- 
 past three the stranger was ascertained to 
 be a British frigate, — the Guerriere, Cap- 
 tain James A. Dacres. This vessel had 
 hoisted at her mast-head, a flag with her 
 assumed name, the Warrior, in large char- 
 acters, and on another were inscribed the 
 words, ' Xot the Little Belt^ — the latter 
 being a British sloop-of-war that had been 
 badly handled in an engagement with the 
 United States ship President. The Guer- 
 riere had looked into several ports inquest 
 of American frigates, and given a chal- 
 lenge to all vessels of her class. On tlie 
 heaving in sight, therefore, of the Consti- 
 tution, the British commander assembled 
 his crew, pointed to them the object of 
 their wishes, assured them of an easy vic- 
 tory, and was answered by three hearty 
 cheers. So, too, the announcement by 
 Captain Hull, that the ship in sight was a 
 British man-of-war, and probably of about 
 the same force as the Constitution, was 
 received with lively exultation by the 
 brave American crew. 
 
 Eager for battle and hopeful of victory, 
 Hull ordered the light sails to be taken in. 
 
 the courses to be hauled up, and the ship 
 to be cleared for action. The enemy now 
 backed her main-top-sail, and waited for 
 the Constitution to come down ; and as 
 soon as the latter was ready for action, she 
 bore down, intending to bring to im- 
 mediate engagement the British frigate 
 which had been from the very first, the 
 object of such eager attention by tlie 
 Americans, on account of her fine ap- 
 pearance and peculiar movements, and 
 leading to the supposition that she was 
 a craft of more than ordinary import- 
 ance in the estimation of the enemy, 
 — a sujjposition that did not fail to be 
 realized. 
 
 The very fact that she bore on one 
 of her flags the words just quoted, in- 
 dicated that the feeling engendered by 
 that event was a terribly sore one to 
 the British, and that, if it were a pos- 
 sible thing, the wound was to be healed, 
 at the first opportunity, by some sig- 
 nal act of retribution. 
 
 On the Constitution coming within gun- 
 shot, the Guerriere fired a broadside, then 
 filled away, wore, and gave a broadside on 
 the other tack; this firing, however, pro- 
 duced no effect, as the shot fell short. The 
 British frigate maneuvered, and wore sev- 
 eral times, for about three-quarters of an 
 hour, in order to obtain a raking position, 
 but, not succeeding in this, she bore up 
 under her top-sails and jib, with the wind 
 on the quarter. It is related that, during 
 this time, the Constitution not having 
 fired a single broadside, the imjDatience of 
 her officers and men to engage was so 
 excessive, that nothing but the most rigid 
 discipline could restrain them. Hull, 
 however, was preparing, with the utmost 
 calmness and deliberation,' to decide the 
 contest according to a method of his own. 
 
 Making sail so as to bring the Constitu- 
 tion directly \\\) with her antagonist, and, 
 at five minutes before six in the afternoon, 
 being alongside within half pistol shot, 
 Hull ordered a brisk firing to be com- 
 menced from all the Constitution's guns, 
 which were double-shotted with round and 
 grape shot ; and so well-directed and so 
 
GREAT A.ND MEMORAULE EVENTS. 
 
 229 
 
 warmly kept up was the Aincrican firo, 
 tluit, in tit'teen minutL'S, the luizzeii-inast 
 of the Guerriere went b}' tlie boaril, and 
 her main-yard in her slings. Her hull 
 was much injured, and her rigging and 
 sails completely torn into shreds. The 
 fire was kept up, in the same spirited 
 manner, for fifteen minutes longer, by the 
 Constitution. She had now taken a posi- 
 tion for raking, on the bows of the Guer- 
 riere, when the latter could only bring her 
 bow guns to bear on the Constitution ; the 
 grape-shot and small-arms of the latter 
 ship completely swept the decks of the 
 British frigate, and she was an utter 
 wreck. 
 
 Thirty minutes after the commencement 
 of the contest, by the Constitution, the 
 main-mast and fore-mast of the Guerriere 
 went by the board, taking with them every 
 spar except the bowsprit. Seeing her con- 
 dition, Captain Hull ordered the firing to 
 cease ; and Captain Dacres then struck his 
 colors, which had been fastened to the 
 stump of the mizzen-mast. 
 
 Setting her fore and main sails, the Con- 
 stitution now hauled to the eastward, to 
 repair damages. All her braces, a great part 
 of her standing and running rigging, and 
 some of her spars, were shot away. At 
 seven in the evening, she stood under the 
 lee of the prize, and sent a boat on board, 
 which returned in a short time with Captain 
 Dacres, commander of the ill-fated frigate. 
 In the action, the Constitution lost seven 
 killed, and seven wounded ; the Guerriere, 
 fifteen killed, and sixty-two wounded, — 
 the latter including several officers, and 
 there were twenty-four missing. Among 
 the killed, on board of the Constitution, 
 was Lieutenant Bush ; and among the 
 wounded. First Lieutenant Morris and 
 Master Alwyn. The circumstances were 
 as follows : As soon as the two vessels 
 fell afoul of each other, the cabin of 
 the Constitution was observed to take 
 fire, from the close explosion of the 
 forward guns of the enemy, who obtained 
 a small, though but momentary, advantage 
 from his position ; the ready attention, 
 however, of Lieutenant Hoffman, who 
 
 commanded in the cabin, soon repaired 
 this accident, and a gun of the enemy's, 
 that threatened further injury, was effect- 
 vuilly disabled. But, in a moment, affairs 
 took a more tragical turn, for, the vessels 
 having come close together, both parties 
 prepared to board The English turned 
 all hands up from below, and mustered for- 
 ward, with that object, while Lieutenant 
 Morris, jNLister Alwyn, and Lieutenant 
 Bush, sprang upon the taffrail of the Con- 
 stitution, with a similar intention. The 
 position of the two frigates was already 
 giving employment to the sharpshooters of 
 either side, and incessant volleys of mus- 
 ketry rattled in the tumult all around. 
 Morris was shot through the body, but 
 maintained his post, the bullet fortunately 
 missing the vitals. Alwyn was wounded 
 in the shoulder. Bush, just as he was 
 making the spring, was pierced by a ball 
 in the head, and tumbled headlong, in the 
 speedy agonies of death. 
 
 On the Guerriere's striking her flag, and 
 being in a sinking condition, Captain Hull 
 immediately sent his boats to bring the 
 wounded and prisoners on board the Con- 
 stitution. At aboiit two o'clock in the 
 afternoon, a sail was discovered off the lar- 
 board beam, standing to the south. The 
 Constitution was instantly cleared for 
 action ; but at three, the vessel stood 
 away. At daybreak, information was 
 received from the lieutenant on board the 
 prize, that the Guerriere was an unman- 
 ageable wreck, with four feet of water in 
 the hold, and in a sinking condition. As 
 soon, therefore, as all the crew were 
 removed from on board of her, she was 
 abandoned, and her shattered hulk set fire 
 to and blown up. During the whole 
 period of combat, the total loss on board 
 the Constitution amounted to seven killed 
 and seven wounded, and, as soon as she 
 had rove new rigging, applied the neces- 
 sary stoppers, and bent a few sails, she 
 was ready, as has been seen, to engage 
 another frigate. Captain Hull, in his 
 tribute to his crew, says : " The}^ all 
 fought with great bravery ; from the 
 smallest boy in the ship to the oldest 
 
230 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ACTION BETWEEN THE FRIGATES CONSTITUTION AND GUERRIERE. 
 
 seaman, not a look of fear was seen. They 
 all went into action giving three cheers, 
 and requesting to be laid close alongside 
 the enemy." In the very heat of the 
 engagement, one of the crew of the Con- 
 stitution, perceiving that the flag at the 
 foretop-mast head had been shot away, 
 went up with it, and lashed it so securely 
 
 as to render its removal impossible, unless 
 the mast went with it. 
 
 The total casualties, from first to last, 
 on board the Guerriere, in killed and 
 wounded, numbered nearl}' eighty, com- 
 prising about one-third of her entire crew, 
 and, according to the statement of Captain 
 Dacres, in his defense before the court 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 231 
 
 which tried him for the loss of his ship, 
 she had, besides being dismasted, received 
 no less than thirty shot as low as five 
 sheets of copper beneath the bends. 
 
 In respect to armament and force, the 
 Guerriere rated thirty-eight guns, and car- 
 ried forty-nine, one of which was a light 
 boat-carronade. Her gun-deck metal was 
 eighteen-pounders, and her carroiiades, like 
 those of the Constitution, thirty-twos. 
 The Guerriere was a French-built shiii, 
 and nearly as long as her adversary, 
 though the latter was somewhat larger and 
 heavier. The Constitution rated forty- 
 four guns, and mounted fifty-five. On an 
 actual weight, however, of '■he shot of both 
 ships, it was found that tne Constitution's 
 twenty-fours were only three pounds heav- 
 ier than the Guerriere's eighteens, and 
 there was nearly the same difference in 
 favor of the latter's thirty-twos. The 
 great inferiority of the Guerriere was in 
 her men, as she mustered but two hundred 
 and sixty-three souls at quarters, in conse- 
 quence of the absence of some of the offi- 
 cers and men who had charge of prizes. 
 Captain Dacres had also some ten or a 
 dozen Americans in his force, who refused 
 to fight, and, much to his credit, he per- 
 mitted them to go below. The Constitu- 
 tion's complement of men was four hundred 
 and fifty, all newly shipped. 
 
 The character and peculiarities of this 
 victory have been justly described, by 
 Cooper, as consisting in a fine display of 
 seamanship in the approach, extraordinary 
 efficiency in the attack, and great readiness 
 in repairing damages, all of which denote a 
 disciplined man-of-war. Nor did Captain 
 Dacres lose any professional honor by his 
 defeat. He had handled his ship in a 
 manner to win the applause of his enemies, 
 and only submitted when further resist- 
 ance would have been as culpable as, in 
 fact, it was impossible. Less can be said in 
 favor of the efficiency of the Guerriere's 
 batteries, which were not equal to the mode 
 of fighting introduced by her antagonist, 
 and which, indeed, was the commencement 
 of a new era in combats between single 
 ships. Never was any firing so dreadful. 
 
 The news of this brilliant and unexam- 
 pled victory — the first, in fact, of any 
 importance, as yet obtained by the United 
 States in the present contest, — was 
 received with rapturous applause by the 
 American people, especially in view of the 
 victory having been achieved on the water, 
 an element upon which scarcely any Euro- 
 pean nation dared to cope with Brit- 
 ish prowess. The event was therefore as 
 mortifying to the pride of England as can 
 possibly be imagined ; for, in the long 
 period of thirty years up to this date, it 
 was Britain's boast that she had not lost a 
 single frigate in anything like an equal 
 conflict. By the English journals, the 
 American navy was contemptuously spoken 
 of as "a few fir-built frigates, manned by 
 a handful of dastards and outlaws ! " But 
 the generosit}' and heroism of Captain 
 Hull and his crew extorted praise even 
 from the vanquished. Captain Dacres, in 
 his official letter, confesses their conduct 
 to have been " that of a brave enemy — the 
 greatest care being taken to prevent our 
 men losing the slightest article, and the 
 greatest attention being paid to the 
 wounded." This victory of Hull, on the 
 ocean, went far to wipe out the stain upon 
 American arms jjroduced by General Wil- 
 liam Hull's unfortunate campaign in 
 Canada. The victory of the Constitution 
 over the Guerriere was soon followed by 
 the capture of the Frolic by the United 
 States sloop-of-war Wasp, under Lieuten- 
 ant Biddle ; the capture of the Macedo- 
 nian, a large frigate, by Commodore 
 Decatur, of the frigate United States ; and 
 the capture of the frigate Java, on the 
 twenty-ninth of December, by Commodore 
 Bainbridge, who had succeeded Hull in 
 command of the Constitution. 
 
 An amusing anecdote is related of 
 Dacres, showing the effect of circum- 
 stances upon the gallant captain's temper. 
 A short time previous to her capture by 
 the Constitution, the Guerriere had fallen 
 in with, and taken, a French prize, France 
 and England being then at war. Among 
 the passengers transferred on this occasion 
 to the deck of the Guerriere, was a French 
 
232 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 gentleman charged with dispatches to the 
 American government, and who, on pre- 
 senting himself to the British commander, 
 was dispossessed of his hooks and papers, 
 and peremptorily ordered to go helow. 
 Overwhelmed with this sudden and fatal 
 termination of his mission, the gentleman 
 passed several days in great distress of 
 mind, aggravated not a little by the 
 haughty bearing of Dacres. Once or 
 twice, addressing him with his blandest 
 manner and best English, he said — 
 
 " Captain Dacre, I tank you, sare, for 
 my government deespatch and my law 
 books." 
 
 "■ Go below ! you frog-eating, sallow- 
 faced wretch," was the only reply of the 
 proud Briton. 
 
 Ere long, however, a sail was descried 
 on the edge of the distant horizon. Her 
 gradually-increasing size gave token that 
 she approached, and, as she neared to 
 view, the tapering spars and the graceful 
 trim of Yankeedom were seen. Dacres, 
 with glass in hand, had observed her from 
 a mere speck, and as soon as he was satis- 
 fied that she Avas American, gave vent to 
 the wildest expressions of joy. He paced 
 the deck with exulting step — swore he 
 would 'take that craft in fifteen minutes,' — 
 and, to crown his anticipated triumph, 
 directed that a hogshead of molasses be 
 
 hoisted upon deck, ' to treat the 
 
 Yankees.' Strange as it may appear, this 
 order was actually obeyed ; and, at almost 
 the first shot, the Constitution struck the 
 hogshead, and, its contents spreading over 
 the deck, conduced somewhat, no doubt, to 
 the Guerriere's disadvantage in the action. 
 The Frenchman, who was meanwhile a 
 silent though not an uninterested observer 
 of what was passing before him, again 
 put on his most winning smiles, and 
 remarked — 
 
 *' Captain Dacre, sare, wid your permis- 
 sion I stay upon deck, and see de fight." 
 
 " Go to the ," responded the rough 
 
 old salt — now busied in preparations for a 
 bold and brilliant achievement. 
 
 The little Frenchman was soon snugly 
 ensconced among the rigging, and the two 
 
 vessels continued gradually and silently to 
 approach each other. The Constitution 
 having finally got within reach of the 
 enemy's long-guns, the scene that followed 
 is thus described by the lively "deespatch" 
 bearer : — " Cajitain Dacre, he sail dis way, 
 and den he sail dat waj^, and again he go 
 — boom ! De Yankee man, he say nothing 
 — but still keep comin'. Again, Captain 
 Dacre sail dis way, and den he sail dat 
 way, and again he go — boom ! Enfin, de 
 Yankee man go pop, pop, pop, — pop, pop, 
 pop ! I say to Captain Dacre, ' Sare, wid 
 your permission I go below — ^tis too hot 
 here!''" 
 
 He went below ; and the action con- 
 tinued. When the firing ceased, the sleep- 
 less little Frenchman, pee23ing up the 
 hatchway, espied one officer-like man, and 
 Captain Dacres handing his sword. The 
 truth flashed upon him in an instant. He 
 rushed u^ion deck ; and finding himself 
 again at liberty, he capered about like one 
 'possessed.' Finally advancing to the 
 now mute and fallen Dacres, he said, with 
 an air which utterly defies description : 
 
 " You tell me, sare, 3'ou take dis shij? in 
 fifteen minutes ; by gar, he take you ! 
 Now, sare," he added, with a low and 
 bitter emphasis, " I tank you for my gov- 
 ernment deespatch and law books.'"' 
 
 As has already been stated, the crew of 
 the Constitution became somewhat impa- 
 tient at Hull's cool delay to commence 
 action, after receiving the Guerriere's first 
 fire. Even Morris, on seeing his favorite 
 coxswain carried by a shot, looked rather 
 hard at ' the old man,' as Hull, though 
 young in years, was familiarly called, and 
 then walked up to him, saying, by way of 
 hint, in a low tone, "The ship is ready for 
 action, sir, and the men are getting impa- 
 tient." Hull never turned, but, keeping 
 his eye steadily on the enemy. sini])]y 
 replied, " Are — you — all ready, Mr. 
 Morris ? " " All ready," said the lieuten- 
 ant. "Don't fire a gun till I give the 
 orders, Mr. Morris," was the rejoinder. 
 Presently, up went a midshi])man from the 
 main deck, and, touching his cap, said to 
 ' the old man,' " First division all readj^, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 233 
 
 sir, — the second lieutenant reports the 
 enemy's shot liave hurt his men, and he 
 can witli dilHculty restrain them from 
 returning their lire." " Tell them to wait 
 for orders," was Hull's rejjly again, with- 
 out deigning to turn his head. At length, 
 however, when the Constitution had actu- 
 ally become enveloped in the enemy's 
 smoke, and even the old gun-boat men 
 began to stare w^onderingly, up jumped the 
 great-hearted Hull in the air, slapped his 
 hand on his thigh witli a report like a 
 pistol, and roared out in a voice that 
 reached the gunners in tlie magazines, — 
 
 " Now, Mr. Morris, give it to them, — 
 now give it to them, — fore and aft, — round 
 and grape, — give it to 'em, sir, — give it to 
 
 \ni ! " 
 
 These words were scarcely uttered, 
 before a whole broadside glanced at half 
 pistol shot — the old ship trembling from 
 her keel to her trucks, like an aspen, 
 with the roar and crash of her own guns, 
 — then, instantly shooting ahead and 
 doubling across the enemy's bows, another 
 
 broadside was poured into her, with 
 three deafening cheers. It was terrible. 
 The continual boom and flash of the 
 batteries seemed like a thunder-storui in 
 the tropics. 
 
 The Constitution arrived in Boston 
 harbor, the last of August. Never did any 
 event spread such universal joy over the 
 whole country, and such astonishment 
 throughout Europe, as this complete and 
 magnificent victory. The gallant Hull, 
 as well as his equally-gallant officers and 
 crew, were received with enthusiastic dem- 
 onstrations of gratitude, wherever they 
 appeared. He was presented with the 
 freedom of all the cities, on his route to the 
 seat of government, and with elegant serv- 
 ices of silver-plate, also tlie thanks of leg- 
 islative and other bodies ; several officers 
 were promoted ; and congress voted fifty 
 thousand dollars to the crew, as a recom- 
 pense for the loss of the prize. 
 
 At home and abroad, the valor of the 
 American sailor was acknowledged to be 
 a fixed fact. 
 
XXIV. 
 
 AMERICA AND 
 OTHER 
 
 ENGLAND MATCHED AGAINST 
 IN SQUADRON COMBAT.— 1813. 
 
 EACH 
 
 Lake Erie the Scene of the Encounter. — Sixteen Vessels Engaged. — The British, 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 .^ailing 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 Wliole Opposing 
 Fleet. — Badly Crippled in a Two Hours' Fight. — Huzzas of the Enemy. — The Day Supposed to be 
 Theirs — Indomitable Peso!ution of Perry. — He Puts Off in an Open Boat. — Reaches the Niagara with 
 His Flag. — Again Battles with tlie Foe. — Severe and Deadly Conflict. — American Prowess Invincible. 
 — Barclay Strikes His Colors. — Perry only Twenty-seven Years Old. 
 
 "■Wehavemet the enemy, and they ars oura."— Perry's Memorable Dispatch ANNOUNCiira His Viotobt, 
 
 OREIGN nations, who still smiled incredulously at the pre- 
 tensions of the United States in carrying on an ocean war- 
 •3 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 
 frigate Constitution over the Guerriere, fresh and decisive 
 PERRY'S FLAG ON LAKE ERIE, proof of the uaval 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 235 
 
 winds, afforded but few harbors, and those 
 encumbered with bars at tlieir entrance. 
 At Presque IsU>, ninety miles west of Huf- 
 falo, a peninsuhi extending a considerable 
 distance into the lake encircles a harbor, on 
 tlie 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 lake. The 
 difficulties of building a navy in the wil- 
 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, or from 
 Philadelphia by the way of Pittsburg. 
 But under all these embarrassments, by 
 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 off 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 w-ater 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 ships, 
 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, 
 opi)osite to and distant thirty miles from 
 Maiden, where the British fleet lay under 
 the guns of the fort. He remained at 
 anchor lierc 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 Aveigh, 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 Trij)pe, and schooners Tigress and 
 Porcupine, of one gun each. 
 
 The force of the British consisted of the 
 Detroit, flag-ship of Commodore Barclay, 
 and carrying 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 slooji Little 
 Belt, of three guns ; and the schooner 
 Chippewa, of one gun and two swivels. 
 Thus, the belligerents stood, in resj^ect to 
 force and power, as follows : The Anuni- 
 cans had nine vessels, carrying fiftj'-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 b}' signal 
 to the deck of the Lawrence, he gave them 
 in a few words their last instructions ])re- 
 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 UP THE SHIP ! " The sight of this 
 flag, bearing upon it the d3'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 
 
236 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 intention to bring the enemy to close quar- 
 ters from the first, and that he coukl not 
 advise them better than in the words of 
 Lord Nelson — " If you lay your enemy 
 close alongside, 30U can not be out of your 
 place." As soon, therefore, as the ajD- 
 2:)roach 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 baffling; 
 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 shij) 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, tlit'ij slid II fi'jlif 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 
 intervals, 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 gradually 
 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 up on deck, to 
 have a hand in the fight, the sailing-master 
 said : 
 
 " Go below, Mays, you 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 
 i^ump, 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 noonday-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, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 237 
 
 your honor ! " was the prompt reply, as 
 they touched their tarpaulins, or the hand- 
 kerchiefs in which some of them had 
 wrapped their heads, that they might be as 
 unencumbered as possible for the fight. 
 ■'But I need not say anything to you," 
 r.'joined their commander — '^ i/oa know 
 how to beat these fellows" — and he passed 
 on. His face now beamed with a smile of 
 friendly interest as he recognized some of 
 his fellow-townsmen, exclaiming, " Ah, 
 here are the Newport boys ! TJieij 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 nearly 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 gunner, 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 i.Timinent 
 hazard of his situation, Perry made all 
 sail, and directed the other vessels to 
 follow, for the purj)Ose of closing with the 
 
 enemy. The tremendous fije, 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, Avithin 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, 
 nearly the whole of her crew were either 
 killed or wounded ; 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 half," 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 obe.yed ; and at the seventh 
 call, I told him he had them all. He 
 asked if any could pull a rope, when two 
 or tliree of the wounded crawled upon deck 
 to IcikI a feeble hand in pulling at the last 
 guns." So close and desperate was this 
 
238 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 
 
 •"^ ^il 
 
 
 conflict ; so brave and courageous 
 the liearts of those wlio fought for 
 the honor and rights of America. 
 
 It was two o'clock, and Captain 
 Elliott, of the Niagara, was 
 enabled by the aid of a fresh 
 breeze to bring his ship into 
 close action in gallant style. 
 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 hauled down his 
 union-jack, and, taking it under 
 his arm, ordered a boat to put 
 him on board the Niagara. He 
 passed the line of the enemy, 
 exposed to a perfect shower of 
 their musketry, still standing in 
 the boat, — waving his sword and 
 gallantly cheering his men, — a 
 marked and pointed object from 
 three of the enemy's ships, until 
 he Avas forcibly ]3ulled 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 yet 
 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 — thei/ have lost us the 
 victory ! " 
 
 " No ! " exclaimed Elliott ; " do 
 3^ou 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 539 
 
 kept back by the lightness of tlie wind. 
 At this moment, tlie 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 his 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 part 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 b^' two gun-boats, and captured. 
 Thus, after a contest of three hours, was a 
 naval victory achieved by the Americans, 
 in Avhich every vessel of the enemy was 
 captured. If anything could enhance its 
 brillianc}^ it was the modest and laconic 
 manner in which, Csesar-like, it was 
 announced by the gallant victor — 
 "we have met the enemy, and they 
 
 ARE OURS ! " 
 
 The carnage in this action was 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 
 
2lU 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 
 Tiim 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 Tecumseh, 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 sloop- 
 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, 
 Erenchtown, and some other points ; but 
 lost the battles of York, Eort Meigs, and 
 tlie 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 Ferry, was well 
 calculated to fill the nation with joy. 
 
 Tlie 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 eyes, and with outstretched 
 arms of welcome ; but the salutation was 
 a silent one on both sides, — so overcome 
 with emotion Avere the hearts of these 
 brave men, that not a word could find 
 utterance. The princijjal loss in the 
 whole action was on board the Lawrence, 
 so indomitable was Perry's resolution not 
 to be conquered. In memor}^ 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 by 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMOllABLE EVENTS. 
 
 241 
 
 manner. The crews of botli fleets united 
 in the cerenlon3^ The autumnal stilhiess 
 of the weatlier — the procession of boats — 
 the music — tlie slow and 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 tlie terrible conflict of the preceding 
 day. Two American and three British 
 ofticers were inten-ed side by side of each 
 other, in this lonely place of sepulture, on 
 the margin of the lake, a few paces from 
 the beach. 
 
 In his official dispatch. Perry speaks in 
 the highest terms of the co-o[)eration, 
 bravery and judgment, of his associate, 
 Captain Elliott. Nevertheless, there is 
 universal agreement with the assertion 
 made by Mackenzie, the appreciating biog- 
 rapher of this heroic commander, that the 
 battle of Erie was vron not merely by the 
 genius and inspiration^ but eminently by 
 the exertions, of one man, — a young man 
 of tvi^enty-seven, who had never beheld a 
 naval engagemeni. He had dashed boldly 
 into action with tho Lawrence, trusting 
 that the rear of \\h line would soon be 
 able to close up to 2i]?. support. Sustained, 
 however, only by cLo Caledonia, the Ariel, 
 rmd the Scorpion, he resisted for two hours 
 or more the whole of the British squadron. 
 Overcome at last. Perry made a new ar- 
 Tangement of his remaining resources, and 
 'Hatched 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 
 Harrison to recover from the British in- 
 vaders the American territory which they 
 had occupied, and to pursue them into 
 Canada, where, on the fifth of October, 
 they were totally routed in the battle of 
 the Thames. Nearly all the British force 
 was either captured or slain, and their 
 famous Indian ally, Tecumseh, here ended 
 his life. 
 
 16 
 
XXY. 
 
 CONQUEST AND BURNING OF WASHINGTON, BY THE 
 
 BRITISH.— 1814. 
 
 Precipitate Flight of the President of tlie United States, and His Cabinet — The Capitals of Europe 
 Protected from Fire and Devastation by Tlieir Conquerors. — Contrast of Britisii Warfare in America. 
 — The Capitol, Presidential Mansion, etc , Sacked and Fired. — National Indignation Aroused by These 
 Barbarities. — "Veterans from Europe's Battle-Fields Execute tliese Deeds. — Orders to "Lay Waste" 
 the American Coast — njjerations at tiie Soutii. — Washington the Prize in View — Inefficiency of its 
 Defense.— Winder and Harney in Command — The Idea of an Attack Scouted.— Onward March of 
 the Invaders — Fearful Excitement in tlie City— High Officials in Camp — Tlie Armies at Bladens- 
 burg. — Winder Defeated, Barney Taken — Ross's Progress Unopposed — Complete Master of the 
 
 ^ ^;55j;^g5.,;^^j-3^-=^-'-=-=-— City. — A Rush for the Spoils. — Britisii Soldiers in the White 
 
 s§aE^^^°^ "^^ House — They Eat the President's Dinner — Cockburn's 
 
 ^ Bold Infamy. — Retreat of the Vandal Foe. — Their March 
 f!'^i\ _=^-, Upon Baltimore — Ross Shot Dead in the Fight. 
 
 " I will make a cow-paeture of these Yankee Capitol grounds."— General Ross. 
 
 A CL0Ur> ox THE NATIONAL 
 ESCUTCHEON. 
 
 'ARDLY any event connected Avith the second war -witl. 
 Great Britain aroused so universal a spirit of indignation 
 on tlie part of the people of the United States — so united 
 a sentiment of hostility — against their ancient enemy, as 
 tlie capture and burning of Washington citj', the federal 
 capital, August twentj'-fourth, 1814. 
 The commencement of tliis year was distinguished by military and political occur-, 
 rences of transcendent importance, sucli as the entry of the allied armies into Paris, 
 the forced abdication of Napoleon, his exile to Elba, and the establishment of general 
 peace on the continent. But tliese momentous transactions, which filled the European 
 world with almost boundless exultation, i)roduced in America a very ditferent impres- 
 sion. The fact of pacification having been, at last, definiteh^ accomplished throughout 
 Europe, offered to the British a large disposable force, both naval and military, — that 
 which had been so successfully instrumental in overthrowing the greatest power and 
 most masterly warrior in the world. With tliis force, England resolved on giving to 
 the war in America a character of new and increased activity and extent ; and the 
 roj'al authorities accordingly promulgated it as their determined purpose to lay waste 
 the whole American coast, from Maine to Georgia. 
 
 In pursuance of this sanguinary juogramme of operations, Admiral Sir Alexander 
 Cockburn was intrusted with the British naval armament, and the army Mas jnit in 
 command of M ijor-Gjneral Ross, a brave leader in the Peninsula wars, under Welliiig- 
 ton, the conqueror of Napoleon. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 243 
 
 About the middle of August, an English 
 squadron of bi'twcen fifty and sixty sail 
 arrived in the Cliesa[)eake, with troops 
 destined to strike the first deeisive blow, 
 namely, an attack on Washington, the 
 metropolis of the United States. Of the 
 American forces, General Winder, as the 
 successor of General Van Ness, aided by 
 General Walter Brown and John E. How- 
 ard, was in command of the army, and 
 Commodore Barney of the flotilla. The 
 enemy divided his force into three parts. 
 One division was sent up the Potomac, 
 under Captain Gordon, for the purpose of 
 bombarding Fort Warburton, and opening 
 the way to the city of Washington ; and 
 another, under Sir Peter Parker, was 
 dispatched to threaten Baltimore. 
 
 The main body ascended the Patuxent, 
 apparently with the intention of destroy- 
 ing Commodore Barney's flotilla, which 
 had taken refuge at the head of that river, 
 but with the real intention, as it was soon 
 discovered, of attacking Washington. In 
 the prosecution of this plan, the expedition 
 proceeded to Benedict, the head of frigate 
 navigation. This place, on the west bank 
 of the Patuxent, was reached on the nine- 
 teenth of August ; and, on the next day, 
 the debarkation of the land forces under 
 General Ross, to the number of six thou- 
 sand, was completed. On the twent3'-first, 
 pursuing the course of the river, the troops 
 moved to Nottingham, and on the twenty- 
 second arrived at Upper Marlborough ; a 
 flotilla, consisting of launches and barges, 
 under Cockburn's command, ascending the 
 river and keeping pace with them. The 
 day following, the flotilla of Commodore 
 Barney, in obedience to orders to that 
 effect, was blown up b}' men left for that 
 purj^ose, the commodore having already 
 joined General Winder with his seamen 
 and marines. 
 
 At this time, when the invading army 
 was within twenty miles of the capital, 
 Winder was at the head of only three 
 thousand men, one-half of whom were mili- 
 tia entirely untried. The Baltimore mili- 
 tia, those from Annapolis, and the Vir- 
 ginia detachment, had not yet arrived. 
 
 His camp was at the Woodyard, twelve 
 miles from AVashington. It was still 
 doubtful whether the British intende<l an 
 attack upon Fort Warburton, which could 
 offer but little resistance to their land 
 forces, although it could be formidable to 
 their ships, or intended to march directly 
 on Washington. The secretary of war, 
 General Armsti'ong, himself an old soldier, 
 scouted the idea of an attack on the capi- 
 tal, saying, energetically' — 
 
 *• Have they artillery ? No. Have t ley 
 cavalry ? No. Then don't tell an old sol- 
 dier that any regular army will or can come. 
 We are more frightened than hurt, or 
 likely to be. What do they want, what 
 can they get, in this slierp-walh? (as he 
 ironicall}' termed the 'city of magnificent 
 distances.') If they want to do anything, 
 the}' must go to Baltimore, not come to 
 this barren wilderness!" 
 
 But the secretary's military judgment 
 was found to be at fault, as events soon 
 showed. Alarmed at the threatening 
 aspect of affairs. President INIadison con- 
 vened a special cabinet-council, to devise 
 measures for meeting the extraordinary 
 emergency. The District of Columbia, 
 with parts of the adjacent states, was con- 
 stituted a distinct military department, 
 and a pi'oclamation was issued for the 
 assembling of congress at a speedy da}'. 
 But, in anticijiation of such movements as 
 these, the British army again set out, on 
 the afternoon of the twenty-second, and, 
 after skirmishing with the Americans, 
 halted for the night. General Winder 
 now retreated to a place called the Old 
 Fields, which covered Bladensburg, the 
 bridces on the east branch of the Potomac, 
 and Fort Warburton. Colonel Monroe, 
 the secretary of state, and subsequently 
 president of the United States, had been 
 with the commanding general for several 
 da^'S, assisting him with his counsel, and 
 actively engaged in reconnoitering the 
 enemy. Late in the evening of the 
 twenty-second. President Madison, the 
 secretaries of war and navy, and the attor- 
 ney-general, joined General Winder; here 
 they slept that night, and remained on the 
 
244 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ground until the evening of the twenty- 
 third, when, in view of the possibility of 
 an immediate attack, it was concluded to 
 abandon that position, and retire to the 
 eastern branch bridge. 
 
 On the morning of the twenty-third. 
 General Winder's army had been duly 
 mustered and reviewed by the president. 
 It then consisted of four hundred horse, 
 under the command of Colonel Tilghman ; 
 four hundred regular troops, under Colonel 
 Scott; six hundred marines and flotilla 
 men, under Commodore Barney ; and Cap- 
 tain Miller, with five pieces of heavy 
 ordnance, and eighteen hundred militia ; 
 — forming an aggregate of three thousand 
 two hundred men, with seventeen pieces 
 of artillery. The general staff consisted 
 of the president of the United States, as 
 commander-in-chief, the secretaries of 
 state, war, and navy, the attorney-general, 
 
 and General Winder. At Bladensburg, 
 General Stansljury had arrived from Bal- 
 timore, with his brigade of drafted militia; 
 also, the fifth regiment, consisting of the 
 elite of the Baltimore city brigade, under 
 Colonel Sterrett, a battalion of riflemen 
 under Major Pinckney, and Myers's and 
 Magruder's companies of artillery, with 
 six field-pieces. 
 
 Tlie invading army at Upper Marlbor- 
 ough, on the twenty-third, did not exceed 
 four thousand five hundred effective men, 
 without cavalry, wagons, or means of 
 transportation, and with but three pieces 
 of light artillery, drawn by men. The 
 fome romninod at Upper Marlborough 
 
 until the afternoon of the twenty-third, 
 Avhen they commenced their march towards 
 Washington, by the way of Bladens- 
 burg. Colonel Scott and Major Peter, 
 with light detachments, were sent out to 
 meet and harass the enemy, and General 
 Stansbury was ordered to proceed with the 
 troops under his command, on the route 
 direct to Upper Marlborough. Colonel 
 Scott, with his detachment, met the Brit- 
 ish about six miles in advance of the main 
 body, and, after some skirmishing, 
 retreated. The American army at Old 
 Fields, were placed in a favorable attitude 
 of defense; they remained in their position 
 until evening, when, apprehending the 
 approach of the enemy, they were ordered 
 to march to Washington. The British 
 encamped that evening three miles in 
 front of the position which the American 
 troops had left. The retreat of the latter 
 towards the city was precipitate and dis- 
 orderl}^, the enemy being supposed to be 
 in close pursuit. 
 
 General Winder, on the morning of the 
 twenty-fourth, had established his head- 
 quarters, with the main body, at the east- 
 ern branch bridge. His force here amounted 
 to three thousand five hundred men ; Gen- 
 eral Stansbury was four miles in front at 
 Bladensburg, with twenty-five hundred ; 
 Colonel Minor, with seven hundred in 
 the city of Washington, — endeavoring to 
 get across to the arsenal ; and General 
 Young's brigade of five hundred, twelve 
 miles below, on the left bank of the 
 Potomac. 
 
 Various reports were brought to head- 
 quarters, of the movements and intentions 
 of the British. The president and heads 
 of departments assembled at General 
 Winder's in the morning. The secretary 
 of state, upon hearing a rumor that the 
 British were mai-ching upon the capital by 
 the way of Bladensburg, proceeded to join 
 General Stansbury, to aid him in forming 
 a line of battle. That commander, on the 
 approach of the enemy, retired from liis 
 position in advance of Bladensburg, and 
 occupied the gi'ound west of the village, on 
 the ricrht bank of the eastern branch. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 245 
 
 Here it was at last resolved to meet the 
 enemj', ami Jiijht the battle that was to 
 decide the fate of the metropolis. 
 
 The best arrangements that time would 
 permit were made. About live hundred 
 yards from the bridge, the artillery from 
 Baltimore, consisting of six six-jiounders, 
 under the command of Captains Myers and 
 !Magruder, were posted behind a kind of 
 breastwork; and Major Pinekney's rifle- 
 men were placed in ambush to the right and 
 left, so as to annoy the enemy when 
 attempting to cross the stream, and at the 
 same time, in conjunction with Captain 
 Doughtv's company, to support the artil- 
 lery. The fifth Baltimore regiment was 
 drawn up about fifty 3'ards in the rear, 
 but afterwards removed much further. 
 The other parts of the brigade were also 
 so disposed as to support the artillery, and 
 annoy the enemy in his approach. Shortly 
 after this disposition was made, Lieuten- 
 ant-Colonel Beall arrived with about five 
 hundred men from Annapolis, and was 
 posted higher up in a wood on the right of 
 the road. General Winder having, by 
 this time, brought up his main body, had 
 formed it in the rear of Stansbury's brig- 
 ade, and in a line with Beall's detachment, 
 and the heavy artillery under Commodore 
 Barney posted to the right on an eminence 
 near the road. This line had scarcely 
 been formed, when the engagement com- 
 menced. This was about twelv^e o'clock, the 
 movement being as follows: 
 
 On the hill which overhangs the stream, 
 a column of the British made its appear- 
 ance, and moved down towards the bridge, 
 throwing rockets, and apparently deter- 
 mined to force the passage. He now made 
 an attempt to throw a strong body of 
 infantry across the stream, but a few well- 
 directed shot from the artillery compelled 
 him to shelter himself behind some houses. 
 After a considerable pause, a large column 
 of the British rapidly advanced in the face 
 of the battery, which, although managed 
 by skillful and courageous officers, was un- 
 able to repress them ; and they c )ntinued 
 to push forward, until they formed a con- 
 siderable body on the Washington road- 
 
 These troops had not advanced far, 
 when the company under Captain Dough t}^, 
 having discharged their i)le(es, fled, in 
 spite of the efforts of their commander and 
 of Major I'inckney to rally them. Had 
 they known their power, liowever, they 
 would have stood their ground; for it is 
 stated, on the best historical authority, 
 that when General Ross, leading on his 
 troops, recoiHJoitered the militia stationed 
 on the rising ground, he was alarmed at 
 their formidable appearance. But he had 
 gone too far to retreat ; the order was 
 given to move forward. His alarm was of 
 short continuance. A few congreve rock- 
 ets put the Maryland militia to flight ; the 
 riflemen followed; the artillery, after firing 
 not more than twice, rapidly retreated ; 
 then the Baltimore regiment, on which 
 some hopes were placed, fled also. 
 
 The British now moved on slowly, until 
 they were checked by the marines under 
 Barney. Finding it impossible to force 
 the position of the marines and sailors in 
 front, detachments filed by the right and 
 k'ft and passed up ravines. At the head 
 of one was stationed the Annapolis regi- 
 ment, which, as has already been men- 
 tioned, fled at the first fire. At the head 
 of the other ravine were placed some reg- 
 ulars and militia ; they also showed their 
 instinct of self-preservation, by getting 
 out of harm's way as soon as possible. 
 The sailors and marines, thus deserted, 
 and in danger of being surrounded, retired, 
 their guns and wounded companions 
 falling into the hands of the enemy. 
 Owing to the vigorous fire of the marines, 
 the r>ritish lost a large number of men, — 
 nearly a thousand, in killed, wounded, and 
 missing; the loss of the Americans was a 
 little rising of two hundred. At the time 
 Commodore Barney ordered a retreat, the 
 British were in his rear, and he war made 
 prisoner. As he lay wounded by the side 
 of the fence, he beckoned to a British 
 soldier, and directed him to call an offi- 
 cer. General Ross himself immediately 
 rode uj), and, on being informed of Bar- 
 ney's rank and situation, caused him to be 
 treated with that gallantry which his char- 
 
246 
 
 OUR FIRST CEXTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 acter merited, ordered liis wounds to be 
 dressed, and paroled him. Barney offered 
 his watch, as a gift to tlie soldier who had 
 so obligingly- served him, but the English- 
 man replied — 
 
 '■'■ I can help a brave man ivithout jyajj." 
 ]\[uch has been said, by critics and his- 
 torians, concerning the course pursued by 
 the chief magistrate of the nation, during 
 
 PRESIDENT MADISON. 
 
 these occurrences around and within the 
 metropolis. Before the American troops 
 broke (says IngersoiJ), while showers of 
 rockets were flying where the president 
 stood, he was requested by General 
 Winder to retire out of their reach, and 
 M'ith his cabinet he withdrew by inglori- 
 ous but not ignominious retreat; although 
 everything demonstrated that a field of 
 battle was not Madison's theater of action. 
 Wilkinson's account imputes to General 
 Armstrong, secretary of war, the assertion 
 that the 'little man' — meaning Mr. Mad- 
 ison — said to the veteran whom he would 
 not allow to fight, '-Come, General Arm- 
 strong, come. Colonel Monroe, let us go, 
 and leave it to the commanding general ;" 
 words which may well have been used, 
 without involving any imputation of cow- 
 ardice against the utterer. It is extremely 
 uncommon for conspicuous men, sur- 
 rounded as the president was, to betray 
 apprehension, even if they feel it. Arm- 
 strong, when the troops fled, gave vent to 
 his mortification in strong terms, addressed 
 to the president, of disgust at so base and 
 cowardly a flight, and no doubt the presi- 
 
 dent, amazed and confounded by the trep- 
 idation of the troops, retired, as Colonel 
 Monroe his secretary of state did, dis- 
 heartened ; General Armstrong indignant; 
 and Mr. Rush, the 3-oungest and only 
 hoping one of the administration, ashamed ; 
 soon followed by General Winder, demor- 
 alized by the whole of the front line van- 
 ishing in wild disorder from the conflict. 
 During the da}', Mr. Madison frequently 
 dispatched notes, penciled on horseback, 
 to his Avife, to keep her informed of its 
 vicissitudes. More than Winder feared 
 and Armstrong jjredicted of inexperienced 
 troops Avas realized in the twinkling of an 
 eye. The victory Avas won, fully and com- 
 pletely, by the British ; and it required 
 only to realize in fact, Avhat Avas noAV being 
 carried ovit in spirit, the threat of the 
 commanding inA^ader, " / will make a coiv- 
 pasture of these Yankee capital grounds ! '' 
 Among those Avho exhibited conspicuous 
 bravery, as participants in these scenes, 
 Avere Hugh McCulloch and John P. Ken- 
 ned}', so prominent in national affairs in 
 after years. 
 
 ^y the issue of this battle, General Ross 
 obtained possession of the bridge OA'er the 
 eastern branch of the Potomac. After 
 halting his army for a short time for 
 refreshment, he, with Admiral Cockburn, 
 rode slowly into the Avilderness city, almost 
 ever}' male inhabitant of Avhieh Avas then 
 absent, either in arms, or in distant hiding- 
 places, — some kee[)ing close in their dwell- 
 ings. Many passed the night in huts and 
 cornfields around the town. The first 
 considerable dwelling the enemy Avas to 
 pass had been j\Ir. Gallatin's residence, 
 the house of INIr. Sewall, some hundred 
 yards east of the capitol. Prom behind 
 the side Avail of that house, as is supjiosed, 
 at all events from or near to it, a solitary' 
 musket, fired by some excited and perhaps 
 intoxicated person, believed to be a well- 
 known Irish bai'ber, aimed at General 
 Ross, killed the bay mare he rode. In 
 Ross's official report, no mention is made 
 of this affair; but his naval companion. 
 Admiral Cockburn, not only introduces it 
 in his account, but exaggerates and falsi- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 247 
 
 fies the incident into wliat he diaracter- 
 izes as "many similar acts of universal 
 wanton enormity;" absurdly calling it a 
 lieavy fire from the capitol, wliich was 
 more than twice gun-shot distant ! The 
 house from which this shot came was at 
 once burned by the soldiery, and all its 
 inmates slain. Other houses also shared 
 the same fate, one of these being General 
 AVashington's house, the unprovoked de- 
 struction of which General Ross much 
 regretted, on being informed of its owner- 
 ship. 
 
 Having arrived on capitol hill, General 
 Ross offered terms of capitulation, which 
 were, that the city might be ransomed 
 for a sum of money nearly equal to the 
 value of the public and private property 
 it contained, and that, on receiving it, the 
 troops should retire to their ships unmo- 
 lested. But there being, at the time, 
 neither civil nor military authorities at 
 Washington, by whom the jiropositions 
 could be received, the work of vandalism 
 commenced, — Cockburn being the soul of 
 these outrages. It became, at last, a per- 
 fect Cossack rush for spoils. 
 
 To the third brigade, that which was 
 least fatigued by fighting, was assigned 
 the task of destroying. According to the 
 English narrator, who was also the perpe- 
 trator of these proceedings, it was a 'sub- 
 lime ' scene. The sun set, says this jocund 
 barbarian, before the different regiments 
 were in a condition to move in tlie dark. 
 Before they quitted their ground, the 
 work of destruction had begun in the cit3\ 
 The blazing of houses, ships and stores, 
 the reports of exploding magazines, and 
 the crash of falling roofs, informed them, 
 as they proceeded, of what was going for- 
 ward. Nothing (saj'S a British writer) 
 can be conceived finer than the sight 
 which met them as they drew near the 
 town : The sky was brilliantly illuminated 
 by the different conflagrations ; and a 
 dark, red light was thrown upon the road, 
 sufficient to permit each man to view dis- 
 tinctly his comrade's face. The scene was 
 striking and sublime, as the burning of 
 St. Sebastian's. The first and second 
 brigades advanced into the plain, halted, 
 and in close column bivouacked for the 
 night. Towards morning, a violent storm 
 
 CAPTUKE AND BlIBMNG OF WASHINGTON BY THE BRITISH, IN 1814. 
 
248 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 of rain, accompanied with thunder and 
 lightning, came on, — whose flashes seemed 
 to vie in brilliancy with the flames which 
 burst from tlie roofs of lurning houses, 
 while the thunder drowned the noise of 
 crumbling walls, and was only interrupted 
 b}' the occasional roar of cannon, and of 
 large depots of gun-powder, as they ex- 
 ploded one by one. 
 
 The description thus coldly penned by 
 one of the actors in this barbarous drama, 
 onl}' falls short of the terrible truth. In 
 the American metropolis, then in the fif- 
 teenth year, only, of its existence, the 
 British found about nine hundred houses, 
 scattered in groups over a surface of three 
 miles; and two splendid buildings, namely, 
 the capitol, as yet unfinished, and the 
 president's house, these being among the 
 finest specimens of architecture in the 
 new world. But, heautiful though they 
 tvere, the torch of the incendiary soon laid 
 them in ruins. The great bridge across 
 the Potomac was also wantonly burnt. 
 The blaze produced by these wholesale 
 acts of destruction was seen even in Balti- 
 more, forty miles distant. All that was 
 combustible about the capitol and the pres- 
 idential mansion, including therein all the 
 furniture and articles of taste or value, and 
 the valuable libraries of the senate and 
 liouse of representatives, was reduced to 
 ashes ; and the Avails of these stately 
 buildings, blackened with smoke and in 
 melancholy demolition, remained, for a 
 time, the monuments of British barbarity. 
 Gales and Seaton's valuable printing 
 establishment was also destroyed. All 
 the public buildings, with the exception of 
 the patent-office, shared the same fate at 
 the hands of the enemy, who also took 
 particular pains to mutilate the beautiful 
 monument erected in honor of the naval 
 heroes who fell at Tripoli. 
 
 It is related, that when the detachment 
 sent out to destroy the president's house 
 entered his dining-parlor, they found a 
 dinner-table spread, and covers laid for 
 forty guests. Several kinds of wine, in 
 liandsome cut-glass decanters, were cooling 
 on the side-board; dishes and plates, 
 
 knives, forks, and spoons, were arranged 
 for immediate use. In short, everything 
 was ready for the entertainment of a cere- 
 monious party. Such were the arrange- 
 ments in the dining room, while in the 
 kitchen were others answerable to them in 
 every respect. Spits, loaded with savory 
 joints, turned before the fire; pots, sauce- 
 pans, and other culinary utensils, stood 
 nearby; and all the other requisites for 
 an elegant and substantial repast were 
 exactly in a state which indicated that 
 they had lately and precipitatelj' been 
 abandoned. These preparations were be- 
 held b}' apax-ty of hungry British soldiers, 
 with no indifferent eye. An elegant din- 
 ner, even though considerabl v over-dressed, 
 was a luxury to which few of them, at least 
 for some time back, had been accustomed, 
 and which, after the dangers and fatigues 
 of the day, appeared peculiarly inviting. 
 They sat down to it, therefore, not indeed 
 in the most orderly manner, but with 
 countenances which would scarcely have 
 belied a party of aldermen at a civic feast ; 
 and, having satisfied their appetites with 
 fewer complaints than would have jiroba- 
 bly escaped their rival gourmands afore- 
 said, and partaken pretty freely of the 
 presidential wines, the}' finished with the 
 incendiary's torch, and with such a carni- 
 val of violence and plunder as would dis- 
 grace even the Thugs of India. 
 
 Mrs. Madison states that General Ross 
 sent a message, offering her an escort to 
 whatever place of safet}' she might choose. 
 " I make no war," Ross pretentiously' 
 remarked, " on letters or ladies, and I have 
 heard so much in jjraise of Mrs. Madison, 
 that I would rather protect than burn a 
 house which sheltered so excellent a lady." 
 She, however, had seasonably absented 
 herself, taking with her such valuables, in 
 the shape of plate, portraits, and ward- 
 robe, as she could hastily collect and have 
 placed in a wagon. One of the articles 
 which Mrs. Madison insisted on saving, 
 before leaving, was a large picture of Gen- 
 eral Washington by Stuart; it was. how- 
 ever, screwed to the wall, and the frame 
 had therefore to be broken and the canvas 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 249 
 
 detaclied therefrom, Mrs. Madison stand- 
 ing near by, witli a carving knife in lier 
 liand, ready with her assistance. Slie 
 succeeded, with the aid of Mr. Jacob 
 Barker, in her pur[)Ose, and escaped to a 
 tavern some sixteen miles from tlie cit}'^, 
 i\Ir. INIadison joining her, secretly, in the 
 evening. Ross remained in his camp 
 during the night. Cockburn, it is said, 
 passed the same time, in beastly degra- 
 dation, at a brothel. 
 
 The British having accomplished the 
 object of their visit, passed through Bla- 
 densburg, on the route to Benedict. They 
 left their dead unburied ; such of their 
 "wounded as could ride, were placed on 
 horseback, others in carts and wagons, 
 and a considerable number were left 
 behind. The wounded British i)risoners 
 were intrusted to the humanity of Com- 
 modore Barney, who provided everything 
 for their comfort; and such as recovered 
 ■were exchanged, and returned to the Brit- 
 ish. The retreat of the invaders, though 
 unmolested, was precipitate, and conducted 
 under evident apprehension of an attack. 
 They took Alexandria on the thirtieth of 
 August. On the twelfth of September 
 they marched upon Baltimore, but Avere 
 repulsed, General Ross losing his life In 
 the jjrelinimari/ engagement. It v/as amid 
 the excitement of this movement on the 
 part of the foe, especially their bombard- 
 ment of Fort McHenry, th.at Francis Key, 
 Avho was on the spot at the time, composed 
 that popular song, "The Star Spangled 
 Banner." 
 
 On account of "Washington being the 
 seat of government of the American repub- 
 lic, its capture occasioned great eclat on 
 the part of the British, and much chagrin 
 and indignation throughout the United 
 States — indeed, the whole civilized world 
 exclaimed against the act, as a violation of 
 the rules of modern warfare. The cajiitals 
 of most of the European kingdoms had 
 lately been in the power of an enemy ; but 
 in no instance had the conqueror been 
 guilty of similar conduct. In this case, 
 too, the outrages were committed while a 
 treat}' of peace was actually pending ! Tiie 
 success of the Americans in the battles of 
 Chippewa and Bridgewater, had, doubtless, 
 greatly exasperated the haughty Britons, 
 and led them to this act. 
 
 So overwhelming Avas the effect upon 
 the i)eople of the United States, of the 
 wanton burning and plunder of their cap- 
 ital, that party spirit instantly vanished, 
 and with it the dissensions which had 
 almost paralyzed the government. A 
 nation of freemen was seen to rise in its 
 strength. Multitudes who had at first 
 opposed the war on the ground of its impol- 
 icy, or who had condemned the invasion of 
 Canada, now viewed Great Britain only as 
 a jiowerful nation, precipitating her armies 
 on the country, with the simple intention 
 of sating her vengeance by desolating its 
 fairest portions. The whole countr}" was in 
 motion ; every town was a camp ; all consid- 
 erations were merged into one, paramount 
 above all others, namely, the defense of 
 the countr}' against a barbarous foe. 
 
XXVI. 
 
 McDONOUGII'S NAVAL VICTORY ON LAKE CHAM- 
 PLAIN.— 1814. 
 
 Tlie Projecteil British Inviision of the Northern States, by Land and Water, Frustrated by an Over- 
 whelming LJhiw on Tlieir Favorite Eienieiit — Most Unexpected and Mortifying Result to the Enemy's 
 I'ride — Not One of the Seventeen British Ensigns Visible Two Hours Alter the Opening of tlie 
 Action by Downie — McDonough's Laconic Message. — Britisli Advance on New Yorlc. — Grand 
 Scheme of Conquest. — Picked Men Employed — Great Land and Naval Force — Their Fleet on Lake 
 Champlain. — Downie, a Brave Officer, Commands. — Flushed Confidence of Victory — Pleasure Par- 
 ties to "See the Fight" — Pluck of Commodore McDonougli — His Prayer on the Eve of Battle — 
 Strange and Beautiful Omen — Its Lispiriting Effect on the Men. — McDonough Sights the First Gun. 
 — The Flagships in Close Gra[)ple. — Tlieir Aspect like a Sheet of Fire. — Tremendous Cannonade — 
 The Two Fleets in Full Action. — Desperate Situation of Both. — McDonough's Extraordinary Besort. 
 — Downie Completely Circumvented. — At the Mercy of the Americans. — No English Flag on the 
 Lakes. 
 
 "The A1mi:;hty has been pleased to grant us a signal victory on Lake Champlain."— Commodoeb McDonouoh to the Skcbetabt 
 OF TUK Navit. 
 
 EEATLY to the joy of the Amer- 
 '? icans, and deeply to tlie chagrin 
 of their boastful enemy, the pro- 
 ^^^B jected invasion of the northern 
 part of the United States?, planned with such 
 apparent sagacity and with the most prodi- 
 gal outlay of resources by the British gov- 
 ernment, for the fall campaign of 1814, met 
 with the most signal defeat. This scheme 
 of conquest, so grandly organized and con- 
 fidentl_y counted upon, covered nothing less 
 than the subjugation of the state of New 
 York and the several states of New 
 England, by a combined movement of the 
 English land and naval forces. The Ameri- 
 cans, confiding in the bravery of those with 
 ~«X \vhom they had intrusted the honor of their 
 flag on the ocean — Stewart, Perry, IVIcDon- 
 ough, Chauncey, Allen, Warrington, Henley, 
 Woolsey, lUakeley, Cassin, and others, — did not shrink from the threatened conflict. 
 The important post of Plattsburg, on Lake Chamidain, being, for the time, in a 
 comparatively defenseless state, the British determined to initiate their movement 
 
 JACK'S OFFERING TO IIIS COUNTRY. 
 
GREAT AND ^lEMUKAULE EVENTS. 
 
 251 
 
 by an attack upon tliat place by land, and, 
 at the same time, to attempt the ch'stnic- 
 tioii of the American (U)tilhi concentrated 
 on tlio hdve. 
 
 Accordinj;ly, on tlio third of September, 
 Sir George I'rev^ost, the governor-general 
 of Canada, at the head of some fourteen 
 thousand men — most of them veterans 
 who liad served under Wellington in Ids 
 recent victorious campaigns against Napo- 
 leon — entered the territories of the United 
 States. On the sixth they arrived at 
 Plattsburg. It is situated near the lake, 
 on the northern bank of the small river 
 Saranac. On their approach, the Ameri- 
 can troops, who were posted on the oppo- 
 site bank, tore up the jdanks of the 
 bridges, with which they formed slight 
 breastworks, and prepared to dispute the 
 passage of the stream. The British 
 employed themselves for several days in 
 erecting batteries, while the American 
 forces were daily augmented by the 
 arrival of volunteers and militia. Early 
 in the morning of the eleventh, the Brit- 
 ish squadron, commanded by Commodore 
 Downie, appeared off the harbor of Platts- 
 burg, where that of the United States, 
 commanded by Commodore -McDonough, 
 lay at anchor prepared for battle. Downie, 
 an officer of high distinction, coveted this 
 combat upon Britain's favorite element, 
 not doubting for a moment that he should 
 cover himself with glor}^, by the speedy 
 capture or annihilation of the Yankee fleet. 
 He little knew the pluck of McDonough, 
 — a striking illustration of whose charac- 
 ter may here be related : 
 
 In 1806, McDonough was lieutenant of 
 a United States vessel, the Siren, then 
 cruising in the Mediterranean, under 
 the command of Captain Smith. Ojie 
 forenoon, during the absence of Cajitain 
 Smith on shore, a merchant brig, under 
 the colors of the United States, came into 
 port, and anchored ahead and close to the 
 Siren. Soon after, a boat was sent from 
 a British frigate then lying in the harbor, 
 and the crew boarded this merchantman. 
 After remaining alongside a little while, 
 the boat returned; ivith one more man than 
 
 she went ivith ! This circumstance 
 attracted the notice of INIcDonough, who 
 sent Lieutenant Page on board the brig, 
 to know the particulars of the affair. Page 
 returned with information that the man 
 had been impressed by the boat that came 
 from the British frigate, although he had 
 a ])rotection as an American citizen. 
 McDonough's blood was up ! In a twiidi- 
 ling, he ordered the Siren's gig to be 
 
 COMMODORE MCDONOUGH. 
 
 manned, and putting himself in her, went 
 in pc.""'iit of the boat, determined to 
 rescue his countryman. He overtook her 
 alongside the British frigate, just as the 
 man at the bow was raising his boat-hook 
 to reach the ship, and took out the Amer- 
 ican by force, — although the British boat 
 had eight oars, and his only four, — and 
 carried him on board the Sii-en. When 
 the report of this affair was borne to the 
 captain of the British frigate, he put off, 
 in a rage, for the Siren, determined to 
 know how McDonough had dared to take 
 a man from one of his majesty's boats. 
 Politely greeting him, McDonough reso- 
 lutely said — 
 
 " The man is an American seaman, and 
 under the protection of the flag of the 
 United States, and it is my duty to protect 
 him." 
 
 " By ! I don't care for your Amer- 
 ican flag ! If you don't give up the man, 
 I'll bring my frigate alongside, and blow 
 you to the devil ! " replied the Britisher. 
 
 " That you may do ; but, as long as my 
 vessel swims, I shall keep the man," 
 calmly responded McDonough. 
 
252 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 " You are a very young man, and will 
 repent of this indiscretion. If I had been 
 in the boat, you would not dared to have 
 taken the man, I'm if you would ! " 
 
 *' / would have taken the man, or lost 
 my life,"" said McDonough. 
 
 "What, sir! would you attempt to stop 
 me, if I were now to undertake to impress 
 men from that brig ? " inquired the Brit- 
 ish captain, scornfully. 
 
 " I would ; and, if you wish to be con- 
 vinced, you have only to make a com- 
 mencement." 
 
 Enraged at this, the Englishman 
 returned to his ship, and shortly after- 
 wards was seen making in the direction of 
 the American merchantman. McDonough 
 thereupon ordered his boat manned and 
 armed, and got in her himself, all in read- 
 iness for pursuit. The Englishman, seeing 
 the turn things were likely to take, and 
 deeming discretion to be the better part of 
 valor, contented himself with taking a cir- 
 cuit round the American brig, and return- 
 ing again to the frigate. Thus the affair 
 ended. 
 
 It was with this cool, intrepid, and res- 
 olute master of himself and of the situa- 
 tion, thatDownie, flushed with expectations 
 of a speedy and easy victory, was soon to 
 deal, and by whom, as the sequel showed, 
 he was doomed to overwhelming defeat, on 
 the waters of that vast lake where his 
 squadron now floated in proud defiance. 
 Indeed, such was the assurance of ability 
 in the mind of Downie, to scatter the 
 Americans to the four winds, that a Brit- 
 ish barge, filled with amateur spectators, 
 accompanied the other A'essels, which 
 misled McDonough to suppose that there 
 were thirteen barges in force, when in 
 reality there %vere but twelve, — the thir- 
 teenth being filled with idlers, who came 
 not to bear the brunt of battle, but to 
 enjoy the excursion, and witness and share 
 the expected victory. 
 
 On Sunday morning, September 11, 
 1814, it being the fifth day of the siege, 
 the motives which induced the British 
 general to delay, hitherto, his final assaidt 
 upon the American works, became appar- ! 
 
 ent. Reljang on his ability to carry them, 
 however they might be strengthened and 
 fortified, he had awaited the arrival of the 
 British fleet, in the belief that, with its 
 co-operation, an easy conquest could be 
 made not only of the American army, but 
 also of the American fleet. On this day, 
 therefore, the British fleet, consisting of 
 the frigate Confiance, carrjnng thirty-nine 
 guns, twenty-seven of which were twenty- 
 four jjounders ; the brig Linnet, of sixteen 
 guns ; the sloops Chub and Finch, each 
 carrying eleven guns ; and a large number 
 of galleys, each carrying one or two guns; 
 was seen coming round Cumberland, where 
 the American fleet lay at anchor. 
 
 The American fleet comj^rised the ship 
 Saratoga, carrying twenty-six guns, eight 
 of which were long twenty-four jDOunders ; 
 the brig Eagle, of twenty guns ; the 
 schooner Ticonderoga, of seventeen guns ; 
 the sloop Preble, seven guns ; and ten 
 galleys, six carrying two guns each, and 
 the remainder one gun ajjiece. 
 
 Besides the advantage which the enemy 
 possessed in being able to choose their 
 position, their force was much superior. 
 The number of guns, all told, in the Brit- 
 ish fleet, amounted to ninetj^-five, and of 
 men, to upwards of a thousand ; while the 
 Americans had only eighty-six guns, and 
 eight hundred and twenty men. One of 
 the American vessels had been built with 
 almost incredible dispatch ; eighteen days 
 before, the trees of which it was con- 
 structed were actually growing on the 
 shores of the lake. 
 
 The American vessels were moored in 
 line, with five gun-boats or galleys on each 
 flank. At eight o'clock, the look-out boat 
 announced the approach of the British, 
 and at nine, immediately' on getting round 
 Cumberland Head, Downie anchored in 
 line abreast of the American force, at 
 about three hundred yards distance, and 
 gave tokens of battle. The youthful 
 McDonough awaited all these movements 
 with perfect calmness and order. Indeed, 
 true to his manly character and to his 
 trained habits of observing the Sabbath 
 and trusting to divine help in human 
 
GREAT AND MEMORAl'.LE EVENTS. 
 
 253 
 
 affairs, lie knelt down in the presence of 
 his men, and solemnly offered up the fol- 
 lowing prayer of the Episcoi)al servii e 
 appointed to be read before a fight at sea 
 against an eneniv: ' most powerful and 
 glorious Lord God, the Lord of hosts, that 
 rulest and comniandest all things; Thou 
 sittest in the throne judging right, and 
 therefore we make our address to thy 
 Divine Majesty in this our necessity, that 
 thou wouldest take the cause into thine 
 own hand, and judge between us and our 
 enemies. Stir up thy strength, Lord, 
 and come and help us; for thou givest not 
 alway the battle to the strong, but canst 
 save by many or by few. let not our 
 sins now cry against us for vengeance; 
 but hear us thy poor servants begging 
 mercy and imploring help, and that thou 
 wouldest be a defense unto us against the 
 face of the enemy. ]\Like it appear that 
 thou art our Saviour and mighty Deliv- 
 erer, through Jesus Christ our Lord. 
 Amen.' The offering up of this invocation 
 to the God of battles, on the eve of that 
 terrible conflict, was a most unusual occur- 
 rence, eminently worthy the just cause in 
 Avhose behalf McDonough was about to 
 strike so decisive a blow. It is also related 
 that, at the very moment of McDonough's 
 ordering his vessels cleared and prepared 
 for action — a moment when modern seamen, 
 like old Romans, are extremely alive to 
 signs, which the superstition natural to 
 sensitive and imaginative persons converts 
 into auspicious or ill-boding occurrences, 
 — a cheerful indication animated the Sara- 
 toga, such as Caesar or Napoleon would 
 have proclaimed to his soldiers with 
 delight, and they would have hailed with 
 enthusiasm. A cock fleio upon a gun- 
 slide, clapped his wings, and crowed, — a 
 signal of defiance and victory which broke 
 the silence of anxious expectation preced- 
 ing the battle, being received with exult- 
 ant cheers by the seamen. 
 
 In the line of battle, the Confiance, 
 Downie's own vessel, was opposed to the 
 Saratoga, commanded by McDonough ; 
 the Linnet to the Eagle ; the British 
 galleys and one of their sloops to the 
 
 Ticonderoga, the Preble, and the left divi- 
 sion of the American galleys ; their other 
 sloop was op[)Osed to the galleys on the 
 right. To complete his arrangements for 
 the action, ^McDonough directed two of 
 his galleys to keep in shore of the Eagle, 
 and a little to windward of her, to sustain 
 the head of the line; one or two more to 
 lie opposite to the interval between the 
 Eagle and the Saratoga; a few ojiposite 
 to the interval between the Saratoga and 
 Ticonderoga; and two or three opposite 
 the interval between the Ticonderoga 
 and the Preble. The x-ear of the line 
 aj)pears not to have been covered according 
 to this plan. 
 
 In this position, the weather being per* 
 fectly clear and calm, and the bay smooth, 
 the whole force on \)oth sides became 
 engaged in the work of blood; and at the 
 same moment, as if the firing from the 
 first gun from the Confiance had been the 
 sifinal, the land conflict commenced 
 between the Americans, under General 
 Macomb, and the British, under Sir George 
 Prevost. The latter opened a heavy fir? 
 of shot, shells, and rockets, upon the Amer' 
 ican lines, and this was continued with 
 little interruption until sunset, and 
 returned with spirit and effect. At six 
 o'clock, the firing on the part of the Brit- 
 ish ceased, every battery having been 
 silenced by the American artillery. At 
 the commencement of the bombarding, 
 and while the ships were engaged, three 
 desperate efforts were made by the British 
 to pass the Saranac, for the purpose of 
 carrying the American works by storm, or 
 assault. With this view, scaling ladders, 
 fascines, and every implement necessary 
 for the purpose, were prepared. One 
 attempt was made to cross at the village 
 bridge, one at the upper bridge, and one 
 at the ford waj', three miles above the 
 works. At each point, they were met at 
 the bank by the American troops and 
 repulsed. 
 
 But the fate of the day's conflict, in 
 which the two great competitors for mili- 
 tary superiority were now so earnestly 
 engaged on the land and on the sea, 
 
254 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 MCDONOUGH'S VICTORY ON LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 
 
 depended chiefly on the result of the naval 
 encounter, and this latter mainly on the 
 result of the sanguinary battle between 
 the two largest ships — the Confiance and 
 the Saratoga, under the direction, respec- 
 tively, of Downie and McDonough, the 
 commanders of the fleets. 
 
 As the British came nearer, the brig 
 Eagle, at the head of tlie American line, 
 opened fire suddenly with a broadside from 
 her four long-guns, but with little effect, 
 on account of the distance. McDonough, 
 however, — according to Cooper's narrative, 
 — did not give the order to commence, 
 although the enemy's galleys now opened, 
 for it was apparent that the Eagle's fire 
 was useless. As soon, however, as it was 
 seen that her shot told, McDonough him- 
 self, sighted a long twenty-four, and the 
 gun was fired. This shot is said to have 
 struck the Confiance near the outer hawse- 
 hole, and to have passed the length of her 
 deck, killing and wounding several men, 
 and carrying away the wheel. It was a 
 signal for all the American long-guns to 
 open, and it was soon seen that the Amer- 
 
 ican commanding ship was causing her 
 special antagonist, the Confiance, to suffer 
 heavily. Still the enemy advanced stead- 
 ily, and in the most gallant manner, con- 
 fident if he could get the desired position 
 with his vessels, that the great weight of 
 the Confiance would at once decide the 
 fortunes of the day. But he had miscal- 
 culated his own powers of endurance, and 
 not improbably those of annoyance pos- 
 sessed by the enemy on the other side, 
 under the gallant McDonough. Tiie 
 anchors of the Confiance were hanging by 
 the stoppers, in readiness to let go, and 
 the larboard bower was soon cut away, as 
 well as a sjiare anchor in tlie larboard 
 forechains. In short, after bearing the 
 fire of the American vessels as long as 
 possible, and the wind beginning to bafile, 
 Downie found himself reduced to tlie 
 necessity of anchoring while still at the 
 distance of about a quarter of a mile from 
 the American line. The helm was put 
 a-port, the ship shot into the wind, and a 
 kedge was let go, while the vessel took a 
 sheer, and brought up with her starboard 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 255 
 
 bower. In doing the latter, however, the 
 kedge was fouletl and became <jf no use. 
 In coming to, ht'r luilyards were let run, 
 and she haulud up lier courses. At this 
 time, the Linnet and Chubb were still 
 standing in, farther to windward, and the 
 former, as her guns bore, iii'ed a broadside 
 at the Saratoga. The Linnet soon after 
 anchored, somewhat nearer the Confiance, 
 getting a very favorable position forward 
 of the Eagle's beam. The Chubb kept 
 under way, intending, if possible, to rake 
 the American line. The Finch got 
 abreast of the Ticonderoga, under her 
 sweeps, supported by the gun-boats. All 
 the English vessels came to in very hand- 
 some style, nor did the Confiance fire a 
 single gun until secured. As soon as 
 Downie had performed this duty, in a 
 seaman-like manner, his ship appeared a 
 sheet of fire, discharging all her guns at 
 nearly the same instant, pointed j^rinci- 
 pally at the Saratoga. The effect of this 
 broadside thrown from sixteen long 
 twenty-fours, double-shotted, in perfectly 
 smooth water, with guns leveled to 
 point-blank range, and coolly sighted, 
 was terrible upon the ship that received 
 it, killing or wounding one-fifth of 
 her men, including her only lieutenant, 
 Gamble. 
 
 But, notwithstanding the greater weight 
 of the enemy's battery seemed to be inclin- 
 ing the scale of victory in his favor, he 
 suffered prodigiously. The chances, too, 
 against the Saratoga, w'ere accidentally 
 increased by the commander of the Eagle, 
 who, being unable to bring his guns to 
 bear as he wished, cut his cable, and, 
 anchoring between the Saratoga and 
 Ticonderoga, exposed the former vessel to 
 a galling fire from the British brig Linnet. 
 The cannonade from all the vessels was 
 now incessant and destructive, dismount- 
 ing guns, disabling crews and masts, and 
 on both sides extremely devastating; every 
 gun on the side of the Saratoga facing the 
 enemy, was rendered useless, nor was the 
 situation of the English such as to inspire 
 them with any flattering prospect of escap- 
 ing annihilation. 
 
 Things had so culminated that, in respect 
 to each of the combatants, the fortunes of 
 the contest now depended upon the execu- 
 tion of one of the most diflicult naval ma- 
 neuvers, that of winding the vessel round, 
 and bringing a new broadside to bear! 
 
 This feat the Confiance essayed in vain. 
 The invincible commander and crew of the 
 Saratoga saw, at once, that the only 
 chance now left was a resort to some 
 extraordinary expedient to meet the immi- 
 nent emergency. Three times IMcDonough 
 had been prostrated, by falling sjiars, 
 senseless on the deck of his ship — fought 
 almost to the water's edge, and incapable 
 of further effort. It was at this critical 
 moment, that an old seaman, named Brum, 
 suggested the contrivance, b^- means of an 
 anchor, — a stern anchor being put on, and 
 the bower cable cut, — to turn the ship 
 round, so as to bring into action the side 
 remaining uninjured. Under this arrange- 
 ment, the gallant ship rounded to, and 
 presented a fresh broadside to the enemy. 
 This was attended with such destructive 
 effect, that the Confiance was obliged to 
 surrender in a few minutes. 
 
 No sooner had the Confiance surrendered, 
 than the whole broadside of the Saratoga 
 was brought to bear upon the Linnet, 
 which struck its flag fifteen minutes after- 
 wards. The sloop which was opposed to 
 the Eagle, had struck some time before, and 
 drifted down the line. The sloop that was 
 with their galleys had also struck. Three 
 of their galle^ys were also sunk, and the 
 others pulled off. McDonough's galleys 
 were about obeying with alacrity the signal 
 to pursue them, when report was made of 
 all of them being in a sinking state; it 
 consequently became necessary to annul 
 the signal to the galleys, and order their 
 men to the pumps. McDonough states 
 that he could only look at the enemy's 
 vessels going off in a shattered condition, 
 for there was not a mast in either squadron 
 that could stand to make sail on, for any 
 purpose whatsoever. The lower rigging, 
 being nearly shot away, was hanging down 
 as loosely and uselessly as though it had 
 just been jjlaced over the mast-heads. 
 
256 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 The Saratoga received fifty-five round 
 shot in her hull, and the Confiance one 
 hundred and five. The action lasted with- 
 out any cessa<"ion, on a smooth sea, at 
 close quarters, two hours and twenty min- 
 utes. In the American squadron, fifty-two 
 were killed, and fifty-eight wounded. In 
 the British, eighty-four were killed, and 
 one hundred and ten wounded. Among 
 the slain was Downie, the British com- 
 mandant. This engagement was in full 
 view of both armies, and of throngs of 
 spectators collected on the heights, border- 
 ing on the bay, to witness the momentous 
 scene. It was viewed by the inhabitants 
 with trembling anxiety, as success on the 
 part of the British would have opened to 
 
 them an easy passage into the heart of the 
 ccv.ntry. When, therefore, the flag of the 
 Confiance was struck, the shores resounded 
 with the deafening acclamations of the 
 troops and citizens. The British, when 
 they saw their fleet succumbing, were 
 terror-stricken. Not one of the numerous 
 British ensigns so gaily streaming at eight 
 o'clock was visible soon after ten. British 
 offensive operations in that vast region 
 were now stopped. McDonough received 
 the grateful applause of his countrj'men ; 
 congress conferred its highest commemor- 
 ative honors ; and the legislature of Ver- 
 mont presented him with a magnificent 
 estate on Cumberland Head, overlooking 
 the very scene of his splendid victory. 
 
XXYII. 
 
 GENERAL JACKSON'S TERRIBLE ROUT AND SLAUGHTER 
 OF THE BRITISH ARMY AT NEW ORLEANS.— 1815. 
 
 His Consummate Generalship in tlie 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 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 Tliem. — 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 Plotilla. — Arrival of Veterans from 
 England. — 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." — Tiie Result at Home and 
 Abroad — Startling and Impressive Effect. 
 
 •' The redoonts will find nut whom they have to deal with. I will smash them, ao help me GodI"— Gekeral Jackson, ox assdminq 
 
 THE DEFKNSE UK NkW OliLKANS. 
 
 AMERICAN DEFENSES 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 
 weeks previous to the sanguinary conflict, namely, on the 24th 
 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 joj^ous event to all, but the 
 tidings of which did not, unfortunatel_y, 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 can any estimate be made of the 
 
258 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 immense consequences of that victory to 
 General Jackson and his country. Mr. 
 Bancroft, the historian, sa3's that the 
 heroes of antiquit}^ wouhl 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 delay, conveyed 
 intelligence of their designs to the gov- 
 ernor of New Orleans, and frankly offered 
 their services to defend the country. Dis- 
 appointed in securing their aid, the expe- 
 dition proceeded to the attack of Fort 
 Bowyer, on Mobile point, 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 fii-ed 
 upon ; the British soldiers being also in 
 the forts, Avhere their flag liad been 
 hoisted, in conjunction with tlie Spanish, 
 the day before tlie American forces 
 appeared. Preparations were immediately 
 
 made to carrj^ the place ; one battery 
 having been taken by storm, vfiih. slight 
 loss on either side, the governor surren- 
 dered, 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 put 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 accordingly hastened to New Orleans, 
 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 Avho 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 fully confirmed, 
 Jackson, on consultation with the gover- 
 nor, in conjunction with Judge Hall, and 
 many 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 
 adojited 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 259 
 
 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 ritjht rested on the 
 river, and the left was flanked by an 
 impenetrable cypress swam[), 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 
 British. Each flank was secured by an 
 advance bastion, and the latter protected 
 by batteries in the rear. These works 
 were well mounted with artillery. Oppo- 
 site this position, on the w'est 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 cit}^, without 
 any previous knowledge of their approach. 
 
 The morning of New Year's day, 1815, 
 was very dark and 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- 
 jiroached 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 Januar}^ 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, w^ere 
 provided at Pittsburg, but did not leave 
 that place until the twenty-fifth of Decem- 
 ber, and arrived at New Orleans not until 
 several days 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 pi;rpose the British had been labori- 
 ously employed 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 gi-eat dela}'- ; at length, 
 however, they succeeded in hauling through 
 a sufficient number to transport five hun^ 
 dred troops to the right bank. 
 
260 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 comjjany under 
 Lieutenant Ross. The regular troops 
 occupied that j^art 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 jjost, 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 daj's did the 
 two armies remain 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^^^^^--c:^^o£.->t^ C^^JLu^^y^^^,^Si.^C^.^y 
 
 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 hardshi])s 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 January^ 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. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 261 
 
 The British batteries, whicli luul liocn 
 demolished on the first of the month, luul 
 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 vvas lighted with their congreve rock- 
 ets. The two divisions, commanded by 
 Sir Edward Pakenham 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 
 vfSiS lighted with the blaze of their fire. 
 A burst of artillery and small-arms, 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 Avere 
 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, 
 however, 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 vards 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 rear, with the 
 reserve, and met the columns precipitately 
 retreating, broken and confused. His 
 efforts to stop them were unavailing, — 
 onward they continued in their headlong 
 retreat, until they reached a ditch, at the 
 distance of four hundred yards, 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 deploy, and 
 were endeavoring to do so ; but the same 
 constant and unremitted resistance that 
 caiised their first retreat, continued yet 
 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,— 
 the 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, 
 they had been unable to obtain the 
 slightest advantage; all these circum- 
 
262 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 stances were well calculated to make even 
 the most submissive soldier oppose the 
 
 autliority that would have controlled him. 
 The decided advantage of the Americans 
 
 gave to the conduct of the enemy more of 
 the 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 
 fruitless to the last degree. 
 On the ninth. General Lam- 
 " bert determined to relinquish 
 g altogether so desperate and 
 g hojieless an enterprise, and 
 § immediately commenced the 
 g necessary preparations, though 
 < with the utmost secrecy. It 
 * was not until the night of the 
 & eighteenth, however, that the 
 § British camp was entirely 
 to evacuated. 
 
 The loss of the British in 
 S 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- 
 w ering the length of time and 
 the numbers engaged, has sel- 
 w 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 
 disparity in the slain, between 
 the victors and vanquished. 
 The 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. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 263 
 
 Pakenliam, the clistinguislietl leador of 
 the British forces, was a brotlier-iii-law of 
 the great Duke of Wellington, liad 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 unfrequentl}^ 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 ' Booty 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 whom they have to deal 
 with. 1 will smash them, so help me 
 God ! " And the spirit with which he led 
 
 his men forward may be easily judged of 
 from his emphatic exclamation — •■ Jieniem- 
 ber, our watchword is ' Victory or iJcath. ! ' 
 We will enjoy our liberty, or perish in the 
 last ditch ! " Never before did a general 
 bring ui»oii his troops such a spell of 
 enthusiastic devotion to himself, and to 
 the demands of the hour. So, too, in the 
 flush of triumph, he did not forget mercy 
 and magnanimit3\ " 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 
 spare, and weighing about one hundred 
 and forty-five pounds. His jjliysique 
 appeared to disqualify him for hardshiji ; 
 3'^et, accustomed to it from early life, few 
 were capable of enduring fatigue to the 
 same extent, or with less injury. His 
 dark blue eyes, with brows arched and 
 slightly projecting, possessed a marked 
 expression ; but when from any cause 
 excited, they sparkled with peculiar luster 
 and penetration. In his manners he Avas 
 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." 
 
XXVIII. 
 THE EYER-MEMORABLE SEPTEMBER GALE.— 1815. 
 
 Its Violence and Destructiveness Without a Parallel Since the Settlement of the Country. — Terror 
 Excited by Its Sudden and 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 Changes of Wind. — Its Rapidity and Force Indescribable. — 
 Demolition of Hundreds of Buildings. — Orchards 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. — Fligiit 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 — SufiFocating 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 Gales. 
 
 — " Ftill overhead 
 The minslini tempest we-irs its gloom, and still 
 The deluue deepens; till tiie fields around 
 Lie sunk and ftatted in the sordid wave. 
 
 All that the winds had spared, 
 In one wild moment ruined." 
 
 lUDGING from jvll 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 C^ ^ 
 England, on the 23d of September, 1815, was^/yT^ 
 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 
 lias ever since been called the Great Se^^tem- 
 her 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 w%as 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 
 
 l)i;.STKl'CTi()N liV Tin; (iltlOAT (iALh; AM> ILOOlJ. 
 
GREAT AND IMEMORAULE EVENTS. 
 
 265 
 
 to change toward the soutli and to increase 
 in violence wliile tlie rain abated. Be- 
 tween nine and ten o'cK)ck in the fore- 
 noon, it began to excite ahirni. Cliinineys 
 and trees were blown o\er botli to tlie 
 Avest 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 si: y was visible in viaii// 
 places durinr/ the utmost violence of the 
 temitest, and clouds were seen fl.ying 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 
 w^ere 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 
 3'ards ; 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 watei*. But the direction 
 of the wind at tliis 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 ; manj'^ 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 wliicli 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 ha[)pened 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 sepai'ated at a considerable 
 distance from each other, were overturned 
 in great numbers ; no less than five thou- 
 sand loere 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. 
 
 Rhode 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 directly 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 actually driven over the 
 wJiarves 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 
 wliarves ; vessels, broken from their moor- 
 ings in the stream, and their fastenings at 
 the wharves, were seen driving with dread- 
 ful iuipetuosity towards the bridge, which 
 
266 
 
 OUR riPvST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 they swept away, without a moment's 
 check to their progress, and passed on to 
 the head of the basin, where the}^ drove 
 high up the bank. Every exertion to 
 protect 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 appear in the streets. All considera- 
 tion of property, however, was soon for- 
 gotten in the more important one of self- 
 preservation. The 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 of 
 every description, were driven along with 
 resistless force. It was cui awful and tei"- 
 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 
 swejDt from their fovmdations — so that all 
 the space, where, an hour or two before, 
 were so many valuable wharves and stores 
 crowded with shipping and merchandise, 
 was now one wide waste of tumultuous 
 
 THE EVKR-MEMOBABLE GALE, SEPTEMBER 23, 1815. 
 
 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 ch lldren were 
 saved in boats from chamber-windows. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 267 
 
 One distressing and peculiar scene, 
 •whicli took place among the sliipping, will 
 serve as a description of a thousand other 
 cases which occurred during the storm. A 
 brig, loaded and ready 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 
 upset, 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, they 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, they at 
 last reached the rear of the houses, where 
 some Avere taken into the second story, 
 and others, unable to be reached, succeeded 
 in braving the waves until they swam to a 
 place of safet3^ 
 
 But it would be absolutely impossible to 
 giv>^ an extended detail of the disastrous 
 scenes pertaining to each sejjarate 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, 
 sixtij chimneys prostrated, forty barns 
 demolislied, and more than five thousand 
 trees destroyed. The tiianber of buildings, 
 large and small, destroyed in Providence, 
 was estimated at five hundred, and about 
 fifty vessels ivrecked. 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 pear tree, 
 imported and transplanted 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 twent}- miles from 
 Boston, the damage amounted to forty 
 thousand dollars. At Stonington, Conn., 
 t]ie tide rose seventeen feet higher than 
 usual, all the vessels going ashore or sink- 
 ing, and all the wharves and many luiild- 
 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, melanchol}' 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 man}' instances, almost irrepai'able, in 
 kind and extent. Innumerable churches 
 were wholly or i^artially ruined, and the 
 number of cattle killed Avas very great. 
 The gale was also severely felt by 
 vessels off Cape Hatteras, in the gulf 
 stream, off the cajies of Delaware, at Sandj' 
 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, tliere 
 was, during most of the night of the 
 twenty-second, a gale from the north-east, 
 with heavy rain. Earl}' the next day, the 
 wind veered to the north-west, the gale 
 continuing, with torrents of rain, for sev- 
 eral hours. 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 jiart 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 
 
268 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the twentj'-first ; about two o'clock, the 
 wind suddenly shifted to the north and 
 north-west, blowing with increased vio- 
 lence. On the twenty-second, there was a 
 gale all da}", 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 twenty-third, the wind became 
 very violent, and soon after almost a hur- 
 ricane. The tide, which commenced flood 
 about six o'clock, had, by ten, risen three 
 or four feet higher than was ever known 
 befoi'e. 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 elapsed 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 
 awful 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 fury. 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 cohunn or area of sixty miles in 
 n)idth. 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 approached, 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, having 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 Avinter 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 short time. Most of 
 the shrubs and bushes, over which the tide 
 passed, perished similarly. It was 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, generall}', on such high 
 ground, that the tide did not reach them ; 
 onl}'^ a few were surrounded by the water, 
 and none of them were so situated that the 
 water could remain about them for any 
 length of time. They were, nevertheless, 
 as much exposed as many of the cedars 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 269 
 
 wliioli died; but the apple trees continued 
 to live, though considerably stinted in 
 their growth. With these ex(;eptions, the 
 destruction of vegetable life in localities of 
 this exposure, ^vas 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 spihes 
 broken off. The corn, where it had pre- 
 viously grown hard or ripe, Avas 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 da^'s 
 after the flood, and well dried, they Avere 
 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 necessary 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 i)eculiar disci})line of this flood so 
 changed their habit, that the water in 
 them became of a fixed height, and saltish. 
 When 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 
 snoiv-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 ui)on the 
 leaves of the trees by the sjDray ; their 
 vitality was destroyed, and ih^j exhibited 
 an appearance similar to that which 
 
 
 HORRORS OF THE WHIRLWIND THROUGHOUT NEW ENGLAND. 
 
 Fresh water, along the seaboard, was, 
 for along 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 did not exhibit this peculiar dis- 
 coloration J those which were destroyed by 
 
270 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the flood, bore every mark of death, but 
 not of having been burnt, — neither was 
 there any thin coating of salt on the win- 
 dows in these regions, as on those in the 
 neigliborhood of Boston and elsewhere. 
 
 In multitudes of instances, the saltness 
 of the wells and watering-places continued 
 unabated for six months, or until the first 
 week of the following March. The winter 
 had been severe, and the ground frozen 
 very deep until the middle of February, 
 when there were several weeks of moderate 
 weather, with soft rains, which dissolved 
 the snows and ojoened the ground ; shortly 
 after which, it was discovered that several 
 of the wells and ponds were fr^sh. As 
 the water in these had been tasted but a 
 few days previously and was found still to 
 retain its disagreeableness, the freshness 
 must have taken place suddenly. After 
 successive spells of dry weather, these 
 wells grew salt again, but not to the same 
 degree as before ; and, on the other hand, 
 they would be fresh, after heavy rains, and 
 then become salt again after dry weather, 
 the degree of saltness diminishing from 
 time to time. This peculiarity continued 
 for several years, in some localities, being, 
 of course, a great inconvenience to man 
 and beast. 
 
 The center or the limits of this great 
 and memorable tempest, scientific investi- 
 gators were unable to determine. It was 
 very violent at places separated by a con- 
 siderable interval from each other; while 
 the intermediate region suffered much less. 
 Its course through forests was, in some 
 instances, marked almost as definitely, as 
 where the trees have been newly cut down 
 for a road. In these cases, it appears to 
 have been a moving vortex, and not the 
 rushing forward of the great body of the 
 atmosphere. Tliere seems to have been 
 no part of the coast of New England which 
 escaped its fur}^ though in Vermont and 
 the western parts of New Hampshire its 
 severity was much less; yet still further 
 west, on the St. Lawrence, the gale was so 
 great as to render it extremely dangerous 
 to be upon the river. And what is still 
 more remarkable, the storm began to grow 
 
 violent at this place about the same time 
 that it commenced near the Atlantic, and 
 subsided about the same time. 
 
 As to the dij-ection of the wind, at the 
 several places where the storm prevailed, 
 Professor Farrar's account states, that, on 
 the twenty-second, the wind was pretty 
 generally from the north-east. The storm 
 commenced to the leeward ; but when the 
 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 by 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, 
 pi'oducing 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 271 
 
 the north-east storm, at its soutliern ter- 
 mination. As the south-east wintl ap- 
 proached tlie line of tlie nortli-east storm, 
 it was deflected into an east wind. Tlie 
 general form of the hurricane, in and about 
 New 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 east 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 
 no 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, 
 but they have been comparatively limited 
 in their extent and destructiveness. 
 Morton, in his New 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 
 np and down, and made many Indians to 
 climb into trees for their safety ; blew 
 down many huntlred thousands of trees," 
 etc. The tremendous gales of 1723, 1804, 
 1818, 1821, 1836, 1841, 1851, 1859, 
 1860, 1860, and some others, will long 
 
 be remembered in certain localities, for 
 tlicii- severity and tlic loss of life 
 and property, on land and sea, which 
 attended them ; but neither the memory 
 of man, nor the annals of tlie country, 
 from its first settlement doiv?i to the 
 present time, furnish any parallel to 
 the pjeculiar character of the yreat gale 
 of September, 1815. <r\ I T J ^ 
 
 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 
 country 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 Avind 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 inche?. 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 country ; and such 
 an embargo on travel was never known 
 before. The pecuniary losses reached 
 millions of dollars, and many lives were 
 lost. 
 
XXIX. 
 
 VISIT OF LAFAYETTE TO AMERICA, AS THE GUEST 
 
 OF THE REPUBLIC— 1824. 
 
 His Tour of Five 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. 
 — riie "Venerable Patriot Enters the Tomb and Stands Beside the Remains of His Great Departed 
 Friend, Washington. — Noble Qualities of the Marquis. — A Favorite of Louis XVL — 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 — Admiration of Him by the Chieftain. — One of Washington's Military 
 Family. — A Major-General 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. 
 
 THE LANDING OF LAF.WETTE AT NEW YORK. 
 
 "Fortunate, fortunate m«n 1 
 Hf aven saw tit to urdtiin that 
 the electric spark of liberty 
 phould he conducted. through 
 l.iifayette, tioin the New 
 World to the Old."— Ua.mll 
 WjiBSIEB. 
 
 "NVO names are most intimately and indissoUtbl}' associated with 
 tlie dramatic train of military events which led to the establish- 
 vv ■ --/<^_j- - '"^^^* <^^ ^^^^ United States as a nation and government, namely, 
 ^^$A-f' (^ ' ^]^Qgg Qf Washington and Lafayette. No two names are, 
 
 down to tliu present day, more fresh in the love and gratitude of the American people, 
 and, until time shall he 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 outburst of popular enthusiasm wdiich greeted 
 Lafayette on his visit to America in 1824, and which made that year one of the most 
 
GllEAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 
 
 273 
 
 memorable in the nation's histor}', it will 
 only be necessary to glance at the services, 
 military and civil, rendered ns by this 
 large-liearted patriot, during the opening 
 years of our national existence. Those 
 services and that reception form, indeed, a 
 national romance. 
 
 When only thirteen years of age, Lafay- 
 ette w^as left an orphan, and in full posses- 
 sion of valuable estates, and master of his 
 own affairs. 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 
 18 
 
 they should join him. They entered with 
 enthusiasm into his views, but, owing to 
 obstat;K's i)ut in their way through famil}' 
 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 
 iu the highest degree chimerical and haz- 
 ardous. The count assured him that his 
 confidence was not misplaced; but, said 
 he— 
 
 "1 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 
 
274 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 reception was 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 Lafaj^ette had not yet 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 put his letters into the 
 hands of Mr. Lovell, chairman of tlie 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 him there was very little 
 hope of his success. Lafayette suspected 
 that his papers had 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 tlie 
 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 ranlc, 
 
 zeal, perseverance, and disinterestedness, 
 overcame every objection, and he w'as 
 appointed a major-general in the American 
 army before he had reached the age of 
 twenty. 
 
 But he was yet to stand before the face 
 of the great American chieftain. Wash- 
 ington was at head-quarters when Lafay- 
 ette reached Philadelj)hia, 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 place in a manner peculiarly marked 
 with the circumspection of Washington, 
 at a dinner-part}', where Lafaj^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 spirit 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 family, — adding, in a tone of pleas- 
 antry, that he could not promise 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 
 lie would doubtless contrive to accommo- 
 date liimself to the customs, manners and 
 privations of a republican arm3\ Such 
 was the reception given to Lafa3'ette, by 
 the most sagacious and observant of me;n ; 
 and the personal acquaintance, tlius com- 
 menced, ripened into an intimacy, a con- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 275 
 
 fideuce, 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 Jerse}'^, before he 
 had recovered from his wounds, in a battle 
 where he commanded militia against Brit- 
 ish grenadiers; in the In-illiant 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 Rights, wliich 
 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 Jul};- 22, and it 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 royal 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 Imst of Washington, and 
 a sword forged from the bolts of the Bas- 
 tile. Subsequently, having denounced the 
 
 bloodthirsty Jacobins, he was burned 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 peremi)tori]y demanded 
 by Napoleon, and obtained, in September, 
 1797. In the year 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, Lafayette had grown old 
 in the services he had rendered to America 
 and France. Though his years were now 
 nearly three score and ten, he could not 
 think of meeting death until he had once 
 more seen that land of liberty across the 
 wide Atlantic, which was as dear to him as 
 his native country. In its infanc}', and 
 for its freedom, he had, fifty j-ears 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 numbei-, and vast 
 as the empires of antiquity in territory. 
 Remembering his magnificent services, in 
 1824 the congress of the United States 
 voted unanimously a resolution requesting 
 President Monroe to invite Lafaj-ette 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 conversance. This invi- 
 tation was extended to the great French 
 patriot in President Monroe's most happy 
 manner, and was duly accepted, though 
 the offer of a war-ship was declined. 
 
 On the twelfth of July, 1824, Lafayette, 
 accompanied by his son, George AVashing- 
 ton Lafayette, and his secretary, M. Levas- 
 seur, sailed from Havre for America. He 
 arrived in New York, August fifteenth, 
 and landed on Staten Island. One of the 
 
276 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 first to greet him was Joseph Bonaparte, 
 hrother of the great Napoleon. Joseph 
 then resided at Bordentown, New Jersey ; 
 
 SWORD OF HONOR PRESENTED TO LAFAYETTE. 
 
 he had alwaj'S cherished a high regard for 
 the Marquis, and greatly valued liis 
 friendship. The interview between the 
 two was attended with the warmest emo- 
 tions ; and whoever has seen Sully's jjor- 
 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 battery at New York, a mili- 
 tary line composed of thousands of veter- 
 ans was formed, and the i)eople, 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 
 liis 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 
 stay 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 i^roceeding to New England, the same 
 enthusiasm was exhibited in every city, 
 town, and village. From the residence of 
 Hon. William Eustis, the governor of 
 Massachusetts, in Roxbury, 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 jieople, 
 through whom he passed in a sujjerb 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. While 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 j^leasant 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 you." 
 
 It may here be remarked, that Marble- 
 head was the "banner town" for furnish- 
 ing soldiers, in the revolutionary war, 
 there being a larger proportion to the 
 whole number of inhabitants from that 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 277 
 
 town than any other jilace in the United 
 States. Tlie British armed vessels hover- 
 ing on the coast destroyed the coasting 
 and fishing business, and tlius the loss of 
 men in the war fell heavily iH)on the small 
 seaport towns ; for, being out of employ- 
 ment, nearly all the j'oung 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 
 Avhich linked together the history of the 
 past and present of that city, in the person 
 and services of Lafa3'ette ; 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 iipon him in 
 an address by Governor Stevens. For 
 some time Lafaj'ette could not precisely 
 understand the com[>liment conveyed in 
 the selection of the tent — especially one of 
 that construction — for 
 such proceedings. It 
 was soon made plain, 
 however, for, glancing 
 around, he recognized 
 s|i4.. a portion of Washing- 
 
 A- .^ . .! 
 
 him, he said, in a voice tremulous with emo- 
 tion, "/ remember ! ^^ 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 elegantly addressed by Mr. 
 Clay, speaker of the house of representa- 
 tives, the two branches unanimously unit- 
 
 ing 
 
 in their legislative honors to the 
 
 ton's personal equipage 
 during the war ; and 
 turning to one near 
 
 nation's guest. At this session the sum 
 of two hundred thousand dollars, together 
 with a township, consisting of twentj'- 
 four thousand acres of fertile land, was 
 voted by congress to General Lafaj'ette, as 
 an expression of the grateful memory with 
 which the people 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 Lafaj-ette's 
 disinterestedness and magnanim- 
 ity was that remark ! 
 
 At this time. Governor Pleas- 
 ant was chief magistrate of the 
 Old Dominion,' and warmly wel- 
 comed the na- 
 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- 
 ed for the surrender of Cornwallis, 
 which event gave the finishing blow- 
 to the war, presented a vast field 
 
278 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 of tents at the reception of Lafayette. 
 The same house occupied by Corn w alii s, 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, Avhich 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 Lafayette, 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 place 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, Avho 
 had faced the enemy 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 Avept 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 laying 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 Lafayette, 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 nj^on 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 Avater 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, Lafayette 
 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 participated in the patriotic 
 services — the man who, Avhen 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 peoi)le 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 Webster 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, Lafayette was con- 
 tinually hailed with demonstrations of love 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 279 
 
 and gratitude. Tlio procession was sev- 
 eral miles long, and, on arriving at tlie his- 
 toric spot, the impressive rite of laying the 
 corner-stone was performed by the grand 
 master of the Freemasons, the president of 
 
 ■"^fii,' 
 
 LAFAYETTE'S BIRTHPLACE 
 
 the Monument Association, and General 
 Lafayette, in the presence of a vast con- 
 covirse of j^eople. 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 voice. 
 
 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 Avho 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 
 
 chief of one of the six nations. This letter 
 
 expressed the hearty thanks of Lafayette 
 
 for the 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 
 
 '^k.' 1^-. placed under the care of an 
 '^ '1 . ' 
 ^?'A/ .'•'^'f-.-.iiV t^Wu American agent, by whom she 
 
 ^%-'>IiT'':'^5s»^^;^fe^ was instructed and kindly treat- 
 %iSi{"-'^J^l^'^v^'>^y ed. She became a Christian. As 
 ^^ ^i msc-i . ■'.,?.".--,. -iJi j^ii^. ^^.j^j^ walking out in the foi'- 
 
 est, about five 
 years after, an 
 Indian Avarrior 
 overtook her and 
 informed her that 
 her father was d}'- 
 ing, and wished 
 to see her. She 
 soon started off, 
 traveled all night, 
 and in the morn- 
 reached his 
 hut, which was 
 situated in a narrow valley. As she came to 
 his bedside, he took from his jiouch a paper 
 wrapped in a dry skin, and gave it to her, 
 with a charge to preserve it as a precious 
 gift, sa3ing : "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 day. Mary returned to her white 
 friends, and soon after married the young 
 warrior, who was her father's friend and 
 companion. She had the j^leasure of 
 showing the letter to Lafa3^ette, 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, a 
 German, and he was one of those who 
 
280 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 embarked in the same vessel with Lafay- 
 ette for this country, nearly fifty years 
 back, 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 
 ' young general.' I have had two happy 
 days in my life — one, when I landed with 
 you on the American coast, nearly fifty 
 years ago, and to-day when I see your face 
 again. I have lived long enough." The 
 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 Lafa^^ette, 
 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- 
 hawk ? " 
 
 '* He is here before you," instantly re- 
 plied the aged chief. 
 
 " Ah, I see," replied the general, " time 
 has changed us. We were once young 
 and active." 
 
 " But," said the chief, " 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 wisliing to 
 deceive Red Jacket, took it from his head, 
 to tlie no small amusement of tlie aston- 
 ished Indian. 
 
 A visit to the tomb of Washington was 
 one of tlie most notable events in Lafay- 
 ette's tour. His arrival there was an- 
 nounced by the firing of cannon, which 
 brought to his memory the din of war, — 
 the scenes of the revolution, — when he, 
 with the great but now lifeless chieftain, 
 were side by side in battle. Standing for 
 awhile upon the consecrated ground and 
 
 amidst the solemn stillness of the place, 
 he descended alone into the tomb with his 
 head uncovered. There he remained in 
 solitary contemplation for some time — the 
 living aged veteran communing with the 
 illustrious dead. He returned M'itli his 
 face bathed in tears, and, taking his son 
 and Levasseur, the secretary, by the liand, 
 led them into the tomb. He could not 
 speak, but pointed mutely to the coffin of 
 Washington. Thej'^ knelt reverently by 
 it, kissed it, and, rising, threw themselves 
 into the arms of Lafa3ette, and for a few 
 moments Avept 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 
 the "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 memory. 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 testimony 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, Lafayette 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 
 j)lace at the presidential mansion, on the 
 sixth of September, 1825. The farewell 
 address from the president, in behalf of 
 the whole American jieople, was a most 
 affecting tribute to the lofty character and 
 patriotic services of Lafayette, during his 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 281 
 
 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 
 death, which has linked your name for the 
 endless ages of time with the name of 
 Washington. At the painful moment of 
 
 called to sorrow — most of all, that we 
 shall see your face no more, — for we 
 shall indulge the pleasing anticipation 
 of beholding our friend again. In the 
 name of the whole peoi)le of the United 
 States, I bid you a reluctant and affec- 
 tionate farew^ell." 
 
 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 
 
 same 
 
 -('>Ia.<< '^Cisc-.v ..^^. ^OJ LAFAYETTE'S TOMB. 
 
 parting with you 
 we take comfort 
 
 ^;f:S'* -. ■<■ jj^ ^Ijq 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 
 
 he embarked for 
 Brandy wine, a new 
 frigate, named 
 thus in comiili- 
 ment to Lafay- 
 ette, who, on the 
 banks of that riv- 
 er, was wounded 
 in his first battle 
 for American 
 freedom. In the 
 whole 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 years 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. 
 
XXX. 
 
 DUEL BETWEEN HENRY CLAY, SECRETARY OF STATE, 
 AND JOHN RANDOLPH, UNITED STATES SENA- 
 TOR FROM VIRGINIA.— 1826. 
 
 Kandolph's Bitter Insult to Clay on the Floor of the Senate. — Accuses Him of Falsifying an Official 
 Document. — The 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." — 
 Eesult of the Hostile Meeting. — Fame of tiiese 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. — Biadensburg tiie Duehng-Ground. — Pistols the 
 Weapons Ciiosen. — Colonel Benton a Mutual Friend. — Incidents the Night Before. — Randolph's 
 Secret Resolve. — Going to the Field of Blood. — View of this Slirine 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. 
 
 " 1 would Dot have seen him fall mortally, o» even doubtfully, wounded, for all the land that ia watered by the King of Floods and all 
 his tributary etreams."— Randolph to Benton. 
 
 " I trust in God, my dear sir, you are untouched ; after what has occurred,! would not have harmed you for a thousand world!."— 
 Clay to Ranuolpb. 
 
 T 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. Clay, 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- 
 PRELiMixARiEs OF THE " CODE OF HONOR." dcut had seut in a message to the senate, on the 
 subject of the Panaina mission. A motion was made in the senate for a call ujion 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 : 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 283 
 
 "I was defeated, horse, foot, and dragoons 
 — cut up, clean broke down by the coali- 
 tion of Blilil and Black George — by the 
 combination unheard of till then, of tlie 
 Puritan ivlth the lilacldeij^ But, what 
 was most pointed, jierhaps, than anything 
 else, in this assault upon Mr. Clay's honor, 
 was Randolph's statement, " that a letter 
 from General Salazar, the Mexican min- 
 ister at Washington, submitted by tlie 
 executive to the senate, bore the ear-mark 
 of having been manufactured or forged bj' 
 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 difficult3^ But Ran- 
 dolph, though modifying the unrevised 
 and somewhat inaccurate report of liis 
 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 liope 
 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 ' Eire,' 
 wer^, by agreement between the seconds 
 
 and for the humane purpose of reducing 
 the result as near as possible to chance, to 
 lie 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 liim 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 lighting, and conse- 
 quently no breach of her statute. 
 
 The week's delay, which the seconds 
 had contrived, was about exjiiring. It was 
 Friday night, when Mr Benton Avent 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 the next day. Mrs. 
 Clay 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 Avere gone, and she 
 also had left the parlor, I did what I came 
 for, and said to Mr. Clay 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 Avas noon, and the 
 meeting was to take place at half-past four 
 o'clock. I had gone to see ]Mi'. Randolph 
 
284 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 fresh assurance of it 
 after so many days' delay, and so near 
 approach of the trying moment. I knew 
 it would not do to ask him the question, — 
 any question that would imply a doubt of 
 his word. So I fell upon a scheme to get 
 at the inquiry without seeming 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 
 
 /] uLr. 
 
 '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 mother.^'' 
 
 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 Avhen he pla3'ed 
 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 Avanted some gold, — that coin not 
 being then in circidation, and only to be 
 obtained by favor or purchase, — and sent 
 his faithful man, Johnny, 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 horse." 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 Pennsylvania avenue, 
 Johnny following, as alwa^^s, forty paces 
 behind. Arrived at the bank, the follow- 
 ing scene transpired. Mr. Randoljih asked 
 for the state of his 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 Baidv 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 285 
 
 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 cashier 
 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 \vas 
 to open in case Randolj^h 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 w-as killed, and find 
 so man}^ 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 
 asrreeiner to be shot at, had no desire to be 
 hit, this rapidity 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- 
 ing off 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 lire 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 i)istol, 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 
 Avith 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 
 Johnny, Mr. Randolph, 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 viai/ 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 conijn-ehended that this possible 
 change of determination related to Ran- 
 dolph's firing ; but the emphasis with 
 which he j^ronounced the word ' hk^i!/,' 
 clearly showed that his mind was unde- 
 cided, and left it doubtful whether he 
 would lire 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 
 
286 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 far west of Bladensburg, just beyond the 
 line which 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 Bladensburg in the second war 
 with England, a United States secretary 
 of the treasury shot his antagonist, Mr. 
 Gardenier, through the bod}', both mem- 
 bers of congress, in a party duel. Deca- 
 tur, surrounded by brother naval officers, 
 fell there. A senatorof the United States 
 lost his life there, horribly fighting with 
 muskets at pistol distance. Other 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 
 that which was to witness a mortal con- 
 test between Henry Clay and John Ran- 
 dolph. Not too highly has the graphic 
 delineator of these dramatis personce (Mr. 
 Baldwin, in his "Party Leaders,") drawn 
 the picture, in saying that tJiere stood on 
 the banks of the Potomac, on that hriglit 
 April evening, as the sun luas declining 
 behind the high hills of Virginia, in the 
 attitude of combatants, two men, around 
 whom gathered, probably, a more stirring 
 interest, than around any other two men 
 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, Galhitin, Russell and 
 Adams ; his long period of statesman-like 
 service in the house of representatives, 
 succeeding ro])eatedly to the chair that 
 had been dignified by Muhlenberg, Trum- 
 bull, Dayton, Varnum, Cheves, and Bar- 
 bour, — this his recofd should have 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 affluence ; descended 
 from a long and honored line ; accustomed 
 always to wealth, family influence, and the 
 joride of aristocracy and official position. 
 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 rajDidly, by his boldness 
 and talents, to the very summit of public 
 station and influence, so as to be styled 
 the '' Great Commoner ; " — these were the 
 two men, alike in splendid gifts of intel- 
 lect, yet so unlike in character and circun)- 
 stance, who now, weapon in hand, stood 
 opposed in deadly conflict. 
 
 As they took their stands, the princi- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 287 
 
 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 deliver}' 
 of the word. They stood on a line east 
 and west; tlierc; was ;i small stump just 
 behind Mr. Chiy, ami a low gravelly hank 
 rose just behind Mr. Randolph. The 
 latter asked General Jesup to repeat the 
 word as he would give it ; and while in 
 the act of doing so, and Mr. Randolph 
 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 having sprung the hair. Mr. Clay 
 had not then received his pistol. 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 shots took 
 place, and, happily, without effect upon 
 the 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 
 they missed. 
 
 The moment had now arrived when 
 Colonel Benton felt that he could inter- 
 pose. He arccordingly 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 
 tr^e, " 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 imj)ortuned 
 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 pistul 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 the 
 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, Avhioh 
 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 maij 
 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 not, then, disable him ? 
 Yes, if I please." 
 
288 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 According to the statement of General 
 Jesup, already given, this ' information ' 
 was a misappreliension, Mr. Clay not hav- 
 ing applied for a prolongation of time for 
 the purpose of getting sure aim, but only 
 to enable his unused hand, long unfa- 
 miliar witli the pistol, to lire 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 way he was 
 to give it out, when his finger touched the 
 liair 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- 
 
 mg- 
 
 '^ I would not have seen him fall mo r- 
 tallij, or even douhtfiilly, ^founded, for all 
 the land that is icatered by the King of 
 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 Avithdrew a little way 
 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 
 
 
 
 
 t" />; -•turn 
 -vVH": t ■'- 
 
 
 ^^'^f^^'m^ 
 
 • t:^ '^^Ss^^W^^^Cr-^^'l 
 
 ,,1 '\ -^ A 
 
 
 .■t,*» ' 
 
 '' ; 
 
 
 
 
 
 DUELINO-OROUND AT BLADENSBURO. 
 
 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. Clay,'' — and immediately 
 advancing, and offering his hand. He 
 was met in the same spirit. They met 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 289 
 
 lialf-way, sliook hands, Mr. Randolph say- 
 ing jocosely, " You owe me a coat, Mr. 
 Claij,^'' — (the bullet had passed through 
 the skirt of the coat, very near the hip) 
 — to which Mr. Clay promptly and hap- 
 pily replied, "/ am rjlad the debt is no 
 (jreatevy I had come up, and was prompt 
 to proclaim what I had been obliged to 
 ceep 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. Randol[)h mid 
 his friends, — none of us wanted dinner, — 
 and had a characteristic time of it. A 
 runner came in from the bank, to say that 
 tliey had overpaijl him, by mistake, one 
 hundred and thirty dollars that day. Mr. 
 Randolph answered, '• I believe it is your 
 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 
 l^ay 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 favoi', 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 
 AVashington, with an hundred hacks after 
 him. He took the gold from his left 
 breeches pocket, and said to us (Hamil- 
 ton, Tatnall, and I), — 
 
 " Gentlemen, Clay'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 office 
 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. 
 
 19 
 
 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 you 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 Clay's eye, and that, with malice pre- 
 pense, he means to take my 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, Randolph said : 
 
 " Clay is calm, but not vindictive ; I 
 hold my purpose, Hamilton, in any event ; 
 remember 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 
 xvonld not have harmed you for a thou- 
 sand v'orlds !" 
 
 On the ensuing Monday, Mr. Clay and 
 
290 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 reso-t 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 post. He was dis- 
 
 appointed, however, in his asj)irations for 
 the presidency, though great enthusiasm 
 was manifested for the ticket which, in 
 1831, bore his name at its head, with John 
 Sergeant for vic^'-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 Mr. Lucas. 
 
XXXI. 
 
 FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY AND CELEBRATION OF THE 
 INDEPENDENCE OF THE REPUBLIC— 1826. 
 
 SiiiMen and Siiuiiltaneous Death of Ex-Presidents John Adams and Tliomas Jefferson, its Two Most 
 Illustrious Founders — Tiie Day ot Kesoundiiif; Joy and Jubilee Changed to One of Profound 
 National Sorrow. — No Misloricai Parallel to Such a Remarkable Coincidence. — World-Renowned 
 Caeer of t .ese Statesmen. — K.xtraordinary Preparations for the Day. — Adams and Jefferson then 
 Alive — Siies and Patriarchs of the Nation — Their Names IIousehoM Words. — Invited to Share 
 in the Festivities — They Hail the (Jlorious Morn — Great Uejoicinjjs, Death's Summons. — Jefferson's 
 Di.-<tih^uishing Honor. — Adams's Patriotic Luster — Their Imjierishable Deeds — Calm yet Hit;h 
 Kntliusiasm — Hostile Leaders in Atter-Life — Racy and Piquant Anecdote. — Crisis Point in Adams's 
 Fortunes — His Last Toast for His Country, — " Imlependence Forever." — Two Sages in Old Age — 
 Serenity, Wisdom, Dignity — Former Friendship Revived. — Letters of Mutual Attachment. — Euro- 
 pean Adiuiration Excited — Reverence to their Colossal Fame. 
 
 " Such poss away: hut they leave 
 AH hope, or love, or truth, or Liberty, — 
 Wi osc foms tli'ir ni ghl.v siiirith eould conceive,— 
 To be a rule aud law lo u.,'eb that survive." 
 
 'k OVOUS, painful, I\y sudden and strange transition, to the Anieri- 
 c-an people, was the Fourth of July, 1826, — the anniversary of the 
 fir.st half-century of their national existence, and, as it proved, the 
 day on which the two chief founders of the republic passed, 
 sinuiltaneously, from the scenes of their earthly career to the 
 repose and the rewards of another world; — one of the most remarkable coincidences 
 that has ever occurred in the history of nations. It was the half-centennial Jubilee of 
 American Independence, and preparations had been made in every part of the Union to 
 celebrate the august day with extraordinary demonstrations and observances. John 
 Adams and Thomas Jefferson, two illustrious sages, whose names and lives were pre- 
 eminently identified with the formation of the government, and, for so man}- years, 
 with its history and administration, so much so as to have become household names 
 everyw here, in the nation, were, on this most memorable day, — amid the rejoicings of 
 the people, the peals of artillery, the strains of music, the exultations of a great 
 nation in the enjoyment of freedom, peace, and happiness, — released from the toils 
 of life. 
 
 Ill the personal and public career of these two great patriots, there were many 
 j;)oints of similarity. In the enumeration of these similarities by Mr. Webster, their 
 eloquent eulogist, it appears that they belonged to the same profession, both 
 being learned and able lawyers. They were natives and iidiabitants, respectivel.y, 
 of those two of the colonies, Massachusetts and Virginia, which, at the time of the 
 
292 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 revolution, were the largest and most pow- 
 erful, and which naturally had a lead in 
 the political affairs of the times. When 
 the colonies became in some degree united, 
 by the assembling of a general congress, 
 they Avere brought, at an early period, to 
 act together in its deliberations. Each 
 had already manifested his attachment to 
 tlie cause of the country, as well as his 
 ability to maintain it, by printed addresses, 
 public speeches, extensive correspondence, 
 and whatever other mode could be adoj^ted 
 for the purpose of exposing the encroach- 
 ments of the British parliament, and ani- 
 mating the people to a manly resistance. 
 Both were not only decided, but early, 
 friends of independence. While others 
 yet doubted, they were resolved; where 
 others hesitated, they pressed forward. 
 They were both members of the committee 
 for preparing the Declaration of Independ- 
 ence, and they constituted the sub-com- 
 mittee appointed by the other members to 
 
 versary of American liberty — in the very 
 midst of the festivities which commem- 
 orated the nation's half-centennial jubilee ! 
 Wherever the tidings of their decease 
 could be flashed, on that eventful da)', the 
 voices of festivity and mirth were changed 
 to those of wonder and mourning. 
 
 Jefferson's imperishable renown consists 
 in his having penned the Declaration of 
 Independence, rather than in the fact of 
 his having filled the highest offices, state 
 and national, culminating with that of 
 president of the repiiblic. 
 
 On the other hand, to have been fore- 
 most among those who foresaw and broke 
 the way for the birth of a new nation ; to 
 have been the mover of numerous decisive 
 acts, the undoubted precursors of the great 
 consummation ; to liave been among the 
 many and towering spirits then engaged 
 in defjdng the mightiest throne in Chris- 
 tendom, by acknowledgment unsurpassed 
 in zeal, and unequaled in ability ; to have 
 
 TIIIC .lEFKKHSON' JIANSION AT .M( ».N 1 H i;i,LO. 
 
 make the draft. Jefferson W'as the author 
 of that noblest production of statesman- 
 ship; Adams was its chief parliamentary 
 expositor and triumphant advocate in the 
 '■ assembly of the mighty.' They left their 
 seats in congress, being called to other 
 public employment, at periods not remote 
 from each other. Both became public 
 ministers abroad, both vice-presidents, and 
 both i^residents. All tliese remarkable 
 parallels and coincidences were at last most 
 singularly crowned and comi)leted : They 
 died together — and they died on the anni- 
 
 been exclusively associated with the au- 
 thor of the Declaration ; and then, with a 
 fervid and overwhelming eloquence, to 
 have taken the lead in inspiring the con- 
 gress unanimously to adopt and proclaim 
 it, — this is the glory of John Adams. 
 
 Mr. Adams commenced the practice of 
 the law in his native town of Quincy. At 
 the age of twenty-eight, he was married to 
 Abigail Smith, a country clergyman's 
 daughter, and an excellent woman w^th 
 whom ho lived in wedlock more than fifty 
 years. At the age of thirty, he published 
 
GREAT AND MEMORAHLE EVENTS. 
 
 293 
 
 a dissertation on Canon and Feudal Law, 
 ill whicli he explained the Puritan princi- 
 ples of I'eligion and government, and 
 brouglit them to bear upon the disputes 
 hctween Great Britain and the loloiiies. In 
 17(5G, he removed to Boston. His jnofes- 
 sional standing was now so high, that, in 
 17G8, Governor Bernard offered him the 
 post of advocate-general of the court of 
 admiralt}'. But Mr. Adams had ranked 
 liimself decisively with the friends of the 
 people ; and had he accepted a lucrative 
 office under the crown, although no condi- 
 tions were annexed, his course would not 
 have been the same as heretofore. In 
 truth, the offer must have been intended 
 quite as much to silence his political oppo- 
 sition, as to secure liis legal services. He 
 therefore declined it, but gave a noble 
 evidence, not long aft-erwards, that no base 
 subserviency to the people, any more than 
 to the government, could make him swerve 
 from his own ideas of right. This truth 
 was shown in 1770, by his conduct in ref- 
 erence to the Boston massacre, as the 
 following account will show. 
 
 The scene of bloodshed in King street, 
 Boston, was a natural consequence of the 
 relative positions of the soldiery and the 
 people. No good feeling could possibly 
 exist between them. On the part of the 
 troops, the haughty consciousness that 
 Britain had made them keepers of the 
 province, together with a sense of the 
 odium in which they were held, produced 
 a contemptuous antipathy towards the 
 colonists. 
 
 At the sight of their own blood, shed b}' 
 a hireling soldiery, the ferment of the 
 people became terrible, and was shared, 
 for a time, by the calmest patriots in New 
 England. A multitude, computed at ten 
 or twelve thousand, assembled at Faneuil 
 Hall, and adjourned thence to the Old 
 South Church. There went a rumor, that 
 the tragedy in King street had been pre- 
 meditated, and was but the prelude to a 
 general massacre. For defense against 
 this exaggerated, yet not altogether shad- 
 owy danger, a military guard was enrolled, 
 and the town put itself under martial law. 
 
 No British officer or soldier could have 
 walked the streets with safety to his life. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs, when John 
 Adams, himself the foremost patriot of all, 
 and a member of the people's military 
 guard, was solicited to undertake the 
 defense of Captain Preston, and the sol- 
 diers who had fired the fatal volley, against 
 the charge of murder. It was a singular 
 compliment to his integrity, that the 
 imprisoned soldiers should have sought the 
 aid of a man so situated. 
 
 It does not appear that the confidence 
 of Mr. Adams's countrymen in him was 
 shaken by this act of personal and profes- 
 sional independence; or, if so, it was only 
 for the moment. In 1773, he was chosen 
 a member of the provincial council, but 
 was rejected by the tory Governor Hutch- 
 inson, and afterwards by General Gage. 
 
 In the year 1775, John Adams, as a 
 delegate in congress, nominated George 
 Washington to the post of commander-in- 
 chief of the American armies. The glory 
 of originating this choice appears to be- 
 long jirincijially to Mr. Adams, and, did 
 he need a secondary reputation, this 
 would have been claim enough to his 
 country's gratitude. The service cannot 
 be too highly estimated. Washington's 
 character was of such a nature, that, if 
 some sagacious individual had not pointed 
 him out, he probably would not have been 
 the foremost figure in the public eye 
 Had the selection fallen upon another, no 
 one can conjecture what would have been 
 the result. 
 
 As already stated, Mr. Adams was one 
 of the committee to draft the Declaration 
 of Independence ; and the calm, yet high 
 enthusiasm of the letter in Avhich he 
 announced that event to a friend, and 
 prophesied that its anniversary would 
 become a national festival, must be famil- 
 iar to every American. He had a share 
 in all the weightiest business of congress, 
 and bore the burden of much that was less 
 important, being a member of no less than 
 ninety committees, and chairman of twen- 
 ty-five. In 1777, he was appointed com- 
 missioner to France, to supersede Deane, 
 
294 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 who was the colleague there of Benjamin 
 Franklin and Arthur Lee ; returning home 
 in 1779, he was again sent out, in tlie 
 autumn of that year, with powers to con- 
 clude a treaty of peace and commerce. In 
 1785, the distinguished honor fell to him 
 of being appointed the first minister from 
 the United States to the court of St. 
 James; and, in this capacity, was duly 
 presented to his long-time political enemj-. 
 King George the Third. In 1788, he 
 returned home. He subsequently assisted 
 in forming the constitution of his native 
 state. During the eight years presidency 
 of Washington, Mr. Adams was vice-pres- 
 ident, and, when the former retired from 
 office, Mr. Adams, after a hard political 
 contest with Jefferson and Thomas Pinck- 
 ney, became president of the United 
 
 -f^-zTTl, 
 
 States. At the end, however, of the first 
 four years, Mr. Jefferson came in by a tri- 
 umphant majority, and President Adams 
 retired to domestic life. This was in 1801, 
 when he had reached the age of sixty-six. 
 His long course of public services was 
 now ended. At the period of his retire- 
 ment, he did not enjoy the unreserved and 
 cordial approbation of any party. Some 
 of his measures had gone far towards alien- 
 ating the fedei'alists by whom he had been 
 chosen president, and he had bitter ene- 
 
 mies. Being a man of warm passions, 
 Mr. Adams was not slow to resent, nor 
 cautious to hide his resentment. He once 
 observed, pointing to his own j^ortrait, 
 " That fellow could never keep his mouth 
 shut ! " But he was always frank, and 
 inflexibly honest, as is most plainly shown 
 by the incidents given in his biography, 
 written by Hon. Charles Francis Adams. 
 
 As showing from what accidental cir- 
 cumstances often spring the most import- 
 ant changes in the lives and fortunes of 
 men, the following anecdote is well worth}' 
 of a place in this narrative: 'When I was 
 a boy,' says John Adams, ' I had to study 
 the Latin grammar, but it was dull, and I 
 hated it. My father was anxious to send 
 me to college, and therefore I studied the 
 grammar till I could bear with it no longer, 
 and, going to my father, I told him I did 
 not like study, and asked for some other 
 employment. It was opposing his 
 wishes, and he was quick in his answer. 
 'Well, John,' said he, 'if Latin gram- 
 mar does not suit you, ^-ou may try 
 ditching ; perhaps that will. Mj- 
 meadow yonder needs a ditch, and you 
 may jiut by Latin and try that.' This 
 seemed a delightful change, and to the 
 meadow I Avent. But I soon found 
 ditching harder than Latin, and the first 
 ^ forenoon was the longest I ever expe- 
 rienced. That da}' I ate the bread of 
 labor, and glad Avas I when night came 
 on. That night I made some compar- 
 ison between Latin grammar and ditch- 
 ing, but said not a word about it. I 
 (lug the next forenoon, and wanted to 
 return to Latin at dinner ; but it was 
 humiliating, and I could not do it. At 
 night, toil conquered pride, and I told 
 my father — one of the severest trials of 
 my life — that, if he chose, I would go back 
 to Latin grammar. He was glad of it; 
 and if I have since gained any distinction, 
 it has been owing to the two days' labor 
 in that abominable ditch.' 
 
 Declining farther and farther into the 
 vale of 3'ears, and now long removed from 
 the dust of contending parties, the hoary 
 sage drew towards his sepulchre. For 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 295 
 
 several days before tlie fourtli of July on 
 wliicli lie exi)ire(l, he had been fast fail in<j^, 
 though, in rei)ly to an invitation to partiei- 
 ])ate in the celebration of that day, he 
 wrote a j)atriotic note, full of the lire of 
 his best days. Being desired to furnish a 
 toast for the occasion, he gave — 'Inde- 
 PEXDKXCE Forever!' He was asked if 
 anything should be added to it. He ini me- 
 diately replied, ^^ Not a icordf" This 
 toast was drank at the celebration in 
 Quinc}', about fifty minutes before the 
 (lei)arture of the venerated statesman from 
 earth. On the morning of the fourth, 
 which was ushered in by the ringing of 
 bells and firing of cannon, lie Avas asked if 
 he knew what day it was ? — " yes," he 
 replied, ''it is the glorious fourth of July 
 — God bless it ! — God bless you all ! " In 
 the course of the day he said, " It is a 
 great and glorious day." The last words 
 he uttered were, "Jefferson survives!" 
 But the spirit of Jefferson had already 
 left the body. Among Adams's pall- 
 bearers, were President Kirkland, Judge 
 Story, Judge Davis, and Lieutenant 
 Governor Winthrop. 
 
 ]VIr. Jefferson, the illustrious compeer of 
 Adinis, was born in Albemarle county, 
 Virginia, in 1743, and was entered a stu- 
 dent in the college of William and IMary. 
 On leaving this seminary, he applied him- 
 self to the study of the law, under the 
 tuition of the celebrated George Wythe, 
 and was called to the bar in 1766. He 
 soon occuftied a high stand in his profes- 
 sion, and, at the early age of twenty-five, 
 entered the hoiise of burgesses of his 
 native state. In 1774, he published a 
 Summary View of the Rights of British 
 America, a bold but respectful pamjihlet 
 addressed to the king In 1775, he was 
 elected a member of the continental con- 
 gress, and in the following year drew up 
 the Declaration of Independence, the most 
 remarkable document that has ever, in the 
 ages of the world, proceeded from an 
 uninspired pen. 
 
 Of the committee appointed to draft the 
 momentous Declaration, Jefferson, though 
 the 5'oungest, was unanimously made 
 
 chairman, his colleagues being John 
 Adams of Massachusetts, Benjamin Frank- 
 lin of Bennsylvaiiia, Roger Sherman of 
 Connecticut, and Robert R. Livingston of 
 New York. Jefferson's draft was taken 
 up. in committee of the whole, on the first 
 of July, the chair being filled by Benjamin 
 Harrison, father of William Henry Har- 
 rison, president of the United States in 
 1840. The great manifesto was debated, 
 and, after some slight ..lodifications, was 
 agreed to in the course of a three days' 
 session. No record of that thrilling debate 
 has come down ; only some fragmentary 
 reminiscences of the participants of the 
 drama. Edwai-d Rutledge, of South Caro- 
 lina, is said to have exclaimed, "I should 
 advise persisting in our struggle for liberty 
 and independence, though it were revealed 
 from Heaven that nine hundred and ninety- 
 nine were to perish, and only one of a 
 thousand were to survive and retain his 
 liberty." The Declaration was adopted, 
 by a unanimous A^ote, a little past noon, on 
 the fourth of Jul3^ "Now, gentlemen," 
 said the quaint Dr. Franklin to his col- 
 leagues, " we must all hang together, or 
 we shall surely hang separately." 
 
 Though what may be termed bitter 
 political rivals for a long period, — leading, 
 respectively, the two great opposing par- 
 ties, — time's mellowing influence changed 
 all this, and the two patriarchal statesmen 
 and ex-presidents cultivated a mutually 
 warm and generous friendship in their old 
 age. In a letter written bv Jefferson to 
 Adams, in June, 1822, he says: 
 
 "It is very long, my dear sir, since I 
 have written to you. My dislocated wrist 
 is now become so stiff, that I write slowly, 
 and with pain; and therefore write as 
 little as I can. Yet it is due to mutual 
 friendship, to ask once in a while how we 
 do ? I have ever dreaded a doting old 
 age; and my health has been generally so 
 good, and is now so good, that I dread it 
 still. The rapid decline of my strength 
 during the last winter, has made me hope, 
 sometimes, that I see land. During 
 summer, I enjoy its temperature, but 1 
 shudder at the approach of winter, and 
 
296 
 
 OUR FIKST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 wish I could sleep through it, with the 
 dormouse, and only wake with him in 
 spring, if ever. They say that Starke 
 could walk about his room. I am told you 
 walk well and firmly. I can only reach 
 my garden, and that with sensible fatigue. 
 I ride, however, daily ; but reading is my 
 delight. I should wish never to put pen 
 to paper ; and the more because of the 
 
 Europe, where it excited much commenda- 
 tion, on account of the contrast it afforded 
 between an old age thus dedicated to 
 virtue, temperance, and philosojilij', and 
 the heart-sickening details so often per 
 taining to the lives of those who sit upon 
 thrones. 
 
 Though he had for some time past been 
 failing in his general health, it was not 
 
 THE ADAMS MA^•S10^' AT yUINCV. 
 
 treacherous practice some people have, of 
 publishing one's letters without leave;" 
 -—etc., etc. 
 
 In his reply to the pleasant and cordial 
 
 ietter, from which the above few sentences 
 
 ire extracted as specimens, Mr. Adams 
 
 says, among other friendly and felicitous 
 
 ;xpressions : 
 
 " Half an hour ago I received, and this 
 moment have heard read, for the third or 
 fourth time, the best letter that ever was 
 written by an octogenarian, dated June 
 1st. My sight is very dim, hearing pretty 
 good, memory poor enough. In wishing 
 for your health and happiness, I am very 
 selfish ; for I hope for more letters. This 
 is worth more than five hundred dollars to 
 me ; for it has already given me, and will 
 continue to give me, more pleasure than a 
 thousand ; " — etc., etc. 
 
 This correspondence between the once 
 rival presidents of the greatest republic of 
 the world, was republished iii full, in 
 
 until the first of July that Mr. Jefferson 
 was confined to his bed. On the third, he 
 continued to sink. Near the middle of the 
 night he asked the hour; and on being 
 told that it was near one o'clock, he 
 expressed his joy. He expressed an earn- 
 est desire that he might live to behold the 
 light of the next da}' — the fiftieth anni- 
 versary of the independence of his coun- 
 try. His prayer was answered. At fifty 
 minutes past meridian, July fourth, 1826, 
 Thomas Jefferson ceased to breathe. 
 
 Thus, these two most illustrious fathers 
 of the republic, — associates, rivals, friends, 
 — took their flight together to the other 
 world, on the most memorable day since 
 the birth of the nation, and all classes and 
 parties, forgetting the animosities of the 
 past, united in paying their common trib- 
 ute of reverence to tiie magnificent fame 
 of Adams and Jefferson. In the words of 
 Webster, their great eulogist, ''their 
 
 NAME LIVETH EVERMORE 
 
 !" 
 
XXXII. 
 
 THE "GREAT DEBATE;' BETWEEN WEBSTER AND 
 IIAYNE, IN CONGRESS.— 1830. 
 
 Vital Constitutional Issues Discussed —Unsurpassed Power and Splendor of Senatorial Eloquence — 
 Webster's Speech Acknowledged to be tlie Grandest Forensic Acliievement in tiie Whole Range of 
 Modern Parliamentary Efforts —Golden Age of American Oratory.— Unprecedented Interest and 
 Excitement Produced in the Public Mind. — No American Debate Comparable with This. — Known as 
 the " Battle of the Giants "-Inflamed Peeling at the South.— llayne'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 tlie 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, 
 I'athetic, etc — Hayne's Argument Demolished. — Reception Accorded the Speech. — Rival Orators; 
 Pleasant Courtesies. 
 
 " It hnp Ven my fortune to hear some of the nWost sjvewhen of the greatpft livins orators on both sides of the water, but I must eonfess I 
 never heard iinythin.; which so ooriipletelv riMlized my Coneepcioa of what Ueuiostlienes was when he delivered the Orutiou lor the Crowu." 
 — EuvTAKD hvERKrx ON Webstek's Speech. 
 
 «) ^y 
 
 .•^^- 
 
 HE remark made by a distingitished 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 wa.s, indeed, the greatest forensic exhibition this 
 THE VICTOR'S WREATH. 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 funiishes, and will continue to furnish to future 
 generations, one of the most instructive chapters in the annals of national affairs. "\^ ell 
 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, 
 
298 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G -1876. 
 
 tlie memorials of the occasion fumislied 
 by Mr. Marcli, and, subsequently, by Mr. 
 Lanman, Dr. Tefft, Louis Gaylord Clark, 
 Edward Everett, and others, leave nothing 
 to be supplied. Mr. March's notes are 
 adopted 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 repoi'ted by Mr. Joseph Gales, 
 at the request of Judge Burnett, of Ohio, 
 and other senators. On canvas, too, Hea- 
 ley, the master-painter, has 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 public lands. 
 ]'>ut this immediate question was soon lost 
 sight of in the discussion of a great, A'ital 
 principle of constitutional law, namely : 
 the relative powers of the states and the 
 national government. Upon this, ]\Ir. 
 Renton 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 
 New England and of the policy of the 
 government. It was then that Mr. Ilaj'ne 
 made his attack — sudden, unexpected, and 
 certainly unexampled, — on jNIr. Webster 
 personally, upon Massachusetts and the 
 other northern states politically, and upon 
 the constitution itself; in respect to the 
 latter, Mi-. Ilayne 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 capacit3\ All of these 
 points were handled by Mr. Hayne with 
 that rhetorical brilliancy 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 j)rofound im- 
 pression. 
 
 Mr. Hayne's great effort appeared to be 
 the result of i)remeditation, 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, he requested, through a friend, a 
 postjjonement of the debate; IMr. Hayne 
 objected, however, and the request was 
 refused. The time, the matter, and the 
 manner, indicated that the attai-k was 
 made with a design to crush so formidable 
 a political oj)ponent as JNIr. Webster had 
 become. To this end, ])crsonal history, 
 the annals of New England and ef the 
 federal party, were ransacked for materi- 
 als. It was attempted, with the usual 
 partisan unfairness of ])olitical h:irangues, 
 to make him responsible, not only for what 
 was his own, but for llie conduct andoi)in- 
 ions of otlier:>. All llie errors and delin- 
 quencies, real or supposed, of IMassachu- 
 setts, and the eastern states, and of the 
 federal party, during the war of 1812, and, 
 indeed, j)riur and sid»sequent to that 
 period, Avere accumulated u])on him. 
 
 Thus it was, that ]\[r. Hayne heralded 
 his s])eech with a bold declaration of war, 
 with taunts and threats, vaunting ;;ntici- 
 pated triumj)h, as if to i)aralyze by intimi- 
 dation; saying that he would carry the 
 war into Africa, until he had obtained 
 indemnity for the past and security- for the 
 future. It was supposed that, as a distin- 
 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 ])opular resolutions of '98. 
 
 The severe nature of Mr. Hayne's 
 charges, the ability Avith which he brought 
 them to bear upon his opponents, his great 
 reputation as a brilliant and ])owerful 
 declaimer, filled the minds of his friends 
 with anticipations of complete triumph. 
 For two days, Mr. Hayne had the control 
 of the floor. The vehemence of his Ian- 
 
GllEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 299 
 
 giiage and the earnestness of liis manner 
 gave added force to the exeitement of the 
 occasion. So fluent and melodious wasliis 
 elocution, that his cause naturally hegat 
 synipatliy. No one had time to deliberate 
 upon his rapid words, or canvass his sweei)- 
 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 liearer. 
 The immediate impression from the speech 
 was most assuredlv <lisheartenin<x to the 
 cause Mr. Webster upheld. Congratula- 
 tions from almo^ every quarter were show- 
 ered upon the speaker. Mr. Benton said, 
 in tlie 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 fertilit}' of his imagination; his 
 copious and fatal logic ; the scathing sever- 
 ity of his sarcasm, and his full and electri- 
 fying eloquence. Mr. Webster's own 
 feelings with reference to the speech were 
 freely expressed to liis friend, Mr. Everett, 
 the evening succeeding Mr. Hayne's clos- 
 ing effort. He regarded the speech as an 
 entirely unprovokeil attack upon the north, 
 and, what was of far more importance, as 
 an exposition of a system of politics, 
 which, in Mr. Webster's ojiinion, 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-cliamber. 
 How grandly he did this, is thus vividly 
 portrayed by ]\Ir. March, an eye-witness, 
 and whose account has l)een adopted by all 
 historians : 
 
 It was on Tuesday, January the twenty- 
 sixth, 1830, — a day to be hereafter forever 
 memoral)le 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 
 
 ROBEUT Y. HAYXE. 
 
 three da^'s previous Ijecn 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 filled to its utmost 
 capacity. The very stairwa3-s were dark 
 with men, who hung on to one another, 
 like bees in a swarm. 
 
 The house of representatives was early 
 deserted. An adjournment would hardly 
 have made it emptier. The speaker, it is 
 true, retained his chair, but no business of 
 moment was, or could be, attended to. 
 Members all rushed in, to hear Mr. Weli- 
 ster, and no call of the house, or other par- 
 liamentary proceedings, could compel them 
 back. The floor of the senate was so 
 
300 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 densely crowded, that persons once in 
 could not get out, nor change their posi- 
 tion. In the rear of the vice-president's 
 cliair, the crowd was jjarticularly 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 di.s- 
 placing a vast portion of the multitude ; 
 unfortunately, 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 jiainted glass, flanhed 
 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 courtesy 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, ability, 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, and felt equal 
 to, the destinies of the moment. The ver}^ 
 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 
 goeth on to meet the armed men, — who 
 sayeth 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 Avas, too, at this 
 period, in the very prime of manhood. He 
 had reached middle age — an era in the life 
 of man, Avhen the faculties, ph^'sical or 
 intellectual, may be supposed to attain 
 their fullest organization, and most perfect 
 development. Whatever there Avas 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 emergency, and of his 
 ability to control it, seemed to jwssess 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 anxiety to hear the speech was so 
 intense, irrepressible, and universal, that 
 no sooner had the A'ice-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 b}' heart 
 everywhere : " Mr. President, when the 
 mariner lias 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, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 301 
 
 be al)lo to form some conjecture where we 
 now ;irc. I ask for the reading of the res- 
 ohition." Calm, resolute, impressive, was 
 this opening utterance. 
 
 There wanted no more to enchain the 
 attention. There was a spontaneous, 
 though silent, expression of eager approba- 
 tion, as the orator concluded these opening 
 remarks. And while the clerk read the 
 resolution, manj' 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, 
 voluntarily, or in spite of themselves, were 
 wholly carried away b}' 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 jiroceedcd far in his 
 speech. Their fears soon took another 
 direction. AVhen 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 jjeril- 
 ous. They feared an Icarian fall. 
 
 No one, surely, could ever forget, who 
 was pi'esent to hear, the tremendous — the 
 awful — burst of eloquence with which the 
 orator apostrophized the old Bay State 
 which Mr. Haj'ne 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 historj- ; 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, by 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 forth 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. 
 
302 
 
 OUK FIKST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 and on the very spot of its origin."' Ko 
 New England heart but throbbed with 
 vehement, absorbed, irrepressible emotion, 
 as Mr. Webster tlius dwelt upon New 
 England sutferings, New England strug- 
 gles, and New England triumphs, during 
 the war of the revolution. Tiiere 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 variously but always warmly excited, 
 deepening in intensity as he ])rocceded. 
 At first, while the orator was going 
 through his exordium, they held their 
 breath and hid their faces, mindful of the 
 fierce attack upon him and New England, 
 and the fearful odds against any one 
 standing up as a champion of the latter; 
 as he went deeper into his speech, they 
 felt easier; when he turned Hayne's flank 
 on " Banquo's ghost" — that famous rhe- 
 torical figure used by the South Carolinian, 
 — they breathed freer and fuller. L'ut 
 anon, as he alluded to Massachusetts, their 
 feelings were strained to tlio utmost ten- 
 sion ; a;id when the senator, concluding 
 his passages upon the hind of their birth, 
 turned, intentionally or otherwise, his 
 burning eye upon them, tears were falling 
 like rain adowa their cheeks. 
 
 No one wh > was nut present can under- 
 stand the excitement of the scene. No 
 one, who v/as, can give an adequate de- 
 scription of it. No word-painting can 
 convey the deep, intense enthusiasm, — the 
 reverential attention, of that vast assem- 
 bly, — nor limner transfer to canvas their 
 earnest, eager, awe-struck countenances. 
 Though language were as subtle and flex- 
 ible as thought, it still would be impossi- 
 ble to represent the full idea of the occa- 
 sion. 
 
 Much of the instantaneous effect fif the 
 speech arose, of course, from the orator's 
 delivery — the tones of his voice, his coun- 
 
 tenance, and manner. These die mostly 
 with the Occasion ; they can only be 
 described in general terms. '' Of the 
 effectiveness of Mr. Webster's manner, in 
 many parts," says Mr. Everett, himself 
 almost without a peer, as an orator, " it 
 would be in vain to attemj)t to give any 
 one not present the faintest idea. It has 
 been my fortune to hear some of the ablest 
 si>eeches of the greatest living orators on 
 both sides of the water, but I must confess 
 I never heard anything which so com- 
 pletely realized my conception of what 
 Demosthenes was when he delivered the 
 Oration for the Crown." There could be 
 no higher praise than this. Kean nor 
 Kemble, nor any other masterly delineator 
 of the human passions, ever produced a 
 more powerful impression upon an audi- 
 ence, or swayed so completely their hearts. 
 
 No one ever looked the orator, as he did, 
 — in form and feature how like a god ! His 
 countenance spake no less audibly- than his 
 words. His manner gave new force to his 
 language. As lie stood swaying his right 
 arm, like a huge tilt-hammer, up and 
 down, his swar'Jiy countenance lighted up 
 with excitement, he api)eared amid the 
 smoke, the fire, the thunder of his elo- 
 quence, like Vulcan in his armory forging 
 thoughts for the gods ! Time had i:ot 
 thinned nor bleached his hair; it was as 
 dark as the raven's jdumage, surmounting 
 his massive brow in ample Jolds. His eye, 
 always dark and deep-set, enkindled by 
 some glowing thought, shone from beneath 
 his somber, overhanging brow like lights, 
 in the blackness of night, from a sepul- 
 chre. No one understood, better than INIr. 
 AVebster, the philosophy of dress; — what a 
 powerful auxiliary it is to speech and 
 manner, when harmonizing with them. 
 On this occasion he appeared in a blue 
 coat, a buff vest, Hack pants, and white 
 cravat, a costume strikingly in keeping 
 with his face and expression. 
 
 The human face iiever wcn-e an expres- 
 sion of more withering, relentless scorn, 
 than when the orator replied to Hayne's 
 allusion to the " murdered coalition," — a 
 piece of stale political trumpery, Avell 
 
GREAT AND MEMORAl'.LE EVENTS. 
 
 
 understood at that day. " It is," said ^Ir. 
 Webster, " the very cast-off slougli of a 
 polhited and shameless i)ress. Incapahh.' 
 of furtlier niiseliief, it lies in the sewer, 
 lifeless and despised. It is not now, sir, 
 in the power of the honorahle member to 
 give it dignity or deeenc}-, by attenqding 
 to elevate it, and introduce it into the 
 senate. He cannol: chani'e it fronj what 
 it is — an object of general disgust and 
 scorn. On tlie contraiy, the contact, if he 
 choose to touch it, is more likely to di'ag 
 him down, down to the place where it lies 
 itself ! " lie looked, as he spoke these 
 words, as if the thing he alluded to was 
 too mean for scorn itself, and the sliar[), 
 stinging enunciation, made the words still 
 more scathing. The audience seemed 
 relieved, — so crushing was the ex[)ressiou 
 of his face which they held on to, as 'twere, 
 spell-bound, — when he turned to other 
 topics. 
 
 But the good-natured yet provoking 
 irony with which he described the imagin- 
 ary thougli life-like scene of direct collision 
 between the marshaled army of South 
 Carolina under General H.iyne on the o:ie 
 side, and the officers of the United States 
 on the other, nettled his ojtponent even 
 more than his severer satire; it seemed so 
 ridiculously true. AVith his true Southern 
 blood, Ilayne inquired, with some degree 
 of emotion, if the gentleman from Massa- 
 chusetts intended any persoiKil imputation 
 by such remarks ? To which Mr. Web- 
 ster replied, with perfect good humor, 
 "Assuredly not — just the rcucrsal" 
 
 The variety of incident during the 
 speech, and the rapid fluctuation of pas- 
 sions, kept the audience in continual 
 expectation, and ceaseless agitation. The 
 speech was a complete drama of serious, 
 comic, and pathetic scenes ; and though a 
 large portion of it was strictly argumenta- 
 tive — an exposition of constitutional law, 
 — yet, grave as such portion necessarily 
 must be, severely logical, and abounding 
 in no fancy or episode, it engrossed, 
 throughout, undivid(;d attention. 
 
 Tlie swell of Iks voice and its solemn 
 roll struck upon the ears of the enraptured 
 
 audience, in deep and thrilling cadence, as 
 waves ujion the shore of the far-resound- 
 ing sea. The Miltonic grandeur of his 
 words was the lit expression of his great 
 thoughts, and raised his hearers uj) to his 
 theme ; and his voice, exerted to its utmost 
 power, penetrated every recess or corner 
 of the senate — jienetrated even the ante- 
 rooms and stairway's, as, in closing, he 
 pronounced in deejjest tones of pathos 
 these words of solemn significance: 
 "AVlien my eyes shall be turiie(l lolichold, 
 for the last time, the i^un in heaven, nuiy 
 I not see him shining on the liroken and 
 dislionored fragments of a once glorious 
 Union ; on states dissevered, discordant, 
 belligerent; on a land rent with civil 
 feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal 
 blood! Let their last feeble and lingering 
 glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign 
 of the republic, now known and honored 
 throughout the earth, still full high 
 advanced, its arms and trojihies streaming 
 in their original luster, not a stripe erased 
 nor polluted, not a single star obscured, 
 bearing for its motto no such miserable 
 interrogatory as, " What is all this worth ?" 
 — nor those other words of delusion and 
 folly, " Liberty first and Union after- 
 wards : " but everywhere, spread all over 
 in characters of living light, Idazing on all 
 its ample folds, as they float over the sea 
 and over the land, and in every wind 
 under the whole heavens, that other senti- 
 ment, dear to every American heart, 
 "Lii;ei:ty axd Uniox, now and fui:- 
 
 EVEU, ONE AND INSErAKAlJLE ! " 
 
 The sjieech was over, but the to::es of 
 the orator still lingered upon the ear, and 
 the audience, unconscious of the close, 
 retained their ])Ositions. Hverywhere 
 around seemed forgetfulness of all but the 
 orator's presence and words. There never 
 was a deeper stillness; silence could almost 
 have heard itself, it was so supernaturally 
 still. The feeling was too overpowering, 
 to allow expression by voice or hand. It 
 was as if one was in a trance, all motion 
 paralyzed. But the descending hammer 
 of the chair awoke them, wi;h a start ; and 
 with one universal, long drawn, deep 
 
304 
 
 OUR FIRST CEXTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 WEBSTER'S REPLY TO HAYSTE. 
 
 breath, with which the overcharged heart 
 seeks relief, the crowded assembly broke 
 up and departed. 
 
 New England men walked down Penn- 
 sylvania avenue that daj^, after the sj^eech, 
 with a firmer step and bolder air — ' pride 
 in their port, defiance in their eye.' They 
 devoured the way in their stride. They 
 looked every one in the face they met, 
 fearing no contradiction. They swarmed 
 in the streets, having become miraculously 
 multitudinous. They clustered in i)arties 
 and fought the scene over one hundred 
 times that night. Their elation was 
 the greater, by reaction. Not one of 
 them but felt he had gained a personal 
 victory. 
 
 In the evening, General Jackson held a 
 presidential levee at the White House. It 
 was known, in a<lvance, that Mr. Webster 
 would attend it, and hardly had the hos- 
 pitable doors of the mansion been thrown 
 open, when the crowd that had filled the 
 senate-chamber in the morning rushed in 
 
 and occupied the rooms, leaving a vast 
 and increasing crowd at the entrance. 
 On all previous occasions, the general 
 himself had been the observed of all 
 observers. His receptions were always 
 gladly attended by large numbers ; and 
 to these he himself was always the chief 
 object of attraction, on account of his 
 great military and personal rei:)utation, 
 official position, gallant bearing, and 
 courteous manners. 
 
 But on this occasion, the room in which 
 he received his company was deserted, as 
 soon as courtesy to the president permitted. 
 Mr. AVebster Avas in the East Eoom, and 
 thither the whole mass hurried. He stood 
 almost in the center of the room, pressed 
 upon by surging crowds, eager to pay him 
 deference. Hayne, too, was there, and,with 
 others, went up and complimented Mr. Web- 
 ster on his brilliant effort. In a subsequent 
 meeting between the two rival debaters, 
 Webster challenged Hayne to drink a glass 
 of wine with him, saying, as he did so, — 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 305 
 
 " General Hayne, I drink to your health, 
 and I hope that you may live a thousand 
 years. " 
 
 " I shall not live more than one hundred, 
 if you make another such speech," Hayne 
 replied. 
 
 To this day, Wehster's speech is re- 
 garded as tlie masterpiece of modern elo- 
 quence, — unsurpassed hy even the might- 
 iest efforts of Pitt, Fox, or Burke, — a 
 matchless intellectual achievement and 
 complete forensic triumph. It was to this 
 great and triumphant effort, that Mr. 
 Webster's subsequent matchless fame as a 
 statesman was due; and, that he was 
 equal to comprehending tlie true principles 
 of international, as well as those of inter- 
 nal, justice and policy, is abundantly 
 proved by his diplomacy with Great Brit- 
 ain, to which the highest credit is awarded 
 by Eliot, the accomplished historian, in his 
 concise and admirable review of public 
 affairs during this period. An insurrec- 
 tion (says Mr. Eliot) having broken out 
 in Canada, it was immediately supported 
 by American parties, the insurgents being 
 in favor of reform or independence. One 
 of these American parties, in company 
 with some Canadian refugees, after pillag- 
 ing the New York arsenals, seized upon 
 Navy Island, a British possession in the 
 Niagara river. Mr. Marcy was governor 
 of New York at this time. The steamer 
 Caroline, engaged in bringing over men, 
 arms, and stores to the island, was de- 
 stroyed, though at the time on the Ameri- 
 can shore, by a Britsh detachment. The 
 deed was instantly avowed by the minister 
 of Great Britain at Washington as an act 
 of self-defense on the British side. One 
 of the chief characters in these exciting 
 movements was William M'Kenzie. In 
 November, 1840, one Alexander M'Leod, 
 
 sheriff of Niagara, in Canada, and as such 
 a participator in the destruction of the 
 Caroline, was arrested in New York on 
 the charge of murder, an American having 
 lost his life when the steamer was de- 
 stroyed. The British government de- 
 manded his release, in doing which they 
 were sustained by the United States 
 administration, on the ground that M'Leod 
 was but an agent or soldier of Great Brit- 
 But the authorities of New York 
 
 ain 
 
 held fast to their prisoner, and brought 
 him to trial. Had harm come to him, his 
 government stood pledged to declare war ; 
 but he was acquitted for want of proof. 
 Tlie release of M'Leod did not, however, 
 settle the affair of the Caroline ; this still 
 remained. There were, or there had been, 
 other difficulties also, — namely, upon the 
 Maine frontier, where the boundary-line 
 had never yet been run. Collisions took 
 place, between the Maine militia and the 
 British troops, and others had been but 
 just prevented. 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. 
 
 ao 
 
XXXIII. 
 
 RISE AXD PROGRESS OF THE MORMONS, OR "LATTER- 
 DAY SAINTS," UNDER JOSEPH SMITH, THE 
 "PROPHET OF THE LORD."— 1830. 
 
 His Assunieil Discovery of the Golden Plates of a New Bible. — Apostles Sent Forth and Converts 
 Obtained in All Parts of the World. — Founding and Destruction of Nauvoo, the " City of Zion." — 
 Smith's Character. — Removal 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 First Church. — Strange Title Adopted. — 
 Smitli'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." 
 
 — " And with a piece of scripture 
 Tell tlieni, — that Ooil bids us do good for cril. 
 
 And thus I clotlie my nnktd villainy 
 With old odd ends, stol'n (orth of Holy "Writ, 
 And seem a saint, when most I play the devil." 
 
 F the many oracular predictions indulged in by trans-Atlantic wiseacres,, 
 concerning tlie future of American history, not one of them has had 
 so accurate and remarkable a fulfillment as that made by Robert 
 Southe}'', 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 Mohammed to arise, there is no 
 part of 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 continually discharge the 
 restless part of their poptilation, leaving laws and Gospel to overtake it if they can, for 
 in the march of modern civilization both are left behind." This prophecy was uttered 
 long before even the name of 'Mormon' had been heard in the west, and, bating the 
 hermit-poet's very natural fling at camp-meetings, and his English cant about American 
 immorality, is worthy of a seer. 
 
GKEAT AND MEINIOIIABLE EVENTS. 
 
 307 
 
 Joseph Smith, tlie Mohammed of tlie 
 West, — founder of the sect called Mor- 
 mons, or Latter-Day Saints, — was born in 
 Sharon, Vermont, December 23, 1805, 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, dishonesty, and other immoralities. 
 Joseph was especially 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, his 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 pur- 
 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), which 
 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 Urini 
 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 hieroglyphics 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 keep the sacred records 
 
 from profane eyes, read off, through the 
 transparent stones, the " l->ook of Mor- 
 mon," or Golden Bible, to Oliver Cowdery,, 
 who wrote it down as Smith read it. It 
 was printed in 18o(), in a volume of 
 several hundred pages. Appended to it 
 was a statement signed by Oliver Cow- 
 dery, David Whitmer, 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 testimony. 
 
 It is charged by the opponents of 
 Smith, that the book in question was not 
 the production of Smith, in any wise, but 
 of the Rev. Solomon Spalding, who wrote 
 it as a sort of romance, and that it was 
 seen and stolen by Sidney Eigdon, 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 published, and with 
 the proceeds to pay his debts. The 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. Thej^ afterward had 
 quarrels and contentions, and separated 
 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 testimony 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 
 
308 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Mormon bible was made up of identically 
 the same matter, combined with portions 
 of the true Scrijiture. 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 
 Dames 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, Pennsj'lvania, where he died in 
 1816. His manuscript remained in the 
 printing-office a long time, and in this 
 office Rigdon was a workman. There is 
 the best evidence, therefore, that the 
 so-called Mormon bible had for its basis 
 tlie matter contained in Mr. Sj^alding's 
 work. Rigdon, however, had at first no 
 open connection with Smith, and was con- 
 verted by a special mission sent into his 
 neighborhood m 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 
 evidently copied after the Mexican calen- 
 
 dar given by Humboldt, bat 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, 
 projihets, 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 
 gatliering of Israel, and the restoration of 
 the ten tribes ; that Zion will be estab- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 301) 
 
 lished upon the western continent; tliat 
 Christ will reign personally upon the 
 earth a thousand 3'ears, and the earth 
 will be renewed and receive its paradisiacal 
 glory ; that there is to hv u literal resur- 
 rection of the body, and that the rest 
 of the dead live not again until the 
 thousand years have expired ; that the 
 privilege belongs to all, of unmolested 
 worship of God, according to the dictates 
 of conscience ; tliat all persons are to be 
 subject to kings, queens, presidents, rulers, 
 and magistrates, in obeying, 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 
 immediatel}'^ 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 divideil into societies, called quorums 
 of seventies, and every quorum preserves 
 on its records a complete genealogy 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. The 
 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 
 sjiiritual 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 
 i-omaining three, as judges, render judg- 
 ment as to the costs or punishment. From 
 this court the only appeal is to the presi- 
 denc3\ 
 
 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 Smith, 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 Cowder}^, 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- 
 ville, N. Y. 
 
310 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 On the first of June, 1830, the first con- 
 ference of the church was held at Fayette, 
 N. Y., and soon after, Messrs. Pratt and 
 Rigdon united publicly with the order. 
 Meanwhile, converts multijilied rapidl}'. 
 
 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 superior 
 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 tlie 
 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 1)oth 
 sides. 
 
 These outrages, according to the annals 
 given by Perkins, kindled the wrath of 
 the prophet at Kirtland, who took steps to 
 bring about a great gathering of his 
 
 disciples, and, marshaling them as an 
 army, in May, 1834, he started for Mis- 
 souri, which in due time he reached, but 
 with no other result than the transfer of a 
 certain portion 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 county, 
 where, by jiermission of the neighbors and 
 state legislature, they organized a county 
 government, the country having been pre- 
 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 3'ear 1832 was distinguished 
 by the tarring and feathering of Smith 
 and Rigdon by a mob, for attempting to 
 establish communism, and for alleged dis- 
 honorable dealing, forgery, and swindling, 
 in connection with the Kirtland Safety 
 Society Bank, founded by them ; 
 the conversion of Mr. Brigham 
 Young, and his baptism by Eleazer 
 Millard, also the baptism of Mr. 
 Heber C. Kimball ; and the es- 
 tablishment of the first Mormon 
 periodical, by Mr. W. W. Phelps. 
 In 1833, the gift of tongues 
 was conferred ; the re-translation 
 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 
 
GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 311 
 
 missionar}' tour toward the east. Young 
 was so devoted a disciple of Mormonisin, 
 that he said of Sinitli, its founder : 
 
 "The doctrine lie teaches is all I know 
 about the matter; bring anj'thing against 
 that, if you can. As to anything else, I 
 do not care if he acts like a devil ; he has 
 brought forth a doctrine that will save us, 
 if we will abide by it. lie may get drunk 
 every day of his life, sleep with his neigh- 
 bor's wife every night, run horses and 
 gamble ; I do not care anything about 
 that, for I never embrace any man in my 
 faith." 
 
 Bigdon was equally bold and lawless ; 
 who declared, in behalf of the prophet and 
 his followers, in a sermon preached at 
 Ear West, to a great concourse, 
 
 " We take God and all the holy angels 
 to witness this 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 vis to disturb us, it shall be 
 between them and us a Avar 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 houses 
 and their own families, and one party or 
 the other shall be utterly destroyed." 
 
 On the 20th of July, 1837, Elders Kim- 
 ball, Hyde, Richards, Goodson, Russell, 
 and Priest Fielding, sailed from New 
 York for Liverpool, to preach and propa- 
 gate Mormonism, and 2:)roselytes 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 Avith 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 the 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 place was afterward called 
 Naiivoo, "the beautiful site," and soon 
 numbered thousands of souls; the build- 
 ing of the famous temple was commenced 
 the next year. Polj'gamy 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 adultery, 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 avIio 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 arm themselves. Governor 
 Ford, of Illinois, persuaded the Smiths, 
 vinder pledge 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 jirisoners were at once 
 arrested for treason. Listead 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 security'. 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 
 
312 
 
 OUK, FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 and Hyrum Smith, and. instantly fled. In 
 his struggle against the mob, the prophet 
 attempted, as a last resort, to leap from the 
 window, when two halls pierced 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 parts 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 E-igdon, 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 Kauvoo, 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, Avas 
 
 MORMON TEMPLE. 
 
 erected of polished limestoi. e; 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, wliich 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 Mississij)pi in the winter of 
 1846, 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 by 
 President Fillmore, Brigham Young was 
 appointed governor, and thus became the 
 sujDreme head of the church and state. 
 He has ruled with consummate tact and 
 success, overcoming all oj^position from 
 " Gentile " sources, and even keeping at 
 bay the national government itself. He 
 declared, " I am, and will he, governor, 
 and no potver on earth can hinder it, until 
 the Lord Almighty says, ^ Brigliavi, you 
 need not he governor any longer.^ " Under 
 his teachings and practice, polygamy be- 
 came firmly established and universal, the 
 jirohibitory laws of the United States in 
 this matter being openly defied. His 
 conduct he defended in powerful harangues- 
 to the faithful, Avho were alwaj^s ready, at. 
 the word of command, to fight or murder,, 
 in behalf of their political and 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 impostors sent forth from head- 
 quarters to convert the " gentile " world. 
 Of Young, personally, the description 
 usually given is that of a man rather- 
 above the medium height and somewhat 
 corpulent, with a face indicative of pene- 
 tration and firmness ; hair parted on tlie 
 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,. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 313 
 
 
 SALT LAKE CITY, THE MORMON ZION. 
 
 the side line between the nose and 
 the mouth considembly broken, and the 
 chin peaked ; hands well made ; tlie whole 
 figure large, broad-shouldered, and stoop- 
 ing a little when standing. In dress, no 
 Quaker could be neater or plainer, — all 
 gray homespun, except the cravat and 
 waistcoat ; the coat of antique cut, and, 
 like the pantaloons, baggy, and the but- 
 tons black; a neck-tie of dark silk, with 
 a large bow, was loosely passed around a 
 starchless collar, which turned down of its 
 own accord ; the waistcoat of black satin 
 — once an article of almost national dress 
 — single-breasted, and buttoned nearly to 
 the neck, and a plain gold chain passed 
 into the pocket. In manner, affable and 
 impressive, simple and courteous, exciting 
 in strangers a consciousness of his power. 
 The number of his wives was never known 
 by any person but himself ; and the multi- 
 tude of his children, thus born into the 
 world, constituted his chief boast. Those 
 who would like to know more of the 
 details of a Mormon prophet's harem will 
 find them amply portrayed in the works 
 of Burton, Ferris, Waite, Bowles, Colfax, 
 and other travelers in that region. 
 
 Salt Lake Cit}'-, about two thousand 
 miles west of New York, is situated on 
 the east bank of the river Jordan, a stream 
 which connects Great Salt Lake and Lake 
 Utah ; it is separated as Avell from the 
 western frontier as from the Pacific coast, 
 by dreary, timberless prairies, sand plains, 
 and high mountains, the mountains on 
 the east side being covered with perpetual 
 
 snow, and their summits are nearly two 
 miles above the level of the sea. Thus, 
 the Mormons form an isolated people, 
 and their home is almost shut out from 
 the rest of mankind. The city was laid 
 out so as to contain two hundred and 
 sixty blocks of ten acres each, divided 
 into eight lots and four public squares ; 
 the streets, one hundred and twenty-eight 
 feet wide, and a stream of water flowing 
 through each, for the purpose of irrigat- 
 ing the gardens ; and the squares being 
 adorned with trees from the four quarters 
 of the globe, and adorned with fountains. 
 The houses are built of sun-dried brick, 
 and are generally small and of one story, 
 with separate entrances where there are 
 several wives. The great temple, built in 
 the Gothic style, is one hundred and fifty 
 feet long and sixty feet wide. One of the 
 largest buildings is the tithing-house, 
 where is deposited one-tenth of all the 
 products of the territory for the benefit 
 of the church. Almost " all the authorities 
 of Zion " live in this, the great city 
 thereof, with families comprising from 
 twenty-five to two wives each, and there 
 are many more girls than boys born. The 
 population is composed largely of English, 
 Scotch, Welsh and Danes. In the taber- 
 nacle, a large public building, the people 
 assemble on the Sabbath, to hear the 
 Mormon gospel preached by the prophet 
 and his coadjutors. In another building, 
 called the Endowment House, the secret 
 orders, sacred ordinances, and solemn mys- 
 teries of Mormonism are administered. 
 
XXXIY. 
 
 CAREER, CAPTURE, AND EXECUTION OF GIBBS, THE 
 MOST NOTED PIRATE OF THE CENTURY.— 1831. 
 
 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 Butchered — Gibbs Born in Rhode Island — Joins the Privateer Maria. — Captures Her in a 
 Mutiny — Hoists the Black Flag. — Gibbs Chosen Leader. — Rendezvous at Cape Antonio — Booty 
 Sold in Havana. — No Lives Spared. — One Beautiful Girl Excepted. — Atrocious Use Made of Her. — 
 Tlie Maria Chased All Day. — Her Final Abandonment. — A New Craft: Kich Prizes — Fight with a 
 United States Frigate. — Gibbs Overmatched and Flees — Fatal Voyage in the Vineyard — Lands at 
 Southampton, L. I. — His Infamy Brought to Light. — Arrested With His Treasure. — Confession of 
 His Guilt. — Black Record of Crime and Blood. — Close of His Ill-Starred Life. 
 
 " Lending a pirate's crew, 
 0"er tile (lurk f^ea 1 flew. 
 Wild was the life we led. 
 Many the souls that sped. 
 Many the hearts that bled, 
 
 By our stern orders.' 
 
 APPSAI< or A OIKL TO GIBBS TO SPARE HEB LIFE. 
 
 OTWITHSTANDING a new generation 
 has come upon tlie stage of human af- 
 fairs, since "Gibbs, theinvate^'' startled 
 the world by his hold and atrocious 
 career on the high seas, liis deeds are 
 still read of, rehearsed, and listened to, 
 Avith the same wondering interest and 
 involuntary shudder, as when, in the 
 daj's of their actual occurrence, they broke 
 fresh upon the ears of an astonished and 
 outraged community ; — a career which, in 
 spite of the destiny that inevitably awaits 
 such a course of crime against mankind, 
 seemed for years to defy and baffle all the 
 efforts of pursuit and of retributive justice. 
 From the various accessible resources of 
 information concerning this notorious 
 adept in piracy and blood, it appears that 
 his native place was Providence, R. I., his 
 real name, James D. Jeffers, having been 
 given up, and that of Charles Gibbs sub- 
 stituted. Bearing this name, at the very 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 315 
 
 Tuention of which mankind would ai'ter- 
 wards shudder, he beeiinie, in the widest 
 and most gliastly sense of tlie term, ever 
 applied to man, the Soiny/r of the Occ<tti. 
 
 In November, 1830, there sailed from 
 New Orleans for Philadeli)hia, the brig 
 Vineyard, Captain William Thornby, with 
 William Roberts as mate, and the follow- 
 ing crew : Charles Gibbs, John Brownrigg, 
 Robert Dawes, Henry Atwell, James 
 Talbot, A. Church, and Thomas I. Wans- 
 ley, a young negro native of Delaware, 
 who acted as cook. W^hen the Vineyard 
 ihad been five days at sea, Wansley made it 
 Icnown to the crew that there were fifty 
 thousand dollars in specie on board. This 
 information excited their cupidity, and 
 induced them to secretly consult as to 
 ■whether and how they could get the money 
 into their own hands. Many conversa- 
 tions took place on the subject, and while 
 these were going on, Dawes, who was a 
 mere boy, was sent to converse with the 
 officers, in order to divert their attention 
 fro n \vhat was passing. 
 
 Finally, the resolution was taken, that 
 as the master and mate were old men, it 
 was time they should die and make room 
 for the rising generation. Moreover, they 
 were of the opinion that as the mate was 
 of a peevish disposition, he deserved death. 
 It does not appear, however, that Brown- 
 rigg or Talbot had any part in these plans, 
 or in the foul deed that resulted from 
 them. The conspirators agreed to commit 
 the fiendish crimes of murder and piracy, 
 on the night of the twenty-third. The 
 murder of the master was, by agreement, 
 to Gibbs and Wansley, and that of the 
 mate to Atwell and Church. This plan 
 was carried out. 
 
 The pirates took possession of the vessel, 
 and Wansley busied himself in wiping up 
 the blood that had been sj^illed on deck, 
 declaring, with an oath, that though he 
 had heard that the stains of the blood of a 
 murdered person could not be effaced, he 
 would wipe away these. Then, after 
 drinking all round, the}'^ got up the money. 
 It was distributed in equal portions to all 
 on board; Brownrigg and Talbot being 
 
 assured that, if they would keep the secret, 
 and share the plunder, they should receive 
 no injury. 
 
 They then steered a north-easterly 
 course toward Long Island, till they came 
 within fifteen or twenty miles of South- 
 ampton light, where they resolved to leave 
 the vessel and take to the boats, though 
 the wind was blowing very hard. Atwell 
 scuttled the brig and got into the jolly- 
 boat with Church and Talbot, while 
 Gibbs, Wansley, Dawes, and Brownrigg, 
 put off in the long-boat. The jolly-boat 
 swamped on a bar two miles from the 
 shore, and all on board were drowned. 
 The long-boat was also in great danger, 
 and was onl}^ saved from a like fate by 
 throwing over several bags of specie. Nev- 
 ertheless, the crew at last got on shore at 
 Pelican Island, where they buried their 
 money, and found a sportsman who told 
 them where thej^ were. The}' then crossed 
 to Great Barn Island, and went to the 
 house of a Mr. Johnson, to whom Brown- 
 rigg gave the proper information. Thence 
 they went to the house of a Mr. Leonard, 
 where they procured a wagon to carry 
 them farther. As they were about to get 
 in, Brownrigg cried aloud that they might 
 go where they pleased, but he would not 
 accompany them, for they were murderers. 
 On hearing this, Mr. Leonard obtained the 
 presence of a magistrate, and Gibbs and 
 Dawes were apprehended. Wansley es- 
 caped into the woods, but was followed 
 and soon taken. The maritime, and 
 indeed the whole civilized world, breathed 
 freer, when the news sj^read abroad of tho 
 great pirate's capture. 
 
 The evidence of the guilt of the accused 
 was full and conclusive. Their own con- 
 fession of the crime, voluntarily made to 
 Messrs. Merritt and Stevenson, who had 
 the custody of them from Flatbush to New 
 York, could have left not the shadow of a 
 doubt on the mind of any person who heard 
 the testimony of those officers. Wansley 
 told the whole story, occasionally prompted 
 by Gibbs ; and while both admitted that 
 Brownrigg was innocent, their confession 
 was uot so favorable as to Dawes. 
 
316 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Gibbs was arraigned for the murder of 
 William Roberts, and Wansley for that of 
 Captain Thornby, and, being found guilty, 
 judgment in accordance with the law was 
 pronounced. During the trial, the iron 
 visage of Gibbs was occasionally changed 
 by a transient emotion ; he had evidently 
 abandoned all hope of escape, and sat the 
 greater part of his time with his hands 
 between his knees, calmly surveying the 
 scene before him. Wansley was more 
 agitated, and trembled visibly when he 
 rose to hear the verdict of the jury. 
 
 And now, as was to be expected, there 
 was revealed the hloody annals of Gibbs' s 
 ill-starred career. 
 
 PIRATE GIBBS. 
 
 It was in the latter part of 1813, that 
 he entered on board a ship bound to New 
 Orleans and thence to Stockholm. On the 
 homeward passage they were forced to put 
 into Bristol, England, in distress, where 
 the ship was condemned, and he proceeded 
 to Liverpool. He returned to the United 
 States in the ship Amity, Captain Max- 
 well. Shortly after his arrival home, the 
 death of an uncle put him in possession 
 of about two thousand dollars, with which 
 he established himself in the grocery busi- 
 ness in Boston, an undertaking which did 
 not prove profitable, so that he was often 
 under the necessity of applying to his 
 father for assistance, which was always 
 afforded, together with the best advice. 
 The stock was finally sold at auction, for 
 about nine hundred dollars, which he soon 
 squandered in tippling-houses and among 
 profligates. His father, hearing of his 
 dissipation, wrote affectionately to him to 
 come home, but he stubbornly refused, and 
 again turned his attention to the sea. 
 
 Sailing in the ship John, Captain Brown, 
 bound for the island of Margaretta, he 
 left the ship soon after its arrival at that 
 place, and entered on board the Colombian 
 privateer Maria, Captain Bell. They 
 cruised for about two months in the Gulf 
 of Mexico, around Cuba, but the crew 
 becoming dissatisfied in consequence of 
 the non-payment of their prize-money, a 
 mutin^^ arose, the crew took possession of 
 the schooner, and landed the officers near 
 Pensacola. A number of days elapsed 
 before it was finally decided by them what 
 course to pursue. Some advised that they 
 should cruise as before, under the Colom- 
 bian commission ; others proposed to hoist 
 the black flag. They cruised for a short 
 time without success, and it was then 
 unanimously determined to /toist the black 
 flcig, and wage war against the commerce 
 of all nations. Their bloody purpose, 
 however, was not carried into full and 
 immediate execution; for, though they 
 boarded a number of vessels, they allowed 
 them to pass unmolested, there being no 
 specie on board, and their cargoes not 
 being convertible into anything valuable 
 to themselves. 
 
 At last, one of the crew, named Anto- 
 nio, suggested that an arrangement could 
 be made with a man in Havana, that 
 would be mutually beneficial ; that he 
 would receive all their goods, sell them, 
 and divide the proceeds. This plan being 
 received favorably, they ran up within 
 two miles of Moro Castle, and sent Anto- 
 nio on shore to see the merchant and make 
 a contract with him. Previous to this, 
 Gibbs was chosen to navigate the vessel. 
 Antonio succeeded in arranging every- 
 thing according to their wishes, and Cape 
 Antonio was appointed to be the place of 
 rendezvous. The merchant was to furnish 
 facilities for transporting the goods to 
 Havana, which he did for more than three 
 years. 
 
 The Maria now put to sea, with a crew 
 of about fifty men, mostly Spaniards and 
 Americans, with every expectation of suc- 
 cess. The first vessel she fell in with was 
 the Indispensable, an English ship bound 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 3r 
 
 to Havana, which was taken and carried 
 to Ca[)e Antonio. The crew ivere imvie- 
 diatelij destroijed ; those who resisted were 
 hacked to pieces ; those who offered no 
 resistance were reserued to be shot and 
 thrown overboard. The maxim to which 
 they scrupulous!}'- adliered, was, that Ulead 
 men tell no tales.' According to Gibbs's 
 statement, he never had occasion to give 
 orders to begin the work of death. The 
 Spaniards were eager to accomplish that 
 object without delay, and generally everi/ 
 unhappij victim disappeared in a very few 
 minutes after the pirates' feet trod the 
 deck of the fated vessel. 
 
 Gibbs now directed his course towards 
 the Bahama Banks, where they captured a 
 brig, believed to be the William, of New 
 York, from some i>ort in Mexico, with a 
 cargo of furniture, destroyed the crew, took 
 the vessel to Cape Antonio, and sent the 
 furniture and other articles to their accom- 
 plice in Havana. Sometime during this 
 cruise, the pirate was chased for nearly a 
 whole day, by a United States frigate, 
 supposed to be the John Adams; he 
 hoisted patriot colors, and finally escaped. 
 In the early part of the summer of 1817, 
 they took the Earl of Moria, an English 
 ship from London, with a cargo of dry- 
 goods. The crew were destro3-ed, the 
 vessel burnt, and the goods carried to the 
 Cape ; here the pirates had a settlement 
 with their Havana agent, and the proceeds 
 were divided according to agreement. 
 Gibbs repaired personally to Havana, in- 
 troduced himself to the merchant, and 
 made arrangements for the successful pros- 
 ecution of his piracies. While there, he 
 became acquainted with many of the En- 
 glish and American naval officers, and, 
 adroitly concealing his own character and 
 calling, inquired respecting the success of 
 their various expeditions for the suppres- 
 sion of piracy, and all their intended 
 movements ! 
 
 On the return to Cape Antonio, Gibbs 
 found his comrades in a state of mutiny 
 and rebellion, and that several of them had 
 been killed. His energy checked the dis- 
 turbance, and all agreed to submit to his 
 
 oi'ders, and put any one to death who 
 should dare to disobey them. 
 
 During the cruise which was made in 
 the latter part of 1817 and the beginning 
 of 1818, a Dutch shii) from Curacoa was 
 captured, with a cargo of West India 
 goods, and a quantity of silver plate. The 
 passengers and crew, to the number of 
 thirty, were all killed, ^vith the exception 
 of a young and beatitiful female, about 
 seventeen, who, in the midst of the awful 
 scene of death-blows and shrieks and man- 
 gled corpses, kneeled upon the gory deck, 
 and ])iteoiisly imj^lored Gibbs to save her 
 life! The appeal was successful; and he 
 promised to save her, though he knew it 
 would lead to dangerous consequences 
 among his crew. She was carried to Cape 
 Antonio, and kept there about two months ; 
 but the dissatisfaction increased until it 
 broke out at last into open mutiny, and 
 one of the pirates was shot by Gibbs for 
 daring to lay hold of her with a view to 
 beating out her brains. Gibbs was com- 
 pelled, however, in the end, to submit her 
 fate to a council of war, at which it was 
 decided that the preservation of their own 
 lives made her sacrifice indispensable. He 
 therefore acquiesced in the decision, and 
 gave orders to have her destroyed by 
 poison, which was immediately adminis- 
 tered to her, and thus the young, beautiful, 
 and unfortunate creature was launched 
 itito the other world. 
 
 Shortly after this, the piratical schooner 
 was driven ashore near the Cape, and so 
 much damaged that it was found necessary 
 to destroy her. A new, sharp-built 
 schooner was in consequence provided by 
 their faithful ally in Havana, called the 
 Picciana, and dispatched to their rendez- 
 vous. 
 
 In this vessel, they cruised successfully 
 for more than four years. Among the 
 vessels taken and destroyed — and their 
 crews and passengers remorselessly hurried 
 into eternity — were the Belvidere, Dido, a 
 Dutch brig, the British barque Larch, and 
 many others. 
 
 Gibbs further stated that he had been 
 concerned in robbing forty different ves- 
 
318 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 GIBBS BUTCHERING THE CREW OF ONE OF HIS PRIZES. 
 
 aels. He gave the names of upwards of a 
 score of vessels taken by the pirates under 
 his command, the crews of which had been 
 murdered. 
 
 Sometime in the course of the year 
 1819, Gibbs left Havana for the United 
 States, carrying with him about thirty 
 thousand dollars. He passed several 
 weeks in New York, and then went to 
 Boston, whence he took passage for Liver- 
 pool, in the ship Emerald. Before he 
 sailed, however, he had squandered a large 
 part of his money in dissipation and gam- 
 bling. He remained in Liverpool a few 
 months, and then returned to Boston in 
 the ship Topaz. His residence in Liver- 
 
 pool, at that time, was testified to by a. 
 female in New York, who was well 
 acquainted with him there, and where, as 
 she stated, he lived like a wealthy gentle- 
 man. In speaking of his acquaintance 
 with this female, Gibbs said : 
 
 " I fell in with a woman, who, I thought, 
 was all virtue, but she deceived me, and I 
 am sorry to say that a heart that never 
 felt abashed at scenes of carnage and 
 blood, was made a child of, for a time, by 
 her, and I gave way to dissipation and 
 torment. How often, when the fumes of 
 liquor have subsided, have I thought of 
 my good and affectionate parents, and of 
 their godly advice ! But when the little' 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 319 
 
 monitor began tomovo within inc, I iiiiiue- 
 diately seized tlie cii[t to liiile uiysell" from 
 myself, and drank until the sense of intoxi- 
 cation was renewed. My friends advised 
 me to behave like a man, and promised me 
 their assistance, but the demon still 
 haunted me, and I spurned their advice." 
 
 He readily admitted his participation in 
 the Vineyard mutiny, revolt and robber3^, 
 and in tlio murder of Thornby ; and, so 
 impressed was he with the universal detes- 
 tation and horror which his heinous crimes 
 had excited against him, that he often 
 inquired if he should not be murdered in 
 the streets, in case he had his liberty, and 
 was recognized. He would also frequently 
 exclaim, " Oh, if I had got into Algiers, 
 I should never have been in this prison, 
 to he Ming for murder ! " 
 
 Though he gave no evidence of contri- 
 tion for the 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 iiistantly 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 murders. 
 
 On Friday, April twenty-second, 1831, 
 
 Gibbs and Wansley 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, everythijig 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 forgiveness — 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 ni}^ bosom room to imagine 
 that the spectators now assembled had 
 forgiven me, the scaffold Avould 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 Wansley, the 
 officers and clergymen, the caps were then 
 drawn over the faces of the two criminals, 
 and a handkerchief dropped by Gibbs as a 
 signal to the executioner caused the cord 
 to be severed, and in an instant they were 
 suspended in air. Wansley expired with 
 only a few slight struggles. Gibbs died 
 hard. 
 
XXXV. 
 
 NULLIFICATION OUTBREAK IN SOUTH CAROLINA, 
 
 UNDER THE LEAD OF CALHOUN, McDUFFIE, 
 
 HAYNE, AND OTHERS.— 1832. 
 
 State Sovereignty, Instead of the Federal Government, Claimed by them to be Supreme. — The Wrath 
 of President Jackson Aroused. — His Stern and Heroic Will Upholds the National Authority and 
 Saves the Union from Anarchy and from the Perils of Dismemberment. — Momentous Nature of 
 this Contest. — The Tariff a Rock of Offense. — Action in the " Palmetto " State.— Anti-National 
 and Defiant.— Pacific Proposals Scouted. — A Political Dinner in Washington. — Jackson's and Cal- 
 houn's Toasts. — Plan of the Conspirators. — A Bombshell in Their Camp. — Convention of Agitators 
 in Columbia — Nullification Ordinance Passed. — " Old Hickory " Bold and Resolute. — His Peremp- 
 tory Proclamation. — South Carolina's Counter-Blast. — United States Troops Sent to Charleston. — 
 Presidential Idea of Compromising. — Clay's Conciliation Scheme. — The Leading Nullifiers in 
 Danger.— Jackson Threatens to Hang Them. — They are Roused from Bed at Midnight. — Two 
 Alternatives Presented. — Swallowing a Bitter Pill. 
 
 " Tlioii too. sail on, O ehip of State,— 
 Sail on. O I y lo.v. strirn^j and great; 
 Ihiiniji'iiy. with all iis fears. 
 Wjth all iic hoper. of future years. 
 Is hanging breathless on thy fate I" 
 
 
 ^ i?^ 
 
 
 FAVOltlTK 8TATK KM Pil.I M, S. C. 
 
 ITTEE, and momentous was the political contest 
 which shook the Union to its very center in 1832, the 
 year in which cuhninated, in all its violence, the 
 South Carolina doctrine of State Rights and Nullifi- 
 cation. In a general, j)reliminary way, the nature or 
 origin of this great sectional conflict presents itself 
 thus : A powerful party in South Carolina, led on by 
 able and ambitious politicians, contended that con- 
 gress had no power to impose taxes for protecting 
 home industry or manufactures, but solely for pur- 
 poses of revenue, sufficient to defray the expenses of 
 the government ; that each state had a right to judge 
 whether congress, in its legislation, exceeded its powers, 
 and in that case to disobey it, — treat it as of no binding 
 They therefore declared the tariff which passed into 
 ;ion at the close of the session of 1832, to be null and 
 making it unlawful for any of the constituted authorities 
 to enforce it; and disallowing all appeal to the supreme court. 
 Any act which might be passed by congress to coerce them into 
 obedience, they would consider as dissolving them from the 
 obligation to maintain the Union, and they would proceed to 
 organize a separate government. These views were supported 
 by their legislature, and vehemently advocated by Calhoun and 
 McDuffie at Washington, — two of the most celebrated leaders in 
 public affairs, who have ever appeared in American history. 
 Their scheme, however, of defying the national government, on 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 321 
 
 the assumption of" the sovereignty of the 
 states as principals, and tlie subordination 
 of tlie federal government as a mere 
 agency, found a mortal enemy in Andrew 
 Jackson, wliO; at the very time chosen by 
 the sectionalists, or nullitiers, to put their 
 doctrine into practice, was chief magistrate 
 of the nation. 
 
 But, though the climax of these anti- 
 national proceedings was not reached until 
 this period, the great leaders had for years 
 been sowing the seeds of contempt for 
 federal authority and the constitution and 
 Union from which that authority was de- 
 rived, and, in doing this, even went so far 
 as to claim that the fathers of the republic, 
 especially Mr. Jetferson, held and taught 
 the same principle. Of these tactics, Mr. 
 Benton gives a notable example, in his 
 account of the anniversary of Mr. Jeffer- 
 son's birthday, April thirteenth, 1830, 
 celebrated by a numerous company, that 
 year, in the city of Washington ; Mr. 
 Benton's account agreeing, in every ma- 
 terial j)oint, with that furnished by other 
 pens, as follows : 
 
 It was the birthday of Thomas Jeffer- 
 son, and those who attended the party did 
 so avowedly for the purpose of honoring 
 the memory of the author of the Declar- 
 ation of Independence. Such at least Avas 
 the tenor of the invitation. Andrew Jack- 
 son, the president of the United States, 
 was there. So was John C. Calhoun, the 
 vice-president. Three of the cabinet min- 
 isters, namely. Van Buren, Eaton, and 
 Branch, were there ; and members of con- 
 gress and citizens not a few. 
 
 It soon became manifest to the more 
 sagacious ones, that this dinner party and 
 the day were to be made the occasion for 
 inaugurating the new doctrine of nullifi- 
 cation, and to fix the paternity of it on 
 Mr. Jefferson, the great apostle of democ- 
 racy in America. Many gentlemen pres- 
 ent, perceiving the drift of the whole per- 
 formance, withdrew in disgust before sum- 
 moned to the table ; but the sturdy old 
 president, perfectly informed, remained. 
 
 When the dinner was over and the cloth 
 removed, a call was made for the regular 
 21 
 
 toasts. These were twenty-four in num- 
 ber, eighteen of which, it is alleged, were 
 written by Mr. Calhoun. These, in multi- 
 farious forms, shadowed forth, now dimly, 
 now clearly, the new doctrine. They 
 were all received and honored in various 
 degrees, when volunteer toasts were an- 
 nounced as in order. 
 
 The president of the United States was 
 of course first called upon for a sentiment. 
 His tall form rose majestically, and with 
 that sternness approj^riate to the peculiar 
 occasion, he cast that apalling bomb-shell 
 of words into the camp of the consjiira- 
 tors, which will forever be a theme for 
 the commendation of the patriot and the 
 historian — "The Federal Union: it 
 MUST BE Preserved ! " He was fol- 
 lowed by the vice-president, Mr. Calhoun, 
 who gave as his sentiment — " The Union : 
 next to oar Liberty the most dear ; may 
 we all remember that it can only be pre- 
 served by respecting the rights of the 
 States, and distributing equally the benefit 
 and burden of the Union ! " Those who 
 before doubted the intentions of Calhoun 
 and his southern friends, and were at a 
 loss to understand the exact meaning of 
 the dinner party, were no longer embar- 
 rassed by ignorance. In that toast was 
 presented the issue — ^liberty before union 
 — supreme state sovereignty — false com- 
 plaints of inequality of benefits and bur- 
 dens — ' our rights ' as we choose to define 
 them, or disunion. From that hour, there- 
 fore, the vigilant old president watched the 
 South Carolina conspirator, his lieutenant, 
 with the searching eyes of unslumbering 
 suspicion. 
 
 But the opposition of South Carolina 
 to a protective tariff dated farther back 
 than this. In 1820, and again in 1825, 
 the legislature of that state protested 
 against all such congressional measures, 
 and in 1827 instructed her representatives 
 at AVashington to maintain these views, 
 to the fullest extent, on the floor of con- 
 gress. The next year, she entered a for- 
 mal protest and resolutions against any 
 right of congress to impose protective 
 duties on imported goods. More resolu- 
 
322 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 tions, addressed to other states, followed 
 in December, 1828, and in 1830 the state 
 legislature most forcibly reaffirmed the 
 doctrines to which it had previously given 
 such emphatic expression. In fact, the 
 people had been worked by their leaders 
 into a temporary frenzy. 
 
 In an exhaustive, as well as most vivid 
 and truthful review of the events per- 
 taining to this exciting period in national 
 affairs, a writer in the New Monthly 
 Magazine has contributed one of the most 
 thrilling chapters to be found in American 
 history. From that source the following 
 abridged narrative is derived for the most 
 part : 
 
 A prominent issue in the presidential 
 election of 1832 was that of the protective 
 tariff, otherwise known as the American 
 System. South Carolina had virtually 
 threatened to secede from the Union unless 
 
 appointed. She refused to take an honest 
 part in the presidential election, giving 
 her votes for citizens who were not candi- 
 dates. She had resolved — or rather the 
 conspirators had resolved for her — not to 
 be pacified with anything less than federal 
 dismemberment ! 
 
 Jackson, the chosen standard-bearer of 
 the democratic party, and to which organ- 
 ization the conspirators professedly be- 
 longed, was re-elected ; yet the malcon- 
 tents continued to defy the government, 
 and exhibited the falsity of their profes- 
 sions of attachment to that party b^'^ im- 
 mediately, when the result of the election 
 was known, calling a convention of the 
 delegates of the people of South Carolina, 
 at Columbia, their state capital, for a 
 rebellious purpose. 
 
 In that convention, composed of poli- 
 ticians, the professed representatives of 
 
 OLD STATE HOUSE AT COLUMBIA. 
 
 the policy of that s^'stem should be aban- 
 doned b}' the government. A nervous 
 apprehension of some dire impending ca- 
 lamity appears to have taken possession of 
 the public mind, and the congressional 
 elections resulted unfavorably to the sys- 
 tem. Those who loved j)eace in the 
 national household fondly expected now 
 to see the smile of satisfaction on the face 
 of South Carolina. But they were dis- 
 
 the people took into their own hands 
 violent instrumentalities for the redress of 
 alleged grievances, which the chief con- 
 spirators had prescribed. Just a fortnight 
 after the election, November 24, 1832, 
 which really decided the fate of the Ameri- 
 can System, they sent forth from that 
 convention an Ordinance of Nullification 
 against it, its title being, " An ordinance 
 to nullify certain acts of the Congress of 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 323 
 
 the United States, purporting to be laws 
 laying duties and imposts on the im- 
 portation of foreign commodities." Mr. 
 Hayne, recently senator in congress, was 
 president of that convention, and chair- 
 man of the committee of twenty-one who 
 reported the ordinance of nullitication. 
 A fortnight after this labor was per- 
 formed, the legislature of South Carolina, 
 made up chiefly of Calhoun's and McDuf- 
 fie's disciples, evinced their sympathy with 
 Hayne's course by electing him governor 
 of that commonwealth. 
 
 The ordinance of nullification forbade 
 all constituted authorities, state or na- 
 tional, within the boundaries of South 
 Carolina, to enforce the payment of duties 
 imposed by the tariff laws, and disallowed 
 any appeal, by residents of the state, to 
 the United States supreme court. It was 
 also ordained that all public officers should 
 take an oath to obey that ordinance on 
 penalty of forfeiture of office. A military 
 spirit everywhere prevailed. The blue 
 cockade with the Palmetto button, was 
 almost universally worn. 
 
 Having thus bound the people of the 
 state hand and foot, the conspirators de- 
 fiantly declared that they would not sub- 
 mit to coercion by the United States, and 
 that they should consider the passage by 
 congress of any act declaring the ports of 
 that state abolished or closed, or in any 
 way interfering with their commerce as 
 " inconsistent with the longer continuance 
 of South Carolina in the Union ; " and 
 that the people of the state would hence- 
 forth " hold themselves absolved from all 
 further obligation to maintain or preserve 
 their political connection with the people of 
 the other states," and would proceed forth- 
 with to "organize a separate government, 
 and do all other acts and things which sov- 
 ereign and independent states may of right 
 do." The ordinance was to take effect on 
 the first day of February ensuing after its 
 passage. It was signed by more than one 
 hundred leading citizens of South Carolina, 
 and thus officially communicated to the 
 president of the United States. The state 
 of affairs threatened a fatal crisis. 
 
 Fortunately for the country, there was 
 a man at the head of the government 
 whose patriotism and courage had never 
 been found wanting. It was eqvxal to this 
 emergency ! 
 
 South Carolina, through her unscrupu- 
 lous politicians, had been placed in the 
 attitude of open, forcible resistance to the 
 laws of the United States, Avhich the 
 president had solemnly sworn to execute. 
 Andrew Jackson was not a man to be 
 trifled with. He quickly perceived his 
 duty, and as quickly hastened to the per- 
 formance of it. The ordinance of nulli- 
 fication reached him on the 1st of De- 
 cember. On the tenth of the same month 
 he issued a proclamation, kind but firm, 
 persuasive but admonitory, in which he 
 denounced the pernicious doctrine of state 
 supremacy, and warned the people of 
 South Carolina that they had been de- 
 ceived by demagogues. " Eloquent appeals 
 to your passions, to your state pride, to 
 your native courage, to your sense of real 
 injury," he said, " were used to prepare 
 you for the period when the mask, which 
 concealed the hidden features of disunion, 
 should be taken off. It fell, and you were 
 made to look with complacency on objects 
 which, not long since, you would have re- 
 garded with horror." Thus, perfectly 
 self-poised and unterrified, he reasoned 
 fraternally with them. 
 
 In patriotic language he also appealed 
 to the misguided people to snatch from the 
 archives of their state the disorganizing 
 edict of its convention; "bid its members 
 to reassemble, and promulgate the de- 
 cided expression of your will to remain in 
 the path which alone can conduct you to 
 safety, prosperity, and honor. Tell them 
 that, compared with disunion, all other 
 evils are light, because that brings with it 
 an accumulation of all. Declare that you 
 will never take the field unless the star- 
 spangled banner of your country shall 
 float over j-ou ; that you will not be stig- 
 matized, when dead, and dishonored and 
 scorned while you live, as the authors of 
 the first attack on the constitution of your 
 country. Its destroyers you cannot be. 
 
324 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 You may disturb its peace ; 3-ou may in- 
 terrupt the course of its prosperity ; 3'ou 
 may cloud its rei^utation for stability ; but 
 its tranquillity will be restored, its pros- 
 perity will return, and the stains upon its 
 national character will be transferred and 
 remain an eternal blot on the memory of 
 those who caused the disorder." No 
 presidential document ever caused so pro- 
 found a sensation, not even that concern- 
 ing the transfer of the government de- 
 posits from the old United States bank 
 to various local banks, under Secretary 
 Taney, the successor of Duane, — an act 
 which nothing less than Jackson's im- 
 mense personal popularity could survive. 
 Meanwhile, Governor Hayne had called 
 
 the South Carolina legislature together, to 
 take measures for enforcing the ordinance 
 of nullification. They authorized the gov- 
 ernor to call out the militia of the state 
 for the purpose, and ordered the purchase 
 of ten thousand stand of arms, and a 
 requisite quantity of equipments and muni- 
 tions of war. The feelings of the poli- 
 ticians of other states were consulted. 
 Those of Virginia, Georgia, and Ala- 
 bama approved of the action of the " Pal- 
 metto State," and gave assurance that, in 
 the event of secession, those states would 
 join her in forming a southern confederacy. 
 But North Carolina refused her assent to 
 any such scheme. Governor Hayne, how- 
 
 ever, issued his counter-proclamation, de- 
 nouncing the attitude of the general 
 government towards the state of South 
 Carolina, and threatening to resist to the 
 last extremity. Hayne Avas of the same 
 political stripe, in his day, as Floyd, 
 Jacob Thompson, General Quitman, and 
 the host of lesser marplots in congress, of 
 a later era. 
 
 The time for action had now arrived, 
 and Calhoun resigned the vice-presidency 
 and took his seat in the senate of the 
 United States, where he might do battle 
 for disunion more potently. The presi- 
 dent had resolved to arrest him on his 
 arrival at Washington, have him tried for 
 high treason, and hung if found guilty. 
 But the great southern chieftain walked 
 in, slowly and deliberately, to the crowded 
 senate, and, with reverential manner, and 
 in a serious, solemn, and audible voice, 
 took the oath to supj^ort the Constitution 
 of the United States. Perhaps, at this 
 moment, the prediction of Dr. Timothy 
 Dwight that he, Calhoun, would one day 
 be president of the nation, flashed across 
 the mind of the ambitious southron. 
 
 This contemplated arrest, in the then 
 condition of public feeling in the southern 
 states, might have been, if carried out, a 
 mo.st pernicious stejJ ; one that would have 
 kindled the flames of civil war instantly. 
 Webster and others persuaded Jackson 
 not to adopt that extreme measure, but 
 to endeavor to win back the deluded 
 people. The proclamation already men- 
 tioned, followed; and, on the assembling 
 of congress, President Jackson, in his 
 annual message, called attention to the 
 attitude of South Carolina, and asked for 
 co-operation in suppressing the rising 
 rebellion. He had already taken pre- 
 cautionary measures. Quite a large body 
 of troops, under General Scott, were 
 stealthily thrown into Fort Moultrie in 
 Charleston harbor, and a sloop of war was 
 sent to the same waters to protect the 
 national officers of customs, if necessary, 
 in the performance of their duties. 
 
 Before the inhabitants of Charleston 
 were aware that the president would re- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 325 
 
 sort to force in the maintenance of tlie 
 laws, the national troops were before their 
 faces, and the guns of Fort Moultrie were 
 silently but udnionishingly telling them 
 to be careful not to interfere with tlie busi- 
 ness of the United States custom-house ! 
 
 The president had declared, in substance, 
 in his message, that his [xilicy would be a 
 peaceful one towards the rebellious state, 
 so long as peaceful measures promised to 
 be effectual ; but in the event of per- 
 sistent contumac}^, he was prepared to 
 force South Carolina into submission. 
 This determination of the government, 
 the presence of General Scott with a 
 competent force, and the sloop-of-war in 
 the harbor, caused a material abatement 
 of rebellious zeal in the metropolis of the 
 turbulent state, and it became evident to 
 the leaders there that South Carolina would 
 not be permitted to sever the bond that 
 bound her to the Union. Her famous 
 ordinance was not enforced ; the revenues 
 were regularly collected ; and the national 
 laws continued to be executed without 
 interruption. Such being the case, the 
 conspirators in the convention, illy conceal- 
 ing their mortification after such a dis- 
 play of arrogance, resolved to postpone 
 their intended forcible resistance until the 
 first of February. 
 
 On the very first day of the session of 
 congress, bills for the reduction of the 
 tariff were introduced. One reported by 
 Mr. Verplanck, from the committee of 
 ways and means, was very favorably re- 
 ceived, especially by those who wished 
 to conciliate the radical opponents of the 
 tariff, of the South Carolina school. But 
 long debates followed, and February, as 
 well as the session of congress, was draw- 
 ing to a close, when, to the astonishment 
 of everj'^body, Mr. Letcher, a representa- 
 tive from Kentucky, and an ardent friend 
 of Mr. Clay, rose in his place and moved 
 to strike out every word of the bill except 
 the enacting clause, and insert in lieu 
 of it a bill introduced in the senate by 
 Mr. Clay, which has since been called the 
 ' compromise bill.' It was a formal aban- 
 donment of the American system, and 
 
 confessedly a measure to heal disaffection 
 and save the Union. It proposed a 
 gradual reduction of the tariff in the 
 course of ten years, in such a way that all 
 interests would be unharmed. This com- 
 promise bill ultimately passed, and the 
 weapons of disunion were for a time 
 foiled, as well as Calhoun's mad ambition. 
 
 Of the secret history of this remarkable 
 measure, in the passage of which Clay 
 and Calhoun appeared to be in coalition, 
 Mr. Benton has given a most interesting 
 explanation, substantially as follows : 
 
 The relative position of the national 
 government and South Carolina, and of 
 the president of the United States and 
 Mr. Calhoun, in the winter of 1833, 
 placed the latter in great personal peril, 
 which his friends perceived and tried to 
 avert. Among others consulted on the 
 subject by them, was Letcher, of Ken- 
 tucky, Clay's warm personal friend. He 
 knew tliat South Carolina must yield, on 
 some terms, to the authority and power of 
 the national government, and he conceived 
 the idea of a compromise by which, in so 
 yielding, she might preserve her dignity. 
 He proposed it to Mr. Clay, who, sincerely 
 desiring reconciliation, entertained the 
 idea, and submitted it to Webster. The 
 amazing intellectual plummet of the latter 
 had fathomed the turbid waters of nullifi- 
 cation far deeper than had the brilliant 
 Kentuckian. and he instantly answered — 
 *" No ! It will be yielding great prin- 
 ciples to faction. The time has come to 
 test the strength of the constitution and 
 tlie f/ov eminent P 
 
 Mr. Webster had heartily supported the 
 force bill reported by Mr. Wilkins from the 
 judiciary committee. Although opposed, 
 politically, to Jackson's administration, he 
 had said that he believed an unlawful com- 
 bination was threatening the integrity of 
 the Union, and that he should give the 
 administration a frank and hearty sup- 
 port, in all just measures for dealing 
 firmly with the crisis. He was utterly 
 opposed to compromising and temporizing 
 measures with a rebellious faction, and 
 told Mr. Clay so ; and from that time he 
 
326 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 was not approached by those wlio were 
 willing to shield conspirators from the 
 sword of justice. 
 
 Mr. Clay drew up a compromise bill and 
 sent it to Mr. Calhoun by Mr. Letcher. 
 Calhoun objected to i:)arts of the bill most 
 emphatically, and remarked that if Clay 
 knew the nature of his objections, he 
 would at least modify those portions of 
 the bill. Letcher made arrangements for 
 a personal interview between these eminent 
 
 Letcher now flew to McDuflfie, Calhoun's 
 ardent friend and chief coadjutor, and 
 alarmed him with a startling picture of the 
 president's wrath. That night, after he 
 had retired to bed, Letcher was aroused 
 by a Louisiana senator, Josiah S. John- 
 son, who informed him that Jackson would 
 not allow any more dela}', and that Cal- 
 houn's arrest might take place an}' hour. 
 He begged Letcher to warn Calhoun of 
 his danger. He did so. He found the 
 
 senators, who had not been on speaking 
 terms for some time. The imperious Clay 
 demanded that it should be at his own 
 room. The imperiled Calhoun consented 
 to go there. The meeting was civil, but 
 icy. The business was immediately en- 
 tered upon. The principals were unyield- 
 ing, and the conference ended without 
 results. Letcher now hastened to the 
 president, and sounded Idm on compro- 
 mising. 
 
 " Compromise ! " said the stern old man, 
 " I will make no compromise with traitors. 
 I will have no negotiations. I will execute 
 the laws. Calhoun shall be tried for 
 treason, and hanged if found guilty, if he 
 does not instantly cease his rebellious 
 
 course. 
 
 ?> 
 
 South Carolinian in bed. He told him of 
 the temper and intentions of the president, 
 and the conspirator was much alarmed. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Clay and J. M. Clay- 
 ton of Delaware had been in frequent 
 consultations on the subject. Clayton 
 had said to Clay, while his bill was linger- 
 ing in the house, "These South Caro- 
 linians act very badl}', but they are good 
 fellows, and it is a pity to let Jackson 
 hang them ; " and advised him to get his 
 bill referred to a new committee, and so 
 modify it as to make it acceptable to a 
 majority. Clay did so, and Clayton ex- 
 erted all his influence to avert the ca- 
 lamit}' which hung over Calhoun and his 
 friends. He assembled the manufacturers 
 who had hurried to the capital when they 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 327 
 
 liad heard of the compromise bill, to see 
 ■whether the}' would not yield something, 
 for the sake of conciliation and the Union. 
 At a sacrifice of their interests, these 
 loyal men did yield, and agreed to with- 
 draw all opposition to the bill, and let it 
 pass the senate, providing all the nuUifiers 
 should vote for certain amendments made 
 by the lower house, as well as the bill 
 itself. The nullitiers in committee would 
 not yield. The crisis had arrived. The 
 gallows tvas i^laced before Calhouji's eyes. 
 Clayton earnestly remonstrated with him. 
 He pointed out the danger, the folly, the 
 wickedness of his course ; and notified 
 him that unless the amendments were 
 adopted, and that by the votes of himself 
 and political friends, the bill should not 
 pass ; that he, Clayton, would move to lay 
 it on the table when it should be reported 
 to the senate, and he had strength enough 
 there pledged to do it. " The president 
 will then," he said, "be left free to ex- 
 ecute the laws in full rigor." His object, 
 he told them plainly, was to put them 
 squarely on the record ; to make all the 
 nullifiers vote for the amendments and the 
 l)ill, and thus cut them off from the plea of 
 " unconstitutionality," which they would 
 raise if the bill and amendments did not 
 receive their votes. Unless they were so 
 liound, he knew that the present pacifica- 
 tion would be only a hollow truce, and 
 that they would make this very measure, 
 probably, a pretense for renewing their 
 resistance to what they were pleased to 
 call " unconstitutional measures " of the 
 national government, and for resuming 
 their march toward secession and inde- 
 pendence. He was peremptory with both 
 Clay and Calhoun, and warned them that 
 this was the last chance for compromise. 
 Mr. Clayton was inexorable. Clay and 
 Calhoun agreed to the amendments. These 
 with the bill were reported to the senate. 
 All the nullifiers voted for the amendments 
 in order, until they came to the last, that 
 of home valuation, which was so revolting 
 to the great leader of the conspirators. 
 "When that came up, Calhoun and his 
 friends met it with the most violent op- 
 
 position. It was the last day but one of 
 the session, and a late hour in the day. 
 Finding the nullifiers persistent in their 
 opposition, Clayton, to their great con- 
 sternation, suddenly executed his threat. 
 He moved to lay the bill on the table, and 
 declared it should continue to lie there. 
 Mr. Clay begged him to withdraw his 
 motion. Others enti'eated him to give a 
 little more time. He was indexible. 
 There was fluttering in the bevy of nulli- 
 fiers. Calhoun and his friends retired 
 behind the colonnade back of the presi- 
 ding ofiicer's chair, and there held a 
 brief consultation. It was very brief, for 
 time and 0])portunity were precious. Sena- 
 tor Bibb came from the trembling con- 
 clave and asked Clayton to give a little 
 more time. This was a token of yielding, 
 and he complied. He withdrew his 
 motion, but with the declaration that 
 unless the measure, in full, was voted for 
 by all the nullifiers, he should renew it. 
 Instantly one of their friends moved an 
 adjournment, and it was carried. A little 
 time brought them to the conclusion to 
 vote as Mr. Claj'ton demanded, but begged 
 that gentleman to spare Mr. Calhoun the 
 mortification of appearing on the record 
 in favor of a measure against which, at 
 that A'ery time, and at his instance, troops 
 were being raised in South Carolina, and 
 because of which the politicians of that 
 state were preparing to declare her seces- 
 sion from the Union ! Mr. Clayton would 
 not yield a jot. Calhoun was the chief of 
 sinners in this matter, and he, of all 
 others, must give the w^orld public and 
 recorded evidence of penitence, wdiatever 
 his " mental reservations " might be. 
 "Nothing would be secured," Mr. Claj'ton 
 said, "unless his vote appears in favor of 
 the measure." 
 
 The senate met ; the bill was taken up ; 
 and the nullifiers and their friends, one 
 after another, yielded their objections on 
 various pretenses. At length, when all 
 had voted but Mr. Calhoun, he arose, pale 
 and haggard, for he had had a most ter- 
 rible struggle. He declared that he had 
 then to determine w-hich way he should 
 
328 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 vote, and at the termination of liis brief 
 remarks he gave his voice in the affirma- 
 tive with the rest. It was a bitter pill for 
 that proud man to swallow. The alterna- 
 tive presented to him was absolute humilia- 
 tion or the gallows. He chose the former. 
 With that act fell the great conspiracy to 
 break up the government of the United 
 States in 1832. The violent clamors 
 raised in South Carolina and the Gulf 
 States on the appearance of Jackson's 
 proclamation soon ceased, and the ordi- 
 nance of nullification was repealed. 
 
 To Jackson's heroic will and unfaltering 
 purpo-e was the result due. Thv;s, when 
 the nullification frenzy was at its height, 
 the Union men in Charleston sent a 
 
 deputation to Washington, to inform the 
 president that they were daily threatened 
 with an outbreak, and did not consider 
 their lives safe. Scarcely waiting to hear 
 the words uttered, the general sprung to 
 his feet, and with a voice and a look of 
 almost superhuman energy, exclaimed — 
 
 " The lives of Union men not safe, 
 while Andrew Jackson is president ! Go 
 back to Charleston, and tell the nullifiers 
 that if a hair on the head of a Union man 
 is harmed, that moment I order General 
 Coffee to march on Carolina with fifty 
 thousand Tennessee volunteers, and if that 
 does not settle the business, tell them — 
 by the Eternal! — that I will take the field 
 myself, with fifty thousand more ! " 
 
XXXVI. 
 
 SUBLIME METEORIC SHOWER ALL OYER 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 tlie Falling Bodies — Tiieir Intense Heat, Vivid Colors, and Strange, Glowing Beauty. — 
 Unequaled in Every Respect. — Cloudless Serenity of the Sky. — The People 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-Balis. — Tiie 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 Bodies. — 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 sanguine flood 
 Rolled a broad slaughter o'er the plains of heaven, 
 And nature's self did seem to tolter on the brink of time." 
 
 lOUS 
 
 Extensive and magnificent showers of shooting stars have been known 
 
 laces in modern times ; but the most universal and 
 ^ wonderful which has ever been recorded is that 
 of the thirteenth of November, 1833, the ichole 
 firmament, over all the United States, being 
 then, for hours, in fiery commotion ! No celestial 
 phenomenon has ever occurred in this countrj^, since 
 its first settlement, which was viewed with such in- 
 tense admiration b}^ one class in the community, or 
 with so much dread and alarm by another. It was 
 the all-engrossing theme of conversation and of 
 scientific 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 
 sublimit}^ and awful beaut}^ 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- 
 
 
 METEORIC SHOWER AT BOSTON. 
 
330 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ti nuance, the day of judgment was be- 
 lieved to be only 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, tliough in many districts the mass 
 of the poj)ulation 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 
 apocaly[)tic 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 diflScult 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, tJie tvltole heavens seemed i)i 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 Mexico, 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 tivo liundred and forty thou- 
 sand meteors were at the same time visible 
 above the horizon of Bostoyi ! 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 exj^loding before the}- 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 j)ar- 
 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 roarinr/ catarart ! 
 
 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- 
 
GREAT AND MEM0HA13LE EVENTS. 
 
 oo^ 
 
 GO. 
 
 ets. On more attentive inspection, it was 
 seen that the meteors exhibited three dis- 
 tinct varieties, as follows, described by Dr. 
 Olmsted :— 
 
 First, those consisting of phosphoric 
 lines, apparently described by a point. 
 This A'ariety was tlie most numerous, 
 every-where filling the atmos})here, and 
 resembling a shower of fiery 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 half an 
 hour or more. This hind appeared more 
 like falling stars, giving to many persons 
 the verj' 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 the}' 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 by various observers — that shot 
 off in the north-west direction, and ex- 
 ploded a little northward of the star 
 Capella, left, just behind the place of 
 explosion, a phosphorescent train of pecu- 
 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 wp, 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 very brilliant, in the 
 form of a pruning-hook, and apparently 
 twenty feet long and eighteen inches 
 
 METEOKIC SHOWER AS SKEH AT KIAGAKA FALLS. 
 
 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 
 
332 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 light. At Charleston, S. C, a meteor of 
 extraordiuarj'' size was seen to course the 
 heavens for a great length of time, and 
 then Avas heard to explode with the noise 
 of a cannon. 
 
 The point from which the meteors 
 seemed to issue, was observed, by those 
 wlio 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 stationary 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 
 imaginary. 
 
 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 
 intensity. 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 uncommonly 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 May, 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 from the fact 
 that they were stopped by the air. Had 
 their quantity of matter been considerable, 
 with so prodigious a velocity, they would 
 have had a sufficient momentum to enable 
 them to reach the earth, and the most dis- 
 astrous consequences 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 only to 
 those immeasurable degrees of heat pro- 
 duced in the laboratory of the chemist, 
 before which the most refractory sub- 
 stances are melted, and even dissipated in 
 vapor. 
 
 Some of the lai-ger 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 333 
 
 distance of eleven miles, its diameter was 
 five luuulred 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 conseqiience 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, 
 iind 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, jjrecisely 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 
 Jupiter 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 unexjilained 
 natural appearances — electricity — has no 
 known jiroperties 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 is 
 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 sky, 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 by some to appear during the 
 meteoric phenomenon, especially in the 
 position of the apparent center or radiant- 
 point, which wa.s, as noticed, by many 
 observers, verj' nearly in the place towards 
 Avhich the dipping-needle is directed. 
 
334 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 REMARKABLE METEORIC DISPLAY ON THE MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 From other observations, however, it 
 ai»pears that the radiant-point was not 
 stationary witli respect to the meridian, 
 hut accompanied tlie stars in tlieir 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, namel}^, 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 the 
 earth — at least two hours, — a period suffi- 
 cient to have carried it nearly round the 
 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 its 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 335 
 
 wide range, it lasted nnicli longer, — the 
 eartli moved in its orbit through tlie space 
 of nearly live hundred and fifty thousand 
 miles. 
 
 In connection with the account of this 
 meteoric showei", mention may be made of 
 a remarkable light, seen in the east at the 
 time of tliat 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 theory, would 
 occup3'. Hence it Avas conjectured, that 
 this luminous appearance 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, 
 namel}'', the direful effects Avhich 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 by the descent to the earth of 
 bodies of such magnitude, glowing with 
 the most intense heat. Half the continent 
 must have been involved in one common 
 destruction ! 
 
 One of the most interesting facts per- 
 taining to this grand celestial phenomenon, 
 is its periodical character. Between the 
 years 903 and 1833, of the 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 
 ejDoch 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 phenomenon 
 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, ])erhaps, in grandeur of 
 demonstration to that of November, 1833, 
 which latter stands solitaiy in its unsur- 
 [)assed 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 scarcel}' 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 rapidly, however, was plainly evident; 
 for, from all points where the mass oi 
 clouds Avas thin, occasional meteors flashed 
 out, and the frequent lighting up of the 
 clouds, as they passed over, left no doubt 
 that the mysterious phenomenon was 
 having full play in the regions beyond. 
 
 At ten minutes before four o'clock, the 
 northern sky again became clear ; a thick 
 and almost impenetrable cloud passed over 
 the moon, partiallj^ obscuring its light, 
 and thus enabling the observers to view 
 with greater distinctness the size and bril- 
 liancy 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, 
 
336 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 disappearing 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, three hundred and 
 thirteen. This number, however, was not 
 one-fifth of that which really fell, as 
 observed in New York city. Not less 
 than fifteen hundred or two thousand Avere 
 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 
 fi'om 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 j^anorama it presented Avas 
 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 gradually 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, 
 3'et 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 
 thirty-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 ! 
 
XXXVII. 
 
 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT JACKSON, 
 AT THE UNITED STATES CAPITOL IN WASHING- 
 TON, BY RICHAKD LAWRENCE.— 1835. 
 
 Failure of the Pistols to Discharge — Tlie President Kushes Furiously Upon His Assailant, and is 
 l?estrained from Executinjj; 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 Conj^ress — Great Concourse at the Capitol. — President 
 Jackson and Cabinet Present. — Lawrence Knters During the Sermon — Moves to the Kastern Portico. 
 — President Jackson Leaves with Secretary Woodbury. — Their Carriage at the Portico Stei)S. — 
 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 E^nergy 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. 
 
 " Let me go. ■;entlemen I I am not afraid— they can't kill me— I can protect myself I "—Jackson's E.xclamatio.v when Rusiiixo 
 CPOM TiiK Assassin. 
 
 ^ 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 tlie 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 R. Davis, of 
 THE PRESERVATION. Soutli CaroHua, 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 of 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 
 
 99 
 
 IT' 
 
338 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTUKY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 a half of him, the assassin extended his 
 arm and leveled the pistol at the presi- 
 dent's breast. The percussion cap ex- 
 })luded 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 read}' 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 
 cai)itol, 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 
 his friends and rushing upon the assassin, 
 he said, " Let me go, gentlemen, — I am not 
 afraid — fheg can't hill me — I can j^^'otert 
 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 jireliminary examination 
 before Judge Cranch. At this examina- 
 tion, ]\[r. Iiandol[)h, 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 bj' the marshal what motive 
 he had to make his horrid attempt, stated 
 that the president hud killed his father. 
 His father was an Englishman who died 
 many years ago in AVashington. 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 acquaiiited 
 with him since he had left his family, and 
 had lieard nothing to his disadvantage, 
 until, of late, he was informed of his being 
 
 quarrelsome among 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 appearance of frenzy, or 
 derangement of any sort. When asked 
 by the court 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 anxiet}' which prevailed around him, 
 Lawrence aj'peared 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 young 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 i)ale 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 sixt}' of which 
 balls would liave made a pound ; it was 
 well packed, and forced down tight on a 
 full charge of excellent glazed jiowder. It 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 339 
 
 was a most astonishing circumstance, 
 loaded as they were and with percussion 
 caps, that the pistols missed lire. In view 
 of this latter tact, 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, b}' inclining the j>istol, threw 
 out a few grains of the powder in his 
 hand. Tliey took from a box of caps found 
 
 each of the pistols, several times, without 
 taking any other means of forcing the 
 jiuwdur into the tubes than that of ram- 
 ming home small paper wads on the 
 charges. The 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 })resident, including such 
 men as Clay, Calhoun, Poindexter, AVhite, 
 and others, were, in the frenzy of the 
 moment, suspected of having conspired in 
 a plut to get rid of the president ! 
 
 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATIOIS^ OF PRESIDENT JACKSON. 
 
 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, 
 
 It was ascertained that, some time pre- 
 vious, Lawrence had formed an attachment 
 to a young lady, and frequently told his 
 sister that he would by 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 diligently, 
 day and night, until he had by him about 
 
340 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 eight hundred dollars. He was disap- 
 pointed — became extremel}' pensive — quit 
 all employment — and would stand for 
 hours in a little parlor, gazing upon the 
 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 hoard. In the 
 spring of 1834, he again went as far as 
 Pliiladelphia, put up at the Mansion House, 
 ]<.ept his room, or else would stand for 
 hours on the jiorch, 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 
 board, but that he would soon have a vessel 
 of his own — that he had engaged men who 
 would put all tilings right. About this 
 time he became very quarrelsome, and his 
 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, saying that 
 his hands would do no more work — that 
 others might work, but, as for him, lie 
 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 Avas carried before the grand jury, 
 only a short time previous to the assault 
 on the president, and, after an examina- 
 tion of witnesses who knew him, tlic 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 rasli 
 ai-t, 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 iipon the president 
 with 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 your 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 the 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." 
 
GREAT AND jMEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 341 
 
 '' How came Genenil Jackson to get the 
 power over >'our riglits and money ? " 
 
 " The tirst cause was what took phice 
 at Orleans. He leatiriied 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 tliem 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 money, and if he refused, 
 I would pursue the same plan I did 
 before." 
 
 On the day appointed for the trial of 
 Lawrence, he a[)peared in court dressed in 
 a gray coat, black cravat 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 hi-s 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 attorney, 
 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 liis 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, 
 saj'ing 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 alwaj^s customary for the pris- 
 oner to be in court, in cases like this; he 
 wished the trial to proceed in the ordinary 
 wa}'. On i^roceeding 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 ceremon}' 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 
 
342 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 witli the president and other officei'S of the 
 government ; had listened to tlie 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 lieard a noise 
 like the discharge of a pistol ; looked 
 round directly, and there saw a person, 
 about six or eight feet, a little obliquely' to 
 the left, who was just in the act of lower- 
 ing his hand when my eye caught him. 
 It 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 jiresident. 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 my 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 
 liini 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. K. 
 
 Davis. 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 uj) 
 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 
 increased the sound. ()n 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 trj'ing 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 e^'e 
 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 — 
 
GREAT AND MEMOKABLK KVENl'^. 
 
 343 
 
 " Wliat I have doiio to Jatlvson, was on 
 account of money wliirli lio owes me. I 
 went tliere for tliat juirpose. I consider 
 all in this court as umler me. Tlie United 
 States bank has owed me money ever since 
 1802, and I want my money. I must 
 have my revenue from that bank. You 
 arc under me, gentlemen. (Mr. Wood- 
 ward, the deputy-marshal, endeavoring to 
 prevail on liim to resume his seat^ Law- 
 rence turned round, indignantly, and said, 
 'Mr. Woodwavd ! mind i/ou.)' own business, 
 or I shall treat yoxi with ser^erit]//') It is 
 for me, gentlemen, to pass upon jou, and 
 not you upon me." 
 
 Again did the counsel appeal to the 
 feelings of the court to spare itself, and 
 the jury, tliis 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 prevent it. 
 Tlie court replied, that Lawrence 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 I " 
 
 Lawrence's counsel here endeavored to 
 soothe him, by telling him he should have 
 his rights. "Ay, but when?" "To- 
 day," replied his counsel ; and he sat down, 
 contentedly, on this assurance. 
 
 It was, of course, not at all diflficult 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, that the weather was cold. In 
 the spring of the next year, he started 
 
 again to go to New York or rhiladeli)hia, 
 lint he certainly got no farther than IMiila- 
 delphia ; on his return this time, he siid the 
 peojde would not let him go, that tlie gov- 
 ernment opi)osed his going, that I and 
 others had prevented him ; that he should 
 not be able to go UTitil he got a ship and 
 captain of his own, — that, when he got to 
 Philadelphia, he found all the pajiers so 
 full altout him, that he was obliged to 
 come back. After this, he remained in 
 my house six months, but did nothing, 
 saying he had no occasion tolal>or, 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 ■whicli were now before con- 
 gress. He used to attend congress regu- 
 larly. In January, 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 my 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 INIr. Redfern, 
 as to whether Lawrence held two estates 
 in Ireland, the answer was in the nega- 
 tive. On asking Lawrence the names of 
 his estates, he replied, very gravel}', "Tre- 
 gear and Kinnany ! and they are attached 
 to the crown of England ! " 
 
 Similar in its bearing, was the testi- 
 mony of Mr. Drury, who had known Law- 
 rence twenty-five years, and who stated 
 the following facts : Eor the last year 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 rallows.' He conceived 
 himself to be King Richard the Third, of 
 
344 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 England, and likewise king of this coun- 
 tr}' ; 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 Avho he's dunning ! ' He would 
 stand at the door for hours, Avrapt 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 iu 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 Richari' 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, ' VLl 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 dispvm- 
 ishable. Acting upon this ground, several 
 physicians were examined iis 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, especiall}' as 
 to an^'thing connected with General Jack- 
 son, — and therefore not to be treated as a 
 moral agent. Among the ph3'sicians who 
 expresse^l 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 jur}' were out only five minutes, 
 returning at once with a verdict of ''Not 
 guilty, he having been under the influence 
 of insanit}' 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 country, 
 had almost entirely subsided, — the first 
 impression, that the liorrid 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 inmate thirty or forty 
 years. 
 
XXXVIII. 
 MORSE'S INVENTION OF THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH, 1835. 
 
 Realization of the Highest Ideal of a Mechanical Miracle.— Principle, Structure, and Operation of the 
 Maciiine.— Net-work of Lines Established Over the Four Continents.— Tiie Inventor's Experiments, 
 Labors, Discouragements, and Triumphs — " Orders of Glory," Gifts, and other Honors, i?estowed 
 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.— Tiie Invention Made Public in 1837.— Wonder and Increduhty— 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 the Wires to Baltimore. — First Message Thi-ough. 
 
 "That steed called 'Lightning' (eay the Fates) 
 Is owned in the I nitcd Statts: 
 ' Twas Fraukhn's hand tliat caught the horse; 
 'Twae harnessed by Prolessor Akr.-e." 
 
 HANGING THE TELEGRAPH WIRE. 
 
 INGS and courts, presidents and cabinets, have 
 united in doing honor to that illustrious American 
 citizen, who, more than any other maji of liis race, 
 has realized to the human mind its highest ideal, or 
 conception, of a mechanical miracle, through human 
 agency. It is not claimed that, previous to Profes- 
 sor Morse's achievement, the possibility of applying 
 electricity to telegraphic communication had not oc- 
 cupied other minds, but that to him belongs the 
 high merit of having effected, after years of patient 
 ^ ,^J? y. ^^> study and ingenious experiment, 
 a practical application of the great 
 g^^ scientific principle involved. 
 ^« In the year 1829, Mr. Morse, 
 who was then an artist of much 
 celebrity, having, more than fifteen 
 years previously, exhibited before 
 the Eoyal Academy of England his 
 picture of " The Dying Hercules," 
 of colossal size, made a second pro- 
 fessional visit to Europe, Avhere he 
 remained three years ; and it was 
 _ this visit which proved, through a 
 ■■^^^^iii^^tt casual circumstance, of so much 
 ^Wm&^^^- importance to himself, to science 
 r.-.^-^^ ,-%p and the world, — for it was on his 
 ' "'^^'i^ return in 1832, on board the ship 
 ^ Sully, that he made that great dis- 
 covery, to which is due the present 
 system of telegraphing. A gentle- 
 

 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 man on board had been describing some 
 experiments made in Paris with the 
 electro-magnet, and the question arose as 
 to tlie time occuined by the fluid in pass- 
 ing throuerh 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, inhere, in 1835, he put in operation 
 the model of his recording electric tele- 
 r/raph. 
 
 Professor Morse's discovery was based 
 on these two principal facts, namely : 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 Avhich 
 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, may 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. Tlie oj^erator 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, Pakewcll and others, 
 
 is a recording instrument, that embosses 
 the symbols upon paper, with a point 
 pressed 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 b}' 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 key, like that of a musical 
 instrument, which, on being pressed down, 
 makes contact Avith 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 
 ujwn 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 A^ery effective. 
 
 As the working of this telegraidi depends 
 upon 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 emi)loyed. The electro- 
 magnet which is directly in connection 
 
GREAT AND MEMORAl'.LE EVENTS. 
 
 347 
 
 with the telegraph wire is a small one, 
 surrmindod by about five hundred yards 
 or more of very iine 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 l>y the magnet, is also very light, 
 so that it may be the more readily attracted. 
 This higlily 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 
 
 '^V ^ 
 
 THE ORIGINAL IXSTUCMEXT. 
 
 circuit, one end of a copper wire is attached 
 to the end platina plate, and the other 
 end of the cop2")er 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 platin i plate up to 
 the metallic binding screw connection on 
 
 the small table, and the other wire runs 
 from the /.'wh; 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 biitton. 
 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 paper its stroke is neatly regu- 
 lated b}^ a set or button screw. The metal 
 pen is attached to the lever and fixed on a 
 pivot 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, 
 thei-efore, the paper is always moving and, 
 as the point is held to it for a longer or 
 shorter time, marks are made — as before 
 
348 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 explained — of dots, spaces and dashes, and 
 by a combination of these tlie 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 
 time 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 above-described efficiency and its sub- 
 sequent imjDrovement 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 mo^t 
 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 Espy, the " Storm King," was 
 asking assistance, to test his favorite 
 theory, then so prominently discussed. 
 
 Both Morse and Esp}', 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 
 were 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 telegraph 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 comniittee 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 alphabetically, 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 349 
 
 people, considered it a great humbug. He 
 had not the faintest idea of the importance 
 to liis country, of tlie vote he was to cast. 
 IJut as fortune would have it, the tliought 
 came to mind that Mr. Morse was even 
 then experimenting in tlie capitol with the 
 " new-fangled invention," having stretched 
 a wire from tlie basement story to the 
 ante-room of the senate cliamber. 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 
 
 n^y^ UyJ^'/^7^^r7:^:Jl^ 
 
 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 the 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 Wallace 
 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 — tlie 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 have 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 
 
3-30 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 senator who seemed to be speaking 
 against time, and overcome by his 
 I)ro]onged watching, he left the gallen^ 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 ajJpeals to 
 congress at a future time. He accordingly 
 made his preparations to return to Xew 
 York on the following morning, and 
 retii'ing 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 Avas 
 all aglow with pleasure. 
 
 *' 7 Juive come to congratulate you,''^ she 
 remarked, as he entered the room, and 
 aj)proached to shake hands with her. 
 
 " To congratulate me ! " replied Mr. 
 Morse, "■ and for what ? " 
 
 " Why, 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 ver>' 
 last that was acted on, and I beawd 
 permission to convey to ^-ou 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," 
 rejilied she ; " lietnemher ! " 
 
 '•'• Rememhcr ! ^^ responded Professor 
 Morse ; and they parted. 
 
 The plans of Mr. Morse were now alto- 
 gether changed. His journey 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 conve^^ the wires, inclosed 
 in a leaden tube, beneath the ground. H e 
 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 delav 
 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 l\v 
 the operator at the other, Mr. Morse sent 
 a messenger to Miss Ellsworth to inform 
 her that the telegrajih 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 telegra})hic wire connecting 
 remote places with each other : 
 
 "What hath God wriOucuT! " 
 
 The original of the message is now in 
 the archives of the Historical Society' 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 
 communi(;ation which now, like a web, 
 traverse the length and breadth of the 
 republic, and which, indeed, connect and 
 cover as with a ni't-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 mechanieal 
 improvements in the construction and 
 
GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 351 
 
 working of the apparatus, as also its diver- 
 si lied adaptation, brouglit l\)r\vard by the 
 fertile genius of Morse, as well as by 
 House, Hughes, Phelps, Shaffner, O'Reilly, 
 Vail, Faruier, I'age, Hicks, Ritehie, ete., 
 andwliirh liave secured tutlie whole s^'steni 
 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 INEorse, was the "Order of 
 Glory" from the Sultan of Turkey. The 
 rulers of Prussia, AVurtemberg, and Avis- 
 tria, sent him superb gold medals ; the 
 emperor of the Frencli 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 Kniglit Commander of the 
 Order of Isabella the Catholic. 
 
 powerful 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 : '' Ahd-d-Kader 
 
 /tas been taken ;" a fog, however, 
 
 envelo})ed the remainder of the sentence 
 in obscurity. The excitement, neverthe- 
 less, in the money market, was at fever 
 height, at the su[)pose(l cai)ture of that 
 adroit enem^^, and the funds rose tremen- 
 dously. The following day, the sentence 
 being completed, the intelligence ran thus : 
 " Abd-el-Kader has been taken wltlt a 
 dreailfal eold in his Iteady The funds 
 fell, but the coup — 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 
 
 ORDERS OF GLORY CONFERRED 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 
 3'oung 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 
 
352 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 young man to proceed to England, upon 
 business ; and tlie lover accordingly ar- 
 rived, on his route;, in New York. In the 
 meantime, the enamored young lady had 
 got an inkling of her fathei-'s intentions, 
 and wishing to frustrate them effect uallij, 
 sent a message to that effect to her lover 
 in New York, hy the following expedient: 
 She took lier 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, theij were mar- 
 ried hi/ 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 alreadij 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 — dain^' 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 very great, and feats were 
 performed which, for that day of the art's 
 infancy, were indeed marvelous. One 
 instance will siiffice : 
 
 An important speech by Mr. Clay was 
 much looked for. It was delivered in 
 Lexington, Ky., on a Saturday, 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 j^assing 
 over a jiortion 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 
 liands, he mounted a horse, and followed 
 the line, through the pelting storm, until 
 he found a break, caused by the falling of 
 a tree, beyond Turtle Creek, a distance of 
 twentj'-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 
 sijeech and sent it to New York, finishing 
 it at four o'clock in the morning. 
 
XXXIX. 
 
 TREMENDOUS FIRE IN NEW YORK CITY.— 1835. 
 
 Its Destructiveness Unparalleled, up to this Period, in the Western World. — Resistless Devastation for 
 Sixteen Hours in Midwinter. — A Pall of Ruin and Desolation Over the Richest Business Locality 
 in America. — Nearly Seven Hundred Warehouses, Filled with Costly Merchandise, and the Com- 
 merce of Every Clime, Laid in Ashes. — Loss Upwards of Eighteen Millions. — Peculiar Seat of this 
 Fire. — The Money Center of America. — Breaking Out in the Evening. — Fury of the North Wind — 
 The Flames Spread Violently. — Bitter and Intense Cold. — Freezing of the Engine- Water. — All the 
 Elements Hostile. — Human Endeavors Powerless. — Acres on Fire at Midnight. — Sweeps from Point 
 to Point. — Mingled Horror and Sublimity. — Efforts to Save the Exchange. — Fate of that Splendid 
 Pile. — Fall of its Magnificent Dome. — Numberless Reverses of Fortune. — Rich Men Made Penni- 
 less. — A Singular Exception.— Swarms of Bold Robbers. — Military Protection Required. — Discovery 
 of a Diabolical Crime. — Supposed Cause of the Fire. 
 
 " Only the horrors of the great fire of London in 1666, and of Moscow in 1812, can be said to rival those of the night of December 16, 
 1835, in the commercial metropolis of America."— UiSTORY of New Yokk. 
 
 |ODER]Sr history affords but few instances of more awful desolation by- 
 fire, than that which so suddenly visited the city of New York, on the 
 sixteenth and seventeenth of December, 1835. Indeed, there are not 
 many examples of any calamities affecting property and business 
 interests, showing greater destruction or involving consequences 
 more distressing. The consuming of nearly seven hundred spacious storehouses of 
 the first class, filled with the most valuable goods of all kinds and from all countries, 
 covering about twenty acres of land, and giving employment in various connections 
 to several thousand persons, was an unprecedented event, in the roll of national 
 disasters. It was not, however, upon the individuals directly employed, nor upon the 
 owners or occupants of the buildings consumed, nor even upon the merchants, that 
 the chief burden of this appalling calamity fell ; but it was the thousands of widows 
 and orphans who were dependent upon the dividends of their little stock in the insur- 
 ance companies for their daily bread, who were most afflicted by this unpitying devas- 
 tation ; and next to them, the artisan and manufacturer, in almost every district of the 
 United States, however remote, was irretrievably involved. Indeed, every species of 
 business and every ramification of trade, throughout the Union, was seriously affected. 
 It was the fountain-head that had been so dreadfully ravaged, and the whole nation felt 
 the shock. Other fires there have been, most disastrous in their extent, — at Savannah, 
 San Erancisco, Sacramento, Pittsburg, Portland, Albany, St. Louis, Charleston, etc., 
 — but this is conceded to have been, up to that time, the most fearfully memorable, of 
 the century, and, therefore, appropriately narrated in this volume. For terrible 
 23 
 
354 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 destruction of life, also, numbering some 
 seventy victims, including Hon. George 
 W. Smith, governor of the state, the 
 burning of the theater in Richmond, Va,, 
 December 24, 1811, will forever be remem- 
 bered. 
 
 At nine o'clock, on the night of Wednes- 
 day, December sixteenth, smoke and flames 
 were seen to issue from a five-story build- 
 ing in Merchant street, formerly Hanover 
 street, in the vicinity of the Merchants' 
 Exchange, and in precisely that locality 
 of the metropolis which was crowded with 
 the most costly treasures of foreign and 
 domestic production. The weather had 
 been unusually severe for several days ; 
 but on the night in question, the cold had 
 increased to an intensity almost without 
 precedent, the thermometer standing be- 
 low zero, with fierce north winds, amount- 
 ing nearly to a gale. It was an awful 
 night for New York and the country. 
 
 The flames soon leaped forth in fury 
 through every aperture, and seized on 
 the adjoining buildings for their im- 
 mediate prey, and, spreading from this 
 point, the raging element in a short time 
 obtained a tremendous advantage in the 
 most compactly and loftily built portion 
 of the city, filled with silks, cloths, liquors, 
 oils, chemicals, and other combustibles, 
 and intersected only by narrow streets 
 which could interpose no barrier to the 
 progress of the flames. 
 
 Owing to the unparalleled severity of 
 the weather, and to the fact that there had 
 been so many alarms within the week, 
 requiring so large an amount of harassing 
 service of the fire department, the latter 
 did not rally with its accustomed alacrity. 
 It was soon found, too, that the effort put 
 forth to check the power of the conflagra- 
 tion in that quarter to which the wind was 
 so vehemently urging it, was utterly una- 
 vailing. The water so plenteously thrown 
 upon it by hydrants and engines, was 
 blown back in the faces, and fell con- 
 gealed at the feet of the brave firemen, or 
 seemed only to add to the fury and force 
 of the destroyer, which rapidly embraced 
 the great range of houses on the opposite 
 
 side, until the whole triangular block, 
 formed by Wall, William, and Pearl 
 streets, became one lofty altar of waving 
 fires. From this point, taking the direc- 
 tion of Wall street below Pearl, on the 
 one hand, and Pearl street below Wall, 
 on the other, the flames rolled on, mocking 
 all human endeavors to restrain them. 
 
 Advancing thus in two grand divisions, 
 the conflagration, as contrasted with the 
 red masses of buildings which they alter- 
 nately illuminated with glaring brightness 
 and wrapped in huge volumes of smoke, 
 conveyed to the beholder the idea of some 
 fabulous monster of destruction, Avaving 
 its wings over its helpless and devoted 
 prey. 
 
 The extraordinary strength of the Wall 
 street buildings — many of them resisting 
 firmly the assaults of the destroyer, and 
 none of the walls crumbling and falling 
 into the street, as is so generally the case 
 — did more for the security of those north 
 of the street, than anything within the 
 power of human effort. Onward, how- 
 ever, still onward, continued the resistless 
 sweep of destruction, involving some of 
 the most massive blocks of warehouses in 
 the world, crammed with the costliest of 
 goods from every section and clime. 
 
 After consuming the Phoenix buildings 
 on Wall street, the fire pursued its 
 way to Water street. Front street, and 
 at length, as the morning dawned, 
 to South street, adjoining the East 
 river. But j^rogressing at the same 
 time, through Pearl street, on both sides, 
 towards Hanover square, it crossed and 
 speedily devoured Governeur lane, Jones's 
 lane, and the whole of Eront and Water 
 streets that lay between Wall street and 
 Franklin market. In the meantime, it 
 was furiously extending through Exchange 
 street and Exchange place to William 
 street, and to all the buildings in the rear 
 of the Merchants' Exchange. 
 
 This magnificent and beautiful edifice, 
 which, for the elegant grandeur of its ar- 
 chitecture, was the pride not only of 
 New York but of the whole country, it 
 was hoped would continue to rear its dome 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 355 
 
 VIEW OF WALL STREET DURING THE FIRE. 
 
 in the sky, though all around it should 
 become a scene of desolation — for, there 
 being no flames between it and the course 
 of the wind, it seemed fortunately secure 
 from any imminent danger. And so much 
 conlidence was reposed in this presumption, 
 that the building was selected as the grand 
 depot for the most precious kinds of mer- 
 chandise that could be rescued from the 
 adjacent streets, and with which its great 
 hall was completely piled. Every pre- 
 caution, too, was taken to preserve it, by 
 conveying hose to its roof, and by spread- 
 ing wet blankets along those parts of the 
 windows and cornices most exposed to the 
 heat. But all proved vain ! At about one 
 o'clock in the morning the splendid edifice 
 took fire, and although the flames prej^ed 
 upon it but slowly for some time, they at 
 length burst forth from its roof and dome, 
 and weaved a pall of ruin over its vast and 
 beautiful form. For full half an hour, the 
 flames arose in pyramidal columns, from 
 its dome, up to an immense height in the 
 troubled sky, and rendered it a most sub- 
 lime though fearful object. But before 
 
 the unhappy persons who had made it a 
 refuge for their property from the terrible 
 enemy that was abroad, could again rescue 
 scared}' an article, the dome fell in with a 
 portentous crash, burying beneath its 
 ruined ai'ches the new and beautiful statue 
 of the illustrious Hamilton. A gallant < Ifort 
 was made to save this statue, by a young 
 officer from the navy yard, with a party of 
 four or five sailors ; they had actually 
 succeeded in removing it from the pedestal, 
 when the danger from the approacliing 
 fall of the roof, — watched with breatliless 
 anxiety by the terror-stricken multitude — 
 compelled them to seek safety in flight. 
 
 At this time, the fire on Pearl street had 
 reached Hanover square, which large space 
 of ground was covered wath goods. A 
 desperate struggle was made to save them, 
 but so rapidly did the fire spread on both 
 sides of the square, that, in a short time, 
 everything was reduced to cinders. Of 
 the South Dutch church, which had also 
 been stored with valuables, nothing was 
 left but the bare walls. The post-oflice 
 shared the same desolation. 
 
356 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 To check the augmenting avalanche of 
 fire, when water could not be thrown upon 
 it or seemed of no avail if it was, gun- 
 powder was at last resorted to; but none, 
 in sufficient quantities was to be procured 
 in the city, it not being allowed as an 
 article of merchandise. An application at 
 tlie fort on Governor's Island was unsuc- 
 cessful ; but a supply was ultimately pro- 
 cured, after daylight, from the Brooklj^n 
 navy yard, with a corps of marines, and 
 the demolition of some prominent build- 
 ings by this means, contributed materially 
 to the subjugation of the flames, which 
 was finally effected at Coenties slip, about 
 noon of Thursday, after an awful and 
 uninterrupted devastation of sixteen hours. 
 
 Thus, seventeen of the most valuable 
 ' blocks ' in the money and business part 
 of the city were totally destroyed, and 
 three others nearly so. The total loss, as 
 given in the New American Cyclopoedia, 
 was more than eighteen viillion dollars ! 
 Six hundred and seventy buildings were 
 burnt, principally occupied as importing 
 and wholesale warehouses, — the seat, in- 
 deed, of the greatest monetary and com- 
 mercial transactions on the American con- 
 tinent. It is not likely that the destruc- 
 tion of any given section of any other city 
 in the world, of equal extent, would have 
 involved a greater loss of capital, or ruined 
 the fortunes of a larger number of men. 
 The south side of Wall street was half 
 destroyed. William, Pearl, Water, Front 
 and South streets, from Wall street to 
 Coenties slip, were in ruins. Exchange 
 place, Hanover street, Merchant street, 
 and Hanover square, were entirely de- 
 stroyed ; Stone street, from Pearl to Broad 
 street, nearly so. Some of the buildings 
 on Broad street suffered ; but throughout 
 the night this noble avenue was univer- 
 sally regarded as the only efficient barrier 
 against the entire destruction of the first 
 ward, involving results almost incalculable, 
 to property of every description. 
 
 Before the gunpowder was used in blow- 
 ing up the buildings, there were constantly 
 heard loud reports caused by explosions 
 of casks of spirits, chemicals, and other 
 
 substances. During the entire night, the 
 scene was one of awful terror and inde- 
 scribable grandeur. The drought of the 
 season had contributed to the combusti- 
 bility of the materials, and the rapidity 
 with which house after house, range after 
 range of buildings, was Avrapped in flames, 
 was frightful to the beholder. The gale 
 being strong, large flakes of fire were 
 borne whirling aloft, through the dark 
 vault of heaven, with fearful splendor. 
 
 Among the noticeable matters of curi- 
 osity, observed during the progress of the 
 conflagration, was the resistance offered 
 so long and staunchly to the flames, by 
 the South Dutch church. Rev. Dr. Mat- 
 thews's, but which finally yielded to the 
 all-conquering foe. The bright gold ball 
 and star surmounting the structure — 
 crowning the highest point of the sjjire — 
 gleamed brilliantly ; and thus, while the 
 two were shining, in the deep blue con- 
 cave, with an intensity of brightness 
 which attracted general remark, they sud- 
 denly gave one surge, and fell, in all their 
 glory, into the chaotic heap beneath. 
 Similar was the fate of the Hamilton 
 statue, which, towering brightly amidst 
 the sea of flames that dashed against its. 
 crackling base, cast a mournful glance on 
 the terrific scene, and then fell with stately 
 motion, perishing under the crush of the 
 edifice of which it had been, as it were, 
 the tutelary genius. A fine old syca- 
 more, near the corner of Beaver and Wil- 
 liam streets, on the premises formerly 
 occupied by Cadwallader D. Colden, vig- 
 orously resisted the foe, standing un- 
 harmed amid the ruins. 
 
 At the head of one of the slips, a novel 
 spectacle occurred. A large quantity of 
 turpentine, piled up in barrels, caught the 
 flames and burnt with great fury, on ac- 
 count of its jieculiarly inflammable charac- 
 ter. It ran down in a stream, like burn- 
 ing lava, into the dock, upon the surface 
 of the water, and, being lighter than the 
 latter, spread out until it had covered a 
 vast extent, giving the river the appear- 
 ance of one rolling mass of liquid fire, 
 startling but beautiful to behold. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 357 
 
 Peculiarly exciting was the doom which 
 overtook Hanover square, where every- 
 body thought the goods deposited would 
 he perfectly safe. In this great area, 
 there was accumulated from the stock of 
 all the French stores, a mass of silks, 
 satins, laces, dresses in pattern, caj^es, 
 Cashmere shawls, and the richest kinds of 
 fancy articles, forming an enormous pile 
 sixty feet wide by twenty-five feet in 
 height, or nearly one hundred feet square. 
 Suddenly, and to the ajialling consterna- 
 tion of the anxious throng, a gust of flame, 
 like a streak of lightning, came from the 
 Dortli-east corner building, and shooting 
 
 and happy, were the next day bankrupts, 
 utterly ruined. Stejihen Whitney's loss, 
 in stores, stock, and goods, was estimated 
 at nearly half a million dollars. In one 
 of the stores consumed, were eight hun- 
 dred thousand pounds of lead ; after the 
 fire was over, and the rubbish removed, it 
 was found that the lead had melted into 
 prodigious masses, so that the owner had 
 to quarry it out. 
 
 The great dry goods firm of which 
 Arthur Tappan, the renowned abolition 
 leader, was at the head, escaped, peculiarly, 
 the absolute ruin in which so many of the 
 other great firms were involved. Their 
 
 THE GREAT CONFLAGRATION AS VIEWED FROM COENTIES SLIP. 
 
 wildly across the square, blown by the 
 strong wind, set fire to the entire mass. 
 No human effort could for a moment suc- 
 cessfully interpose, and in a few moments 
 the whole was but a heap of cinders and 
 ashes. 
 
 Some of the individual losses were, of 
 course, immense ; as an example, one mer- 
 chant had in silks alone, three hundred 
 thousand dollars, which were destroyed ; 
 another, two hundred thousand dollars in 
 teas and brandies. Many who went home 
 to their families that evening, prosperous 
 
 store being of stone, and having window- 
 shutters of thick boiler iron — put on after 
 the mobs of the previous year, — withstood 
 the flames for nearly an hour, while all 
 was in a blaze around it, so that there was 
 thus afforded time to carry out the boolcs 
 and papers, and a very large amount of 
 goods, estimated at one hundred thousand 
 dollars in value, placing them, after two 
 removes, beyond the spread of the fire. 
 The energy and daring with which the 
 colored people pressed forward, in the face 
 of every obstacle, to save Mr. Tappan's 
 
358 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 property, greatly impressed the bystanders. 
 It was with difficulty they were restrained 
 from rushing in, after the flames had 
 burst out at the door. In addition to the 
 value of what they thus saved, was a con- 
 siderable insurance. 
 
 As usual, those miscreants who always 
 avail themselves of such public opportuni- 
 ties to exercise their skill in plundering, 
 did not neglect the present most fruitful 
 and tempting occasion. The extent of 
 their depredations, and the number of rob- 
 bers who committed them, were commen- 
 surate with the extent and character of 
 the conflagration. More than ninety rob- 
 bers were taken in the act of carrying 
 away property during the night of the 
 fire ; and the ensuing day, some two hun- 
 dred more were arrested for having in 
 their possession property which was stolen 
 from the fire. The scenes at the police 
 office, growing out of these criminal prac- 
 tices, were of a kind that beggared de- 
 scription, — the squalid misery of the 
 greater part of those who were arrested 
 with their ill-gotten spoils, the lies and 
 prevarications to which they resorted to 
 induce the magistrates not to commit 
 them to prison, their objurgations and 
 wailings when they found they must re- 
 linquish the splendid prizes they had 
 seized during the raging of the fire and 
 the accompanying excitement. The num- 
 bers in which these persons were brought 
 up for examination, by the police and mil- 
 itary, exceeded anything of a similar kind 
 on record. For three days and nights, 
 every place capable of affording detention 
 was crammed with these unhappy culprits 
 — sometimes as many as one hundred 
 being in confinement at the same 
 moment. Hundreds were discharged 
 without any other proceedings than 
 merely taking from them their plunder; 
 and, indeed, but very few of the whole 
 number, even those who had pillaged to a 
 very large amount, could be convicted in 
 a court of justice, in consequence of the 
 impossibility of identifying, by the neces- 
 sary legal proof in such cases, the prop- 
 erty stolen. But thus it was — the niglit 
 
 of terror was made a carnival of lawless- 
 ness and crime ! 
 
 On the second night after the conflagra- 
 tion, a couple of gentlemen observed a 
 stout Irish woman walking up Pearl street, 
 near the corner of Wall street, with what 
 was evidently a ponderous bundle under 
 her cloak. When she saw the gentlemen 
 observing her, she immediately commenced 
 singing, with the usual maternal tone 
 and accent, 'Hush-a-by, baby,' etc. The 
 gentlemen thinking that the poor baby 
 was quite worrisome, offered their aid to 
 quiet its infant restlessness. ' Oh, bless 
 your honors, she's asleep now,' was the 
 response. The gentlemen still persisted 
 in having a peep at the blooming little 
 cherub. She resisted — but manly tender- 
 ness could not be overcome thus. On 
 opening the cloak, they found that the 
 dear little creature, in the terror of the 
 moment, had actually changed into an 
 armful of the richest silk and satin goods, 
 slightly burnt at the ends. The affection- 
 ate mother w'as immediately secured and 
 put beyond the reach of any similar 
 maternal trials. 
 
 It is sujiposed that a thousand baskets 
 of champagne were broken and destroyed, 
 the tops being unceremoniously knocked 
 off, and the contents drank up by the 
 crowds surrounding the fire or working. 
 An immense quantity of baskets of cham- 
 pagne were to be seen floating in the 
 docks, and cheese and provisions were pro- 
 fusely scattered about. Had it not been 
 for the civic patrols formed in several of 
 the wards, property to a much greater 
 amount would have been pillaged. The 
 United States marines, too, in a large 
 bod}", under official command, formed a 
 complete chain of sentinels, all along 
 South street, from the Fulton ferr}^ to 
 Wall street, and up Wall to the Exchange ; 
 the}' kept their post, with bayonets fixed, 
 all night, and proved a terror to the hordes 
 of thieves hovering around. Nevertheless, 
 in addition to the inevitable robberies 
 after the ordinary methods, vast quanti- 
 ties of mercliandise were carried off 
 in boats, during the long nights, and 
 
GREAT AND MEMOliABLE EVENTS. 
 
 359 
 
 secreted on the Long Island and Jersey 
 shores. 
 
 One of the most remarkable develop- 
 ments of crime, in the midst of these 
 scenes of terror and disaster, was the case 
 of the man caught in the act of setting 
 fire to the house at the corner of Stone and 
 Broad streets. It is scarcely possible to 
 conceive, that there could exist such a 
 fiend as this in human shape, without sup- 
 posing him to be either a maniac, or drunk 
 with liquor. It would seem, however, to 
 have been done with design — and that of 
 the most diabolical nature, — when it is 
 considered that the fearful apprehensions 
 of the whole of that part of the city were 
 directed to this point, lest the fire would 
 cross it and reach the Battery. 
 
 On the determination, finally arrived at, 
 to check the onward march of the fire by 
 blowing up the buildings with gunpowder, 
 the fate of the city was believed to hang. 
 The material with which to carry out this 
 plan was, as already observed, obtained 
 with difficulty, but it was used effectually 
 when once secured. Nothing could be 
 more characteristic than the entire sang 
 froid with which the sailors of Captain 
 Mix's party carried about, wrapped up in 
 a blanket, or a pea-jacket, as it might hap- 
 pen, kegs and barrels of gunpowder, amid 
 a constant shower of fire, as they cour- 
 ageously followed their officers to the 
 various buildings indicated for destruction. 
 Stung with the cold, the hardy fellows 
 never for a moment quailed in the per- 
 formance of their duty. So inclement, 
 indeed, did the weather continue, that 
 many of the firemen were compelled to 
 take the fine blankets saved from the 
 flames, and, cutting a hole through them, 
 convert them into temporary cloaks : in 
 this attire they were seen the ensuing day, 
 dragging home their engines, many of the 
 poor fellows being so exhausted by fatigue 
 and bitten by the cold, that they were well 
 nigh asleep as they walked. One entire 
 company, thus accoutered, — thinking the 
 best way of dealing with their troubles was 
 to make light of them, — had artificial 
 wreaths and bunches of artificial flowers. 
 
 of the richest kind, in their caps, picked 
 up from the wreck of matter scattered 
 beneath their feet ; in this garb, they 
 left the scene of their protracted toil, pre- 
 senting a very singular contrast with 
 their begrimmed faces and jaded appear- 
 ance. 
 
 The striking advantage of railroads 
 (then in their infancy in the United 
 States), especially at a season when every- 
 thing is locked up in ice, was never more 
 emphatically demonstrated, than in the 
 prompt arrival of fire engines from New- 
 ark, N. J., nine miles distant. The same 
 locomotive that early on Thursday morn- 
 ing carried out the news of the great fire, 
 brought these engines on their platform 
 within an hour afterwards to the city. 
 Their services were eminently useful. The 
 noble conduct, too, of the Philadelphia 
 firemen, won for them deserved praise. 
 Immediately on the receipt of the intelli- 
 gence from New York, four hundred of 
 them organized themselves and started to 
 go on. Unfortunately, by the breaking 
 down of one of the cars on the railroad, a 
 large number of them were obliged to go 
 back, but some arrived early on Saturday 
 morning, and the remainder followed with 
 as little delay as possible. They reported 
 themselves immediately on arrival, and 
 having stations assigned them amid the 
 ruins, went to work with great spirit and 
 effect. 
 
 The appearance of things on the day 
 after the fire, was such as to impress itself, 
 ineffaceably, upon the memory. It re- 
 quired but a slight stretch of the imagi- 
 nation, for the beholder to feel as though 
 he were in the vicinity of Pompeii, with 
 Vesuvius sending up its lurid glare close 
 at hand, throwing a melancholy light over 
 the deserted ruins. Just here arose a 
 large and ragged pile, where the corners 
 of four stately buildings still stood up by 
 mutual support ; there towered grandly a 
 solitary chimney; yonder stood the frown- 
 ing fragment of a vast wall ; a little far- 
 ther, was the front of a half block, the 
 windows gone, — reminding one, in the 
 dim distance, of the vacancy and desolar 
 
360 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 KUINS OF THE MERCHANTS' EXCHANGK. 
 
 tion of a castle ; in the midst, there 
 loomed up half a dozen cold-visaged granite 
 pillars, standing as though they were grim 
 and solitary sentinels, stationed there to 
 frighten the plunderer from his ill-sought 
 boot3\ But here is the grandest ruin of 
 all — the Exchange ! with its huge pillars 
 rent and torn from top to bottom, and the 
 massy architraves, like the antiquated 
 temples of Carthage and Palmyra, still 
 tottering upon their capitals ! So vast 
 was the barren waste, that an uninter- 
 rupted view was afforded from Wall street 
 to the East river, and thence to Coenties 
 slip ; a prospect of awful grandeur, as far 
 as the eye could reach. 
 
 As has already been stated, the Exchange 
 was the architectural pride, not only of 
 New York, but of the nation. It was 
 three magnificent stories in height, with 
 corresponding basement and attic. The 
 south-west front, one hundred and fourteen 
 feet front, and the main front on Wall 
 street, was of Westchester marble. The 
 first and second stories were of the Ionic 
 order, from the temple of Minerva Polias, 
 at Prigne, in Ionia. A recessed elliptical 
 portico, of forty feet width, introduced in 
 
 front. A screen of four columns and two 
 antae, each thirty feet high, and three feet 
 four inches in diameter above the base, 
 composed of a single block of marble, ex- 
 tended across the front of the portico, sup- 
 porting an elegant entablature of six feet 
 in height, on which rested the third story, 
 making a height of sixty feet from the 
 ground, and the cupola which crowned the 
 structure was also sixty feet high. 
 
 The principal entrance to the rotunda 
 and exchange room was by a flight of 
 marble steps, with a pedestal at each end. 
 The vestibule was of the Ionic order, 
 from the little Ionic temple of Illyssus. 
 The exchange room, which was the rotunda, 
 measured seventy-five feet long, fifty feet 
 wide, and forty-two feet high. In the 
 center of this splendid rotunda was 
 erected, by the liberality of the New York 
 merchants, the statue of Alexander Ham- 
 ilton, sculptured by Ball Hughes. This 
 fine work of art was about fifteen feet 
 high, including the base on which it was 
 elevated, and chiseled from the whitest 
 marble. 
 
 After a long and critical official investi- 
 gation, as to the origin of this fire, the 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 361 
 
 conclusion arrived at by the citizens' com- 
 mittee, was, that a report like an explo- 
 sion of a gas-pipe was heard in the store 
 No. 25 Merchant street, to proceed from 
 No. 28, and soon after the flames seemed 
 to have been enkindled on the first floor, 
 and shot up with the rapidity of light- 
 
 ning through the scuttles in the several 
 floors to the upper story and through the 
 roof. The fire, therefore, must have been 
 produced by the bursting of a gas-pipe, 
 and the distribution of the gas, until it 
 came in contact with the coal in the stove 
 or grate, by which it was ignited. 
 
XL. 
 
 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 the " Gag Rule." — Expulsion and Assas- 
 sination 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. — What He Lived to See. — Honor from His Opponents. 
 
 " Though Hged, he was so iron of limb, 
 Noneof the youth could cope with him; 
 And the foes whom he einglv ke|il at bay, 
 Outnumbered his hairs of white and gr«y." 
 
 VENERABLE in years, and laden with political 
 lionors — such as a king might be proud of, John 
 Quincy Adams took his seat as a member of the 
 house of rej^resentatives 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 commonlj'- 
 accepted meaning of that term. In the defense of 
 the untrainmeled right of petition, as also that of 
 the freedom of speech and of the press, it became 
 evident to con.si(U'r;ite men, of all parties, that not alone was the right to discuss and 
 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, 
 
 MONSTEK PETITION TO CONGRESS. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 363 
 
 ' the old man eloquent,' as he was famil- 
 iarly called, bfoaiiu' at once the champion 
 ^f freedom of debate and the right of peti- 
 :iou in the national legislature, making 
 not America only, but the civilized world, 
 resound with the clash of the conflict. Of 
 the 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 projjer subject for the 
 legislation of Congress, he did not approve 
 of those which prayed for the congressional 
 abolition of slavery there. 
 
 Similar petitions were constanth' 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 February, 1836, 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. TJiis report 
 was 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 bafiled 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 firmnest, 
 — against a bitter and unscrupulous oppo- 
 sition, exasperated to the highest pitch by 
 bis unconquerable pertinacity — amidst a 
 
364 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 perfect tempest of vituperation and abuse 
 — he persevered, unvanquislied, in present- 
 ing these petitions, one bj'' one, to the 
 amount sometimes of two hundred in a 
 day, and demanding the attention of the 
 house on each separate petition. His 
 l>osition 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- 
 ilred and fifty women, whom he stated to 
 Itc the wives and daughters of his immedi- 
 ate constituents, praying for the abolition 
 of slavery 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 sjieaker 
 ruled that Mr. Adams must confine him- 
 self to stating the contents of the petition. 
 
 Mr. Adams. — I am doing so, sir. 
 
 The Speaker. — Not in the opinion of 
 the chair. 
 
 Mr. 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 liunian being free who sets foot iipon 
 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- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 365 
 
 erto invariable practice was to be reversed, 
 let the decision stand u[khi record, and let 
 it appear how entirely tlu- 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 3'early 
 before this honorable 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 Februar}', 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 A'ery 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- 
 tiently, and under great excitement, rose 
 and inquired what the petition was. 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 — 
 
 " Bi/ , sii', this is not to be 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 color 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, 
 
366 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 his 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 opj^ortunity 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." 
 
 Reiterating 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 suji- 
 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. 
 
 When southern members saw that, in 
 their haste, they had not tarried to ascer- 
 tain the nature of the petition, and that it 
 jDrayed for the perpetuation, instead of the 
 ahoHtion 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 guilt}'^, 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMOllABLE EVENTS. 
 
 367 
 
 in a dilemma — that Mv. 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 objected. 
 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 comi:)arison 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 parliamentaiy 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 trihimal (mob law), and, as an 
 incendiary, be brought to condign punish- 
 ment." " My life on it," said a southern 
 member, "if he presents that petition from 
 
 slaves, we shall yet see him within the 
 walls of the penitentiary." 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, tlieij Itave jirecise.lij viistaken 
 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 have done only my duty; 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, 
 praying 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 jjrayer 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 
 
368 
 
 OUE riEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS DEFENDING THE RIGHT OF PBTITION IN CONGRESS. 
 
 that the resolution would be received and 
 discussed. Angry 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 ^^ that 
 body. 
 
 Assuming a manner and tone ao if ho 
 
 felt the historical importance of his posi- 
 tion, he spoke with great coolness and 
 solemnity, — a style wholly unusual Avith 
 him ; exhibited, too, a magisterial air, and 
 judicial consequence, as if he thought that 
 he Avas about to pour down the thunder of 
 condemnation on the A^enerable object of 
 his attack, as a judge pronouncing sentence 
 on a convicted culprit, in the sight of 
 approAnng men and angels. The A'ast 
 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. 
 
 "Wlien 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 Avhose consecrated 
 head the vials of partisan wrath had been 
 outpoi;red. Among the croAvd of slave- 
 holders AA'ho filled the galleries he could 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 369 
 
 seek no friends, and Init a lew among those 
 immediately around liim. Uiiexcited, lie 
 raised his voice, high-keyed, as was usual 
 Avith hiiu, hut clear, untrcmulous, and 
 firm. In a moment his inlinuities disaj)- 
 peared, although his shaking hand could 
 not hut he noticed; tremlding nut witli 
 fear, hut with age. At iirst there was 
 nothing of indignation in his tone, niannei-, 
 or words. Sur[)rise and cold contempt 
 were all. The thread of ids great dist'ourse 
 was mainly his present and past relations 
 to Virginia and V^irginians. After grate- 
 fully acknowledging his inlinite ohligations 
 to the great Virginians of the first age of 
 the federal re2)uhlic, he modestly and 
 unpretendingly recounted the nnsonght, 
 exalted honors, heaped upon him hy Wash- 
 ington, IMadison, and Monroe, and detailed 
 with tou(diing simplicity and fore© some of 
 his leading actions in the discharge of 
 these weighty trusts. In pursuing his 
 remarks, he chanced to fix ids eye upon 
 Marshall, who was moving down one of 
 the side-aisles. Instantly, at the sugges- 
 tion of the moment, he hurst 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 hreath hlew all his mock-judicial 
 array into air and smoke. In a tone of 
 insulted majesty and reinvigox-ated 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 wdiat 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, w^ere 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 wdiich solemnly proclaims the right 
 24 
 
 of reform, revolution, and resistance to 
 oppression, the grand old man thundered 
 out — 
 
 " Urad that <i(j<iui ! ''' 
 
 Looking proudly around on the listen- 
 ing audience, \\v heard liis triuuiphaiiV 
 vindication sounded forth in the glorious 
 sentences of the nation's Magna Charta, 
 written b}'^ INFr. Jefferson, a Virginian. 
 The sympathetic revulsion of feeling was 
 intense, though voiceless ; every drop of 
 free, honest lilood in that vast assemblage 
 bounded with high in)[iulse, every fiber 
 thrilled with excitement. The niemliers 
 of the house were all gathered arouinl liini, 
 even his persecutors paying involuntary 
 tribute to the 'old man eloquent.' Lord 
 jNIorpeth was an attentive spectator and 
 auditor ; and so were governors, senators, 
 judges, 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 ]\Ir. 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 done 
 without sacrificing his rights, the rights 
 of his constituents, and those of the peti- 
 
370 
 
 OUR FIEST CEXTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 tioners. He then stated, that if any 
 gentleman would make a motion to lay the 
 whole subject — that of which jNIarshall 
 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 
 daj's, almost single-handed, so great a con- 
 test. That this was due, in no small 
 degree, to his 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 call the roll of 
 the members, according to custom. When 
 he came to New Jersey, 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 the steps to be pur- 
 sued under such circumstances. Innumer- 
 able questions were raised, and proposi- 
 tions made, but the house could not agree 
 upon tlie mode of proceeding, and, from 
 the second to the fifth day, the house 
 remaiiifil 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 days when 
 Cromwell exchiimed, ''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 profomul silence. He appeared 
 to 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. Garland, 
 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 frojit 
 edge of his desk, where he always placed 
 them to assist him in rising. He looked, 
 in the language of Otway, like a ' fowler 
 eager for his pre}'.' 
 
 " 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 his 
 first ejaculation. 
 
 " Silence, silence ! " resounded through 
 the hall. "Hear him, hear him! Hear 
 what he has to say I 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 pa^^er might have been 
 heard in an}^ 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 ])lace, 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 971 
 
 present ! We degrade and disgrace our- 
 oelves ; we degrade and disgrace our con- 
 stituents and our country. We do not, 
 and cannot organize ; and why ? Because 
 the clerk of this liouse, 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 detiance, and holds us 
 in conteinj)t ! 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 your power to compel him 
 to call it, if he williiot do it voluntarily." 
 
 Here he was interrupted by 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 New Jersey. 
 
 " Well, sir," continued Mr. Adams, 
 ^' then let him resign, and we may 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 wa}' — 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 
 congi-ess, was dispelled by the magic, the 
 talismanic eloquence of a single man ; and, 
 
 once more, the wheels of government and 
 of legislation were put in motion. 
 
 Having, by this powerful a[)peal, 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 b}- other 
 members. The difficulty, 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 
 pnt 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 ?io," — 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 qziestion myself." 
 
372 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Tlie brave old man lived not only to 
 see 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 
 midst 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 otlier political asso- 
 ciates consisted of such eminent statesmen 
 as Crawford, Shelby-, Crownin shield, 
 Thompson, Southard, Meigs, McLean. 
 Rush, Wirt, Barbour, Porter, Van Renssel- 
 aer ; nor was his political ability hardlj' less 
 appreciated by those master leaders in the 
 ranks of his op}»onents. 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. 
 
XLI. 
 
 PASSAGE OF BENTON'S FAMOUS "EXPUNGING RESO- 
 LUTION," IN THE U. S. SENATE, AFTER A THREE 
 YEARS PARLIAMENTARY STRUGGLE.— 1837. 
 
 Vindication of President Jackson A<jainst tlie Condemnatory Sentence Passed by that Body in 1834, 
 for liis liemoval of tlie 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 'rumultuous Crowd, at Mid- 
 nijrlit — Opposition to tlie Unued States Bank. — Jackson's Message Against It. — Public Opinion 
 Divided — Con'iress Grants a Charter. — Presidential Velo of tbis Bill —Jackson Denounces the 
 Bank. — Declares it to be Corrupt —Orders tlie United States Funds Removed.- Secretary Duane 
 Declines to Act. — Taney Succeeds Him and Obeys. — Fierce Conflict in Congress. — Weeks of Stormy 
 Debate. — Proposed Censure of Jickson — Unsolution to this P'ffect Passed —Benton's Motion to 
 Fxpunge.— He Follows it up Uiicea-inirly — Mis Consummate Tact. — Approach of the l)eci>ive 
 Hour. — Kxcited Crowds Pour In.— Triumph of the Master Spirit. — Execution of the Hesolve. — 
 Strange and Impressive Scene. 
 
 " Vo imwpr on earth— bo help rae God 1— shall control the key to the Nation's f^inds, but the United States Government itsel)."— Phesi- 
 DB.M Jacksos. 
 
 jfc, remarlc concerning the celebrated parlia- 
 mentary feat acconii)liylied in the 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 l>iographer, 
 namely, that as an exhibition of many 
 especial traits of that senator's character — 
 persistency, keen and sagacious insight, 
 stnbl)orn 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, naturally 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 deeply interesting affair runs as follows : In his 
 message to congress. President Jackson expressed an opinion against renewing the 
 
 SAFE PLACE FOR TnE KEY TO THE PUBLIC FUNDS. 
 
C>i 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 charter of the United States hank, wliich 
 would expire in 1836. The bank had not 
 yet formally aj^plied 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 
 fultilled the ends for which it was estab- 
 lished, and that expediency 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 by 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 
 ability, and with perfect fidelity to every 
 obligation ; and that, being an institution 
 indispensable to the preservation of a 
 sound currency, 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 majority, 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 especiallj'^ 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 danp;2r^LiS polit- 
 ical engine, determined to cri^;icle 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 depositor3'. 
 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 oini, and 
 in support of which he should require no 
 one of them to make a sacrifice of opinion 
 or princi[)le. 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 jjress, 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 position, and his place 
 supplied b}' Roger B. Taney, who at once 
 
GREAT AND ]\rK:\r()IlARLE EVENTS. 
 
 375 
 
 executed the presidential order. Tlio 
 president emphaticall}' declared : "No 
 power on eartli — so lu-Ij} ))ie God! — shall 
 control the key to the nation's funds, 
 but the United States government itself I " 
 
 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, whic/i, after a most storm?/ de- 
 hate, passed the senate, in a slightly altered 
 form, on the tiventi/-eighth of 3farch,lS3l, 
 namely: "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 by 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 
 antl votes in a similar direction. 
 
 Mr. Benton's resolutions rehearsed the 
 principal points involved in the past his- 
 tory and i)resent as[)ects of the contro- 
 vcrs}', quite at length, the closing resolu- 
 tion being as follows: "That the said 
 resolve be expunged from the journal; 
 and, for that pur})Ose, 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 
 
 by order of the senate, this day of 
 
 , 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 an}' 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 
 
o/ 
 
 G 
 
 OUK Fir.ST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 this scene, as described, mainl}', by Mr. 
 Benton liimself, was as follows : Saturday, 
 the fourteenth of January, the democratic 
 senators agreed to liave a meeting, and to 
 take their iinal measures for passing the 
 expunging resolution. Tliey knew they 
 liad llie numbers; but they also knew 
 tlic^- had adversaries to grapple with to 
 w'.iom might be applied tlie i)roud motto 
 of Louis 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 famotis 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 
 u[»on 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 reqtiisi- 
 tioii. Tliere were serious differences upon 
 the mode of expurgation, while agreed 
 iilioii tlie thing; and finally obliteration, 
 the favorite of the mover, was given up, 
 and tlie mode of expurgation adopted 
 wliirh had been proposed in the resolu- 
 tions of the general assembly of Virginia, 
 namel}', 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- 
 ■piiu(j('(l hji the order of the Seiiufe." The 
 agreement which was to lead to victory 
 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 tlie 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 cold 
 hams, turkey's, rounds of l)eef, jiickles, 
 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 ujion 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 tilled 
 to their utmost capacity with visitors and 
 spectators, the scene became grand and 
 impressive. A few spoke on the side of 
 the resolution — chief! 3' 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 nniintain 
 their good temper readily availed them- 
 selves; but the greater part were not in a 
 humor to eat anything — especially at such 
 a feast. 
 
 The night was wearing away ; the ex- 
 
 pu 
 
 nerers were in full force — masters of the 
 
 chamber — hai>py — and vis'bly determined 
 to remain. It became evident to the 
 great opposition leaders, tliat the inevit- 
 able hour liad come ; that the 'damnahle 
 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, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 
 the reality of the thing stood before tlieni, 
 confronting tlieir presence, and refusing 
 to "down" at any command. 
 
 Mr. Callionn opposed the measure, in a 
 speech of great severity. Tlie day (said 
 lie) is gone ; night approaclies, and niglit 
 is suitahle to the dark deed we meditate ; 
 there is a sort of destiny in this thing; 
 the act must be performed, and it is an 
 act It'll irJi irill tell upon the jiollticul his- 
 tovji of this roil lit ri/ fnrccer. 
 
 'Mr. Chiy indulged in unmeasured de- 
 nunciation of the whole thing. 
 
 The last speech in opposition to the 
 measure was made by INIr. Webster, who 
 employed the strongest language he could 
 
 was there. Expectation, and determina- 
 tion to see the conclusion, were depicted 
 u[)on 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 yet 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 
 
 <7 
 
 FAC-.-'lJlILE COl'V UF THK 
 
 command, condemnatory of an act, which, 
 he declared, was so unconstitutional, so 
 derof/utort/ to the rh'irartev 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 
 
 EXPL'NGING RESOLUTION. 
 
 muscles. It has become a question of 
 i:)hysical 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 you are able and 
 determined to carry j'our measure — so, 
 call the vote as soon as yon please. We 
 shall say no more. Mr. Webster con- 
 cluded. No one rose. There was a pause, 
 a dead silence, and an intense feeling. 
 Presently the silence was invaded by the 
 single word, "question" — the parliament- 
 ary 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. 
 
378 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 The passage of the resolution was an- 
 nounced from tlie cliair. Mr. Benton rose, 
 and said that nothing now remained but 
 to execute the order of the senate, which he 
 moved be done forthwith. It was ordered 
 accordingly. The secretary thereupon pro- 
 duced the original manuscript 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 gallery, 
 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 
 b}' 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 chaii\ 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. 
 
XLII. 
 
 MAGi^IFICENT AUEORA 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 tiie Heniispliere — Innumerable Scarlet Columns of Dazzling Beauty Rise from the 
 Horizon to the Zenith — Tiie Face of Nature Everywhere Appears, to an Astonislied World, as if 
 Dyed in Blood — Unjommon Extent and Sublimity — Remarkable Duration and Aspects — Intensely 
 Luminous Character. — Universal Outburst of Luster. — Preceded by a Fall of Snow. — First Signs of 
 the Phenomenon. — Exquisite Rosy Illumination — Tiie 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, 
 
 Are loBt in their extremeB: and where to count 
 The thicli sown glories in these fields of fire, 
 Perhaps a seraph's computation tails." 
 
 "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 sublimit}^, 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 Avill suffice to show its marvelous beauty 
 sixGULAR FORM OF AURORAL ARCH. aud graudcur, — rcmarlvable 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 even 
 
380 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 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 jihenomenon com- 
 menced could not be known, it had doubt- 
 less been in progress for a while, before the 
 intensity of the light became sufficient 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 ot New Haven, says : The snow, 
 which at sunset hail covered the earth and 
 all things near it, with a mantle of the 
 purest wliite, 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- 
 denbj appeared as if dijed in blond. The 
 entire atmosphere, the surface of the earth, 
 the trees, the tops of the houses, and, m 
 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 
 iheir 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 horealis was diffused like the 
 liffht of an astral lamp, covered with a 
 red shade fif ground glass. That the 
 stratum of clouds was very thin, was 
 inferred from the fact, that, before half- 
 past six, a few scars 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 parts of the sky almost simul- 
 taneously. 
 
 East of New Haven, the storm was more 
 protracted. At New London, the snow 
 was falling copiously, and continued so, 
 unabatedly, during the Avhole 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 displa)-, 
 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 a])pearance of 
 the heavens. The sky was wholly over- 
 cast, as in New Haven, at the same hour; 
 though the cloud was not sufficiently 
 dense, absolutely to ol)scure 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, apparently, 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 theu rap- 
 idly cleared, and all traces of the aurora 
 passed away. 
 
 Rut at 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 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 381 
 
 MAGMFICENT AURORA. BOREALIS OF NOVEMKER 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- 
 able 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. For three-quarters of an 
 hour after its formation, which took |)lace 
 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, the earth was 
 completely overarched by a perfect canopy 
 
382 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 of glory! The southern columns, which 
 seemed to proceed downward from the 
 corona, rested on an arch 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 tlie arch 
 was of the strange darkness so usual at 
 such times in the nortli. The southern 
 columns were at no time so bright as the 
 nortliern, 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 tliis 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 tliey 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 approach. 
 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 
 nearly 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 rod, of a particularly deep 
 hue. This was entirely disconnected, on 
 every side, from any auroral light or 
 appearance whatever, and, from its center, 
 pencils of white radiated to the periphery 
 oji every side. 
 
 After this appearance had continued 
 some five minutes, the white lines disap- 
 peared, ami till' 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 sjjace 
 existing in the north retained its usual 
 color and appearance. Deep red streams, 
 penciled with white, then began to a])pear 
 and fade in the north, but w^ithout 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 occuj^ied 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 lying within the track 
 of the crimson arch alreadj^ 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, exliibited any of the charac- 
 teristics of auroral light. South of this 
 line, there was at no time any auroral 
 light whatever; and at the moment in 
 question, there was very little in any other 
 j)arts 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 scai'cely continued four minutes, 
 when the whole region north of the zenith, 
 to within about eight degrees of the hori- 
 zon, was again reddened and glowing — 
 while, be3'ond 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 
 surj)assed in brightness those of the 
 aurora. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 383 
 
 In Hudson, Oliin, ;it the AVestcrn 
 Reserve College, soiiu' of tlio earlier dis- 
 plays of the phenonu'non 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 some>vhat 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 phenomenon 
 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 
 
 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 brilliancy, anything of the kind ever 
 before witnessed in that region. A broad 
 field of crimson fiame, 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 vault 
 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 surprisingly 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 Maryland, 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 
 
384 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 VIEW OF THE AURORA BOREALIS I>' ITS EAKI.Y STAGES. 
 
 being risen, and the clouds having van- 
 ished, nothing remained to show tliat there 
 had been any unusual occurrence. A little 
 after nine, however, the slcy being per- 
 fectly clear, an aurora suddenly sprang up, 
 which, for magnificence, 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, 
 at 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 dusky, and formed from the north- 
 
 west point to the pole star, a broad column, 
 Avhich kei)t its position for half an hour. 
 A succession of fine 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 
 suddenly over the whole sky, and Avere 
 borne swiftly to the east by the wind. 
 
 Near Alexandria, Va., the early dis- 
 play, 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 appearance of the aurora in South 
 Carolina commenced about six o'clock, in 
 the shape of a bank or store-house of auro- 
 ral vapor towards the north. When first 
 observed, a space of about fifteen degrees 
 above the liorizon was strongly marked by 
 a pale white light, above which the crim- 
 son hue peculiar to this phenomenon began 
 to be distil. c':ly visible. At this time, the 
 greatest degree of brightness was to the 
 east of north, assuming no veiy definite 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 385 
 
 form, but extending about eiglit or ten 
 degrees east, and reaching in height to tlie 
 oonstelUition of Cassiopeia's chair, the 
 lower portion of whicli 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 graduallj^ 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 jjlienomenon, that it exhibited its won- 
 derful splendors, contemporaneousl}', to 
 the inhabitants of Europe and America, 
 though the presence of clouds greatly 
 interfered with the attractiveness and 
 grandeur of the exhibition in the former. 
 At half-past twelve, however, — sa^'s 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 many 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 Taj'lor describes 
 one of rare beauty which he there wit- 
 nessed. 
 
 25 
 
XLIII. 
 
 EXPLORING EXPEDITION TO THE SOUTH POLE, UNDER 
 
 COMMAND OF CAPTAIN CHARLES WILKTES, 
 
 UNITED STATES NAVY.— 1838. 
 
 First Naval Enterprise of the Kind Ever Undertaken by the American Navy. — The Squadron Sails 
 Ninety Thousand Miles in Four Years. — Extent and Importance of the Investigations. — Discovery 
 of the Great Antarctic Continent — Other Geographical, Nautical, and Scientific Results. — Selection 
 of Officers and Vessels. — A Scientific Corps Organized. — Route Prescribed : Seas and Lands. — 
 Enthusiastic Departure. — Arrival at Terra del Fuego. — Observations at Cape Horn. — Excursion to 
 the Cordilleras. — Ascent of a Lofty Peak. — Desolation and Silence. — New Islands Discovered. — 
 An Observatory Established. — The Samoan Group Examined. — Descent into an Extinct Volcano. — 
 New South Wales Visited. — Extreme Southward Cruise. — View of the Ice-bound Continent. — A 
 Landing Effected. — Account of this Achievement. — Experiences at Feejee. — On the Summit of 
 Mauna-Loa. — Homeward Bound Tracks. — Safe Arrival. 
 
 " The primary object of the Expedition is to promote the great interests of Commerce and Navigation : yet you are to take all occosioaa 
 not incompatible with the great purposes of the undertaking, to Extend the Bounds of Science and Promote the Acquisition of Knowledge." 
 — Official Instkuctioxs to the E.xplokeks. 
 
 UIETLY raising the flag of his gallant little squadron, in the harbor 
 of Norfolk, Va., on the eighteenth of August, 1838, the intrepid 
 ^^\%: Wilkes, as commander of the first maritime exploring expedition ever 
 undertaken by the United States government, set sail on that voyage 
 of discovery to the far southern ocean and the mysterious south pole, which, occupying 
 four years, sailed ninety thousand miles, nearly two thousand of which were along the 
 coast of a great Antarctic Continent never before seen by civilized man, and which was 
 first discovered by Wilkes from the one hundred and fifty-eighth degree of east longi- 
 tude ; — one of the numerous splendid scientific results of this grand national expedition. 
 The enterprise received its official programme from Hon. James K. Paulding, secretary 
 of the navy under President Van Buren ; and, though it was at first organized under 
 Commodore Thomas Ap Catesby Jones, he subsequently resigned. 
 
 This expedition will always be memorable in the history of the nation, from its being 
 the first fitted out by the United States for scientific objects; for, although its 
 primary design was the promotion of the great interests of commerce and navigation, 
 yet its conductors were explicitly directed to take all occasions, not incompatible with 
 the great purpose of their undertaking, to extend the bounds of science, and promote 
 the acquisition of knowledge. 
 
 Some of the specific matters to which the attention of the expedition was par- 
 ticularly called, in the official instructions, were as follows : The hydrography and 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 387 
 
 geograph}' of the various seas and coun- 
 tries visited on the prescribed route, and 
 all the researches connected with them, as 
 well as with astronomy, terrestrial mag- 
 netism, and meteorology, were confided 
 exclusively to the officers of the navy, — 
 the government expecting such results 
 from this ari-angement, as would enable 
 future navigators to pass over the track 
 traversed by the expedition, without fear 
 and without danger. 
 
 The leading members of the scientific 
 corps were Mr. H;^le, ])hilologist ; Mr. 
 Pickering, and Mr. Peale, naturalists ; Mr. 
 Couthuoy, conchologist ; Mr. Dana, miner- 
 alogist ; Mr. Rich, botanist ; Mr. Drayton, 
 and INIr. Agate, draughtsmen ; Mr. Brack- 
 enridge, horticulturist. 
 
 Much enthusiasm and anxiety naturally 
 prevailed, on the signal being given for 
 the squadron to sail. The vessels compos- 
 ing the squadron, were the sloop of war 
 Yincennes, the fiag-ship of the comman- 
 der of the expedition ; the sloop of war 
 Peacock, Lieutenant William L. Hudson ; 
 the brig Porpoise, Lieutenant Cadwalader 
 Ringgold ; the store-ship Relief, Lieu- 
 tenant A. K. Long ; and the tenders Sea- 
 Gull and Plying Fish. Every confidence 
 was reposed in Commander Wilkes, who 
 had served so creditably under Commodores 
 McDonough and Stewart. 
 
 Keeping the direction of the Gulf 
 stream, the course of the expedition was 
 towards Madeira ; having touched there, 
 they stood to the southward, and, on the 
 twenty-third of November, stood for the 
 magnificent harbor of Rio Janeiro. The 
 whole squadron then sailed by the way of 
 Rio Negro to Orange harbor in Terra del 
 Puego. The natives of the former, with 
 whom the explorers came in contact, had 
 good figures and pleasant looking coun- 
 tenances, low foreheads and high cheek- 
 bones, with broad faces, the lower parts 
 projecting; their hair was coarse and cut 
 short on the crown, leaving a narrow bor- 
 der of hair hanging down ; over this they 
 wore a kind of cap or band of skin or 
 woolen yarn. The front teeth of all of 
 them were very much worn, more appar- 
 
 ent, however, in the old than in the young. 
 On one foot they wore a rude skin sandal. 
 Many of the inhabitants of Terra del 
 Puego had their faces painted in red and 
 black stripes, with clay, soot, and ashes. 
 Their whole appearance, together with 
 their inflamed and sore eyes, was filthy 
 and disgusting. 
 
 The Petcherai Indians were found to go 
 entirely nuked, with the exception of a 
 small piece of seal-skin, only sufficient to 
 cover one shoulder, and which was gen- 
 erally worn on the side from which the 
 wind blew, affording them some little 
 shelter from its piercing influence. They 
 are not more than five feet high, of 
 a light copper color, which is much con- 
 cealed bj' smut and dirt, jiarticularly on 
 their faces, which they mark vertically 
 with charcoal. They have short faces, 
 narrow foreheads, high cheek-bones, small 
 and very black eyes, the upper eyelids in 
 the inner corner overlapping the under 
 one, strongly resembling the Chinese. 
 Their nose is broad and flat, with wide- 
 spread nostrils, mouth large, teeth white 
 and regular. The whole face is com- 
 pressed. It is impossible to fancy any- 
 thing in human nature more filthy. They 
 are an ill-shapen, ugly race. 
 
 On its cruise to the south, the squadron 
 experienced the usual reception at Cape 
 Horn — rough and stormy weather. In 
 regard to the best mode of j^roceeding, in 
 making the passage round the cape. Cap- 
 tain Wilkes expresses his belief that as 
 much depends upon the vessel, and the 
 manner in Avhich she is navigated, as the 
 route pursued, whether the cape is passed 
 close to, or given a wide berth — the ob- 
 ject of all being to pass it as quickly as 
 possible. 
 
 Arriving at Valparaiso, the explorers 
 established an observatory. An excursion 
 to the Cordilleras, by the scientific corj)s, 
 was to be expected ; but, unfortunately, 
 they were not provided with the requisite 
 instruments for ascertaining elevations. 
 They ascended a ridge belonging to the 
 main body of the Cordilleras, and at the 
 height of about ten thousand feet, they 
 
388 
 
 CUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 reached the summit. Here they had an 
 extensive view of all the line of the snowy 
 peaks. That of Tupongati appeared the 
 most conspicuous, althougli at a distance 
 of eighty miles. Indeed, the guide him- 
 self asserted that he could see smoke 
 issuing from its volcano in a faint streak, 
 but it was beyond the vision of the rest 
 
 of the party. The peak itself from this 
 view of it was quite sharp-pointed. The 
 scene immediately around tlie explorers 
 was one of grandeur and desolation, — 
 mountain after mountain, separated by 
 immense chasms, to the depth of thousands 
 of feet, and the sides broken in the most 
 fantastic forms imaginable. Nor could 
 anything be more striking or impressive 
 than the complete silence that reigned 
 everywhere ; not a living thing appeared 
 to their view. 
 
 From Callao the squadron passed through 
 the Paumotu group to Tahiti, visiting 
 islands not before known, the ships steer- 
 ing for the island of Minerva, or Cler- 
 mont de Tonnerre, one of the most eastern 
 of that 'Cloud of Islands,' as the name 
 implies. Visits were made to other islets 
 also, and their inhabitants, such as Wy- 
 toohee, Otooho, Raraka, Aratica, and the 
 Arutua or Rurick Islands ; but the ac- 
 
 count of this archipelago is, of course, 
 imperfect, the whole number of coral 
 islands being sixty-five. Remark is made, 
 however, that the landijig on a coral island 
 effectually does away with all precon- 
 ceived notions of its beaut}', and any 2)re- 
 vious ideas formed in its favor are imme- 
 diately put to flight. The verdure con- 
 sists of mere patches of wiry grass, 
 no fruit nor flowers, and most of tlic 
 trees are of stunted size. 
 
 Record is made of the discovery of 
 new islands — namely, King's island, so 
 denominated after the man at the mast- 
 head who first discovered it; Tai-a-ra, 
 situated to the northward and west- 
 ward and nigh to Raraka, which was 
 not laid down on any charts ; and 
 Kawahe. 
 
 Arriving at Tahiti, the explorers lost 
 no time in commencing operations. An 
 observatory, furnished with both as- 
 tronomic and magnetic instruments, 
 i)-x^" was at once established, and parties 
 sent out for the survey of the princi- 
 pal harbors and the intervening chan- 
 nels. A large body of officers and 
 naturalists were also sent across the 
 islands to visit Orohena, one of the 
 highest peaks, and Lake Waiherea. 
 They could not, however, reach the de- 
 sired spot, but some days afterwards Cap- 
 tain Hudson, with his officers, succeeded 
 in measuring the elevation of Aorai, the 
 peak which is next in height to Orohena. 
 This was found to be about seven thousand 
 feet ; Orohena appeared to be some fifteen 
 hundred feet higher. From these two 
 peaks, ridges descend to all parts of the 
 coast ; they are precipitous and narrow ; 
 their summit being often a mere edge. 
 
 Reaching the harbor of Papieti, the 
 commander invited the great chiefs on 
 board, the ship being dressed for the oc- 
 casion, and every mark of respect being 
 shown them. Luncheon was prepared, 
 and, when the guests were all seated at 
 it, such a collection of corpulent persons 
 was rarely if ever before seen. Previous 
 to eating, one of the chiefs said grace. 
 They seemed heartily to enjoy the food 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 389 
 
 and the occasion, and conducted them- 
 selves with a propriety that surprised all 
 on board. 
 
 It having been determined to make a 
 thorough examination of the group of the 
 ►Samoan islands, Tutulia, as the most cen- 
 tral, was selected for the station. The 
 men of Tutulia are a remarkably tall, fine- 
 looking set, with intelligent and pleasing 
 countenances. In comparison with the 
 Tahitians, they would be called sedate. 
 The women are far from good-looking, 
 with the exception of some of the younger 
 ones. They are remarkably domestic and 
 virtuous, exhibiting a strange contrast to 
 those of Tahiti. 
 
 Messrs. Dana and Couthuoy visited a 
 lake called Lauto, which is remarkable for 
 the existence of an extinct volcano, or 
 crater. The edge of tlie crater was found 
 to be two thousand five hundred and 
 seventy feet above the sea, and the de- 
 scent thence to the water of the lake is 
 one hundred and twenty feet. These gen- 
 tlemen succeeded in obtaining a line of 
 soundings across the lake, by cutting 
 down trees, and forming a raft of thera. 
 They found the depth, in the middle, nine 
 and a half fathoms, decreasing thence 
 gradually in all directions to tlie shore. 
 The form of the lake is nearly circular, 
 and it has a subterranean outlet. The 
 hill in which this crater is situated is coni- 
 cal, and there is a low knoll at some dis- 
 lance to the south of it, which is the only 
 other elevation in the neighborhood, above 
 the general height of the ridge. The bor- 
 der of the crater is clothed with the usual 
 forest foliage of these islands, which, how- 
 ever, exhibits here more than usual beauty, 
 being decorated with finely-worked fronds 
 of the arborescent ferns, in widel^y-spread 
 stars, and the graceful mountain-palm 
 plumes. 
 
 In the different jaunts across the island, 
 many of the ' Devil's,' or unconverted, 
 towns were visited. At the town of 
 Siusinga, the chief who entertained the 
 party was a priest of the Gimblet religion, 
 a new faith, of singular origin, its founder 
 having been a native of Savaii, by name 
 
 Seeovedi, who, having been taken from 
 that island by a whaler, received, while on 
 board, the nickname of Joe Gimblet. 
 Embracing, in course of time, the Roman 
 Catholic faith, and possessing withal much 
 shrewdness, he idanned to found a sect of 
 his own, and pretended to work miracles. 
 He gained many proselytes; and the sect, 
 in case of sickness, confess their sins to 
 one another, and liave a number of fast- 
 days, which are rigidly kept. Their Sab- 
 bath occurs only once a month, and is cel- 
 ebrated by the firing of guns, and the 
 puerile mummery in which their worship 
 consists. 
 
 After having surveyed and explored the 
 Samoan group, the expedition proceeded 
 to New South Wales. The natives of this 
 country are described as a proud, high- 
 tempered race, each man being independ- 
 ent of his neighbor, owning no superior, 
 and exacting no deference; they have not 
 in their language any word signifying a 
 chief or superior, nor to command or serve. 
 Each individual is the source of his own 
 comforts, and the artificer of his own 
 household implements and weapons; and 
 but for the love of companionship, he 
 might live with his family apart and 
 isolated from the rest, without sacrificing 
 any advantages whatever. They have an 
 air of haughtiness and insolence arising 
 from this independence, and nothing w'ill 
 induce thein to acknowledge any human 
 being as their superior, or to show any 
 marks of respect. They also appear to 
 have a consciousness of inde[)endence, 
 which causes them, on all occasions, to 
 treat even the highest with eqivdWty. 
 Their skin is a chocolate color; their noses 
 are not flat, nor are their lips thick ; their 
 teeth white and even. 
 
 Leaving Sidney, the last of December, 
 1839, the vessels proceeded separately to 
 the southward, when all reached the icy 
 barrier, and three of them tvere rewarded 
 until, a sifjht of tJie Intlterto unknown 
 antarctic continent, — a discovery which 
 was subsequently confirmed by both 
 French and English authorities. 
 
 According to the narrative of the explor- 
 
390 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ers, it was at two o'clock on the morning 
 of February thirteenth, 1840, that they 
 made sail to the south-west, in order to 
 close with the barrier, which they found 
 
 icebergs of tabular form. In the afternoon, 
 they saw land ahead, and stood in for it, 
 with a light breeze until half-past six, 
 when it was judged to be ten or twelve 
 
 retreated in that direction, and gave tliem 
 every prospect of getting nearer to it. 
 The course, for the most part, was through 
 
 miles distant. It was very distinct, and 
 extended from west-south-west to south- 
 south-east. The longitude was one hun- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 391 
 
 dred and six degrees, forty minutes, east ; 
 latitude, sixty-five degrees, fifty-seven 
 minutes, south. The water was very 
 green ; and, tliough sounded to tliree hun- 
 dred fathoms, no bottom was found. The 
 weather having ;iu unsettled appearance, 
 the expedition stood off to seek a clearer 
 space for tlie night. The land left was 
 high, rounded, and covered with snow, 
 resembling that first discovered, and had 
 the appearance of being bound by perpen- 
 dicular icy cliffs. 
 
 At daylight, the next morning, sail was 
 again made for the land, the vessels beat- 
 ing in for it for several hours, when any 
 further progress was found quite impossi- 
 ble. The day was remarkably clear, and 
 the land very distinct, — judged to be seven 
 or eight miles distant. By measurement, 
 the extent of the coast of the Antarctic 
 Continent then in sight, was made 
 to be seventy-five miles, and, by ap- 
 proximate measurement, three thousand 
 feet high. It was entirely covered with 
 snow. On running in, they passed 
 several icebergs greatly discolored with 
 earth, and there being no nearer approach 
 to the shore possible, it was determined 
 to land on the largest ice-island access- 
 ible, to make dip, intensit}', and variation 
 observations. 
 
 On coming up to the island, about a 
 mile and a half from where the barrier 
 had previously been encountered, the ship 
 was hove to, the boats lowered, and a land- 
 ing fortunately effected. There were 
 found imbedded in the island, in places, 
 boulders, stones, gravel, sand, and mud or 
 clay. The larger specimens were of red 
 sandstone and basalt. No signs-of strati- 
 fication were to be seen in it, but it was 
 in places formed of icy conglomerate, com- 
 posed of large i:)ieces of rocks, as it were 
 frozen together, and the ice was extremely 
 hard and flint-like. The largest boulder 
 imbedded in it was about five or six feet 
 in diameter, but could not be reached, 
 being situated under the shelf of the ice- 
 berg. Many specimens were obtained, the 
 eagerness and desire of all hands to pos- 
 sess themselves of a piece of the Antarctic 
 
 Continent being very great. These pieces 
 were in great demand during the remainder 
 of the cruise. 
 
 In the center of this iceberg was found 
 a })ond of most delicious water, over which 
 was a surface of ice about ten inches thick. 
 The pond was three feet deep, extending 
 over an area of an acre, and contained 
 sufficient water for half a dozen ships. 
 The temperature of the water was thirty- 
 one degrees. This island had, undoubt- 
 edly, been turned partly over, and had 
 precisely the same apjjearance that the 
 icy barrier would have exhibited if it had 
 been turned bottom up and subsequently 
 much worn by storms. There was no 
 doubt that it had been detached from the 
 land, which was about eight miles distant. 
 The icebergs found along the coast afloat 
 were from a quarter of a mile to five miles 
 in length ; their separation from the land 
 may be effected by severe frost rending 
 them asunder, after which the violent and 
 frequent storms may be considered a suffi- 
 cient cause to overcome the attraction 
 which holds them to the parent mass. In 
 their next stage they exhibit the process 
 of decay, being found fifty or sixty miles 
 from the land, and for the most part with 
 their surfaces inclined at a considerable 
 angle to the horizon. This is caused by 
 a change in the position of the center of 
 gravity, arising from the abrading action 
 of the waves. 
 
 Proceeding to New Zealand, the expedi- 
 tion went thence to the Feejee islands, 
 exploring the same very thoroughly. 
 Most of the harbors in the Feejee group 
 are described as mere indentations in the 
 coast outline, protected by the encircling 
 reefs of coral. Probably the best of them 
 all is that of Levuka, on the east side of 
 Ovolau, which is safe and easy of access 
 for vessels of the largest class. The town 
 is located in the midst of a grove of bread 
 fruits and cocoas, whose feathery canopies 
 afford a most delightful shade ; its site is 
 a beautiful valley, through which courses 
 a fine stream of fresh water, opening to 
 the ocean, flanked on either side by ver- 
 dant hills, and rising by a gradual ascent 
 
392 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 to the lofty peaks of basalt that bound the 
 view to the west. 
 
 The entire Feejee group comprises one 
 hundred and fifty-four islands, and they 
 are covered with a luxuriant foliage to 
 
 WILKES'S PARTY DEALING WITH THE SAVAGES, 
 
 their very summits, giving them a singu- 
 larly pleasing and picturesque aspect. The 
 climate is very fine, the soil rich, and 
 vegetation exceedingly rapid. The natives 
 are a barbarous and savage race, and to 
 
 their cruelty it was that Lieutenant Un- 
 derwood and Midshipman Henry, two of 
 the most promising officers of the expedi- 
 tion, fell mortal victims, while on shore to 
 obtain provisions. For these murders, 
 prompt vengeance was inflicted by Captain 
 Wilkes. 
 
 Captain Wilkes next visited the Ha- 
 waiian islands, and, in the course of his 
 scientific operations, ascended personally 
 to the summit of Mauna-Loa, and there 
 j)erformed the difficult and imj^ortant feat 
 of measuring the pendulum. This moun- 
 tain is nearly fourteen thousand feet high, 
 with a smooth dome, crowned by an 
 immense crater, upwards of two miles in 
 diameter. 
 
 The other jilaces visited by the exi:)edi- 
 tion, were the north-west coast of America, 
 and the Columbia and Sacramento 
 rivers ; they then explored portions 
 of California, and, leaving San 
 Francisco in the month of Novem- 
 ber, 1841, went on a cruise to 
 Manila, Sooloo, Borneo, Singapore, 
 and the Cape of Good Hope, re- 
 turning home, by way of St. He- 
 lena, in June, 1842, after an ab- 
 sence of about four years. The 
 number of sketches of the different 
 places visited, made by the artists 
 on board, was about five hundred, 
 together with some two hundred 
 2)ortraits. Thousands of speci- 
 mens of birds, animals, fishes, rep- 
 tiles, insects, shells, minerals, etc., 
 were also collected and brought 
 home. The results of the expedi- 
 tion were, in a word, such as reflected 
 the highest honor upon the national 
 government, under whose auspices it was 
 organized, and upon the gallant officers 
 and men to whom it was intrusted. 
 
XLIT. 
 
 BREAKING OUT OF THE TEMPERANCE REFORMA- 
 TION.— 1840. 
 
 Origin, EapiJ Spread, Influence, and Wonderful History of the Movement. — Enthusiasm Attending the 
 " Washingtonian " Era. — Its Pioneers Rise from tlie Gutter to the Rostrum, and Sway Multitudes by 
 their Eloquence — Father Mathew's Visit. — His 600,000 Converts. — (Career of Hawkins. Mitchell, 
 Gough, Dow, and Otliers. — First Temperance Society in the United States. — Singular Terms of 
 Membership. — Social Customs in Former Times — Unrestrained Use of Spirits. — Growing Desire for 
 Reform. — Influential Men Enlisted. — Meetings, Societies, Agitation — A Congressional Organization. 
 —Origin of " Tee-Totalism."— Deacon Giles's Distillery.—" My Mother's Gold Ring "—Rise of 
 " Washingtonianism." — 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 shall not close this letter without exhorting jou to refrain from spirituous liquors; they will prove your ruin if you do not. Consider 
 bow little a drunken man differi from a beast; the latter la not endowed with reason, the former deprives himself of it."— Gbnekal VVash- 
 
 IXOTON. 
 
 ^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 j^ublic or indi- 
 vidual abandonment of the use of intoxicating drinks. 
 
 But it sounds somewhat strangely, in these later days 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 uj^on 
 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 penalty of twenty-five cents ; provided that 
 this article shall not infringe on any 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. 
 
394 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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, 
 He wit. 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 j^opulation of 
 ten millions, between three and four mil- 
 lions were habitual spirit-drinkers, of whom 
 three hundred and seventy-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 imjierfectness of such 
 statistical data, it was admitted by all, 
 that the intemperate use of spirituous liq- 
 uors, in every part of the land, 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 fift^^ 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 ado})ted 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 
 ' fotal.' 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 apjiarcnt 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 tales, including that widely circulated 
 and admired production, '^ My Mother's 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 395 
 
 Gold Binff.'' 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, adikul greatly to the impression 
 upon the public mind. Among the in(U- 
 dents of this 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 
 1835, 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 upon 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 
 daj^s' 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, 
 Woods, AVilliams, 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 
 humblest personal instrumentality. This 
 was the organization of the Washington 
 Temperance Society, in Baltimore, in the 
 month of April, 1840 ; its most remarka- 
 ble convert being Mr. John H. 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 xisual, 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 X. 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 accordingl3^ 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, 
 yes,' replied McCurley, ' I'll be bound for 
 you ; it's your interest to cry them down, 
 anyhow.' 'I tell you what, hoys, lefs 
 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 w'ith 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 ]\Ionday 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 }>ernicious 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, wnne, 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 
 
396 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 adventures. He arose, however, dressed 
 himself, and, after hearing the pledge read, 
 went down to his shop with his 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 worthy president finished 
 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 they 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 
 Jeiferson ; when it was finally agreed that 
 the president and secretary should be a 
 committee to draft a constitution, and 
 select a name. This tbey 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 Washingtoniaiis. 
 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, and 
 provided it for his 
 guests and laborers. 
 The following curious 
 document is in point : 
 
 " Articles of Agree- 
 ment made this twelftli 
 day of April, Anno ^ 
 Domini, one tliousand l:^^—- 
 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 Philip I'ater, 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 he will faithfully and 
 industriously perform all and every part of 
 his duty as a gardener, to the best of his 
 knowledge and abilities, and that he 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 Philip 
 Bater, the said George Washington doth 
 agree to allow liim (the said Philip) the 
 same kind and (juantity 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 sbirts ; 
 three checked do ; two linnen pocket-hand- 
 kerchiefs, two pair linnen overalls ; — as 
 
 
 SIGNING THE I'LEDGE. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 397 
 
 many pair of shoes as are actually neces- 
 sary for him ; — four dollars at Christmas, 
 with ir/iick Jte maij he driatk four days 
 and four nights ; two dollars at Easter to 
 effect the same j^m'pose ; two dollars at 
 Whitsuntide, to be drunk two days; — a 
 dram in the morning 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 
 another instance, Washington's line in- 
 stincts and principles are admirably dis- 
 played : 
 
 " T 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 you do not. Consider how little a 
 drunken man differs from a beast ; the 
 latter 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 ^-ield 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 by 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 wliat he had passed through in 
 the last fifteen years, and the advantages 
 he had derived from signing the total- 
 abstinence pledge. This was the origin of 
 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 of 
 the public was attracted, so that a class 
 was reached which otherwise might not 
 have been affected by the labors of those 
 other good men who had for so many 
 years been engaged in promoting temper- 
 ance in a different way. 
 
 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 city, Messrs. Hawkins, Pollard, Shaw, 
 Case}^, 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 Avhich 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 ^lowerful among all the 
 advocates of Washingtonian reform was 
 Mr. Hawkins, who rose from the very gut- 
 ter of drunkenness to the rostrum of im- 
 l^assioned eloquence in advocac}^ of reform, 
 and with prodigious success. The pecu- 
 liar circumstances of his histor}^ had an 
 almost overpowering effect on his own 
 feelings, whenever he sjwke, 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- 
 
398 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 pui'lieus and penetralia of New York, 
 were reclaimed, and such was the over- 
 whelming power of the movement, that, 
 finally, 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 tlie 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. Ui> 
 wards of twenty-two thovisand 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, 
 Bungay, 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 his 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 by 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 countr}', 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 Galwa}'^, 
 he administered the i:)ledge to no less than 
 100,000 in two daj^s ! On his landing at 
 New York city, the civil authorities ac- 
 corded him the honor of a jmblic recep- 
 tion, — certainly well deserved, by one who 
 had been the instrument, under divine 
 guidance, of reclaiming 6,000,000 of his 
 fellow-creatures. He visited the princii)al 
 cities, north and south, and everj'^where a 
 hearty welcome was extended to him from 
 all classes. He remained several days 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 Philadelphia, he re- 
 ceived his welcome in Independence Hall ; 
 and at Boston, the doors of Faneuil Hall 
 
GKEAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 
 
 399 
 
 DISTINGUISHED TEMPERANCE ADVOCATES. 
 
400 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 opened to him on golden hinges 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 Mathew's response was, 
 ' May God bless you, my children. May 
 he give you grace and strength to keep 
 the pledge.' He then went to each indi- 
 vidual and marlved 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 upivards 
 of six hundred thousand persons enrolled 
 themselves under his banner of total 
 abstinence. Upon descending the Missis- 
 sippi, he 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 Mathcw lately?' 
 said one friend to another, whom he hap- 
 pened to meet. ' I did,' was the reply. 
 ' And I'll engage he made you take the 
 pledge!' ' He did, indeed. But did nou 
 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 an<l unassuming disposition, he 
 took a seat near the foot of the table, and 
 refrained ivom 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. 
 
 'Yon 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 401 
 
 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 gra- 
 cious and winning way, saying : 
 
 ' Gentlemen, Mr. is right. I do 
 
 not Avish any of my guests to partake 
 of anything ::igainst 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 Taylor, 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. ' Why,' he said, 
 
 'that is my Taylor jug.' 'And what is a 
 Taylor jug ? ' inquired the friend. ' W'hy,' 
 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 Earragut'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 devotedness to the 
 principle of temperance in high places 
 might be greatly multiplied. Their value 
 to the cause can hardly be overestimated. 
 
 26 
 
XLY. 
 
 FREMONT'S PIEROIO EXPEDITION OF DISCOVERY TO 
 
 THE UNTRACKED REGION OF THE NORTH-WEST, 
 
 OREGON, CALIFORNIA, ETC.— 1842. 
 
 His Exploration 
 South Pass. — 
 Every Branch 
 
 ^';W 
 
 
 of the Sierra Nevada, and of that Wonderful Gateway in the Rocky Mountains, the 
 Plants the American Flag on the Higiiest Peak of that Lofty Range. — He Enriches 
 of Natural Science, and Illustrates a Remote and Boundless Country Before Entirely 
 
 Unknown. — Fremont, a Pioneer of P2mpire. — National Objects 
 cf 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 Pathfinder. — Honors from His Country- 
 men. — A King's Gift and Regards. 
 
 "Prominently deservinR of distinguifhed recognition is the service rendered to 
 geoeiaphicul science by the American explorer, fremont." — KiNO Fbeoeric 
 William IV., of Prussia, to BAKo^ Himboldt. 
 
 VERY American reader is enchanted with the narrative of 
 El:pLoRI^uTUE^uKiu-wJisT. those 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 fully acquainted with the character 
 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 403 
 
 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 wonderful gatewaj/, the 
 South Pass, the great crossing place to 
 these mountains on the way to Oregon. 
 
 In executing his 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 Water 
 — 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 valley 
 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 Rocky 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 valleys 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. 
 
 When about sixty miles distant, the 
 party caught the first faint glimpse of the 
 Rocky Mountains. Though a tolerably 
 bright day, there was a slight mist, and 
 tlie 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 militar3' 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 
 expanse of prairie, 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 
 party were obliged to watch very closely 
 to find the place at which they had reached 
 the culminating 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 
 
404 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 Siniplon 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. 
 
 1 I'LANTING AMERICAN FLAG ON THK 
 ROCKY MOUNTAINS, BY FREMONT. 
 
 A scene of characteris- 
 tic adventure was that of 
 reaching the summit of 
 these mountains. Putting 
 hands and feet in the crev- 
 ii-es between the blocks, 
 Eremont succeeded in get- 
 
 ting over it, and, on attaining the top, 
 found his companions in a small valley 
 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 breeze tvhere never flag waved 
 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 place. 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 Avere 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. Erom this pre- 
 sumed loftiest peak of the great mountain 
 range, — since known as Eremont's Peak, — 
 could be seen innumerable lakes and 
 sti-eams, the spring of the Colorado of the 
 Gulf of California, on the one side ; on the 
 other, Avas 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 terrible ronvulsion. Parallel to 
 its length, the ridge was split into chasms 
 and fissures ; between which rose the thin 
 lofty Avails, terminated with slender mina- 
 rets and columns. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 405 
 
 Fremont's next tour was devoted to 
 Oregon and California. On arriving at 
 tlie Utali lake, he had completed an 
 immense circuit of twelve degrees diame- 
 
 ter north and south, and ten degrees east 
 and Avest. 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 exjilorers 
 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 they 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 yet 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 tlic 
 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 
 S3'stem 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 live hundred 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 
 waters 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 which 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 way south to the Colorado, 
 or lost in sand, as the Mo-hah-ve ; while 
 to the 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, the}^ crossed the ridge 
 which parted the two systems of waters. 
 They entered the basin at that point, and 
 
406 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 continued for some time to travel in it, 
 having its south-eastern rim — the Wah- 
 satch mountain — on tlie 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 valle3\ 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 ON HIS GHKAT EXPLORING TOUR TO THE FAR WEST AND ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 
 
 light and revealed to public view in the 
 results of this exploration. But the great 
 pathfinder was to win laurels in still 
 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 407 
 
 reduced Monterey. The successor of Sloat 
 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 
 Fi'emont was appointed governor of the 
 territory, which, largely 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 fight. 
 Through San Pablo, and Monterey, and 
 
 Josepha, 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 / '^ 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 — 7iow 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 
 asrain — 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. 
 
XLYI. 
 
 REBELLION IN RHODE ISLAND, UNDER THOMAS W. 
 
 DORR.— 1842. 
 
 Dissatisfaction with the Old Restricted Charter Granted by King Charles. — Popular SuflFrage and Equal 
 Political Privileges Demanded. — Resistance of the Party in Power to these Movements. — The Con- 
 testants Arm and Take the Field. — Defeat of the Agitators and Flight of Dorr. — Ultimate Prevalence 
 of their Principles. — A Cliarter Two Hundred Years Old. — Its Monarchical Provisions. — SuflFrage 
 for Property Holders. — Denied to all Others. — An Exclusive Legislature. — Reformed Measures 
 Demanded. — A People's Convention Called. — They Form a Constitution. — Proclaimed the Supreme 
 Law. — Legislature Chosen under It. — Thomas W. Dorr Elected Governor. — Is Treated as a Traitor. — 
 Claims to be the People's Man. — Governor King's Military Activity. — Dorr Heads a Large Force. — 
 Tries to Seize the Reins of Power. — Is Routed : Quits the State. — Returns Again to the Conflict. — 
 Entrenches at Chepachet : Retreats. — Tried for Treason and Imprisoned. — Pardoned and Restored. 
 — Something about " Barn-burning," or the Anti-Rent Insurrection in New York. 
 
 " All political government should be instituted for the good of the whole in general, and of every individual in particular."— Ess ats on 
 Government. 
 
 "CHAKTEU" vs. "CONSTITUTION.' 
 
 HARTER rights, granted by a king, constituted the charter 
 of the political institutions of Rhode Island, for nearly two 
 hundred years. This charter, received from Charles the 
 Second, in 1663, was the fundamental law, and, down to the 
 year 1841, no person had been allowed to vote for town or 
 state officers, unless possessed of a certain amount of real 
 estate. Under a subsequent statute of the legislature, based 
 upon the spirit of the charter, no person could be admitted a 
 freeman of any town, with full political privileges, unless he 
 owned a freehold estate of the value of one hundred and 
 thirty-four dollars, or was the eldest son of such a freeholder; and thus, only about one- 
 third of all the citizens of the state were legal voters. 
 
 At the January session of the legislature in 1841, a petition, signed by five or six 
 hundred male inhabitants, praying for an extension of the right of suffrage, was pre- 
 sented. Influenced by that petition, as well as by other considerations, the legislature 
 requested the qualified voters, or freemen, as they were called, to choose delegates at 
 the August town-meetings, for a convention, to be held the ensuing November, to frame 
 a written constitution. This convention was duly held, and the result of its labors, 
 completed in 1842, was the instrument commonly known as the Landholders^ Consti- 
 tution, and which was formally submitted to the people. 
 
 The friends of the constitution thus framed, in their statement of affairs to the 
 chief magistrate of the nation, state that, in May, 1841, after said legal convention 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 409 
 
 had been provided for by the legislature, 
 and before the time appointed for the 
 choice of delegates by the qualified voters, 
 a mass meeting was held by the friends of 
 the extension of suffrage, at Newport, at 
 which meeting a committee was appointed, 
 called the state committee, who were 
 authorized by said mass meeting, to take 
 measures for calling a convention to frame 
 a constitution. This committee, thus 
 authorized, issued the request for a meet- 
 ing of the male citizens in the several 
 towns, to appoint delegates to the proposed 
 convention. 
 
 Thus called together, the convention 
 assembled in Providence, in October, 1841, 
 and the instrument called the Peojyie's 
 Constitution was the result of their delib- 
 erations. At subsequent meetings of por- 
 tions of the people, in December, 1811, by 
 the authority of this convention, all males 
 over twenty-one years of age were admitted 
 to vote for the adoption of the people's 
 constitution ; these meetings not being — 
 according to the view held by the laud- 
 holders' party, — under presiding officers 
 whose legal duty or legal right it was to 
 interpose any check or restraint as to age, 
 residence, property, or color. 
 
 By the provisions of the people's consti- 
 tution, it was ordained that said instru- 
 ment should be submitted to the people, 
 for adoption or rejection, on the twenty- 
 seventh of December, and on the two suc- 
 ceeding days. And it was also provided, 
 that ' every person entitled to vote as afore- 
 said, who, from sickness, or other causes, 
 may be unable to attend and vote in the 
 town or ward meetings assembled for vot- 
 ing upon said constitution, on the days 
 aforesaid, is requested to write his name 
 on a ticket, and to obtain the signature 
 upon the back of the same of a person who 
 has given in his vote, as a witness thereto. 
 And the moderator or clerk of any town 
 or ward meeting, convened for the pur- 
 pose aforesaid, shall receive such vote on 
 either of the three days next succeeding 
 the three days before named for voting for 
 said constitution.' During the first three 
 days, about nine thousand votes were 
 
 received from the hands of the voters in 
 the open town-meetings; and, by the 
 privilege thus granted to every and all the 
 friends of the constitution, of bringing 
 into their meetings the names of voters 
 during the three following days, five thou- 
 sand more votes were obtained, making 
 an aggregate of about fourteen thousand 
 votes. 
 
 This constitution, thus originating and 
 thus formed, was subsequently declared by 
 the convention to be the supreme law of 
 the land ; and, by its provisions, a govern- 
 ment was to be organized under it, by the 
 choice of a governor, lieutenant-governor, 
 senators and representatives, on the Mon- 
 day preceding the third Wednesday in 
 April, 1842. 
 
 By the provisions of the landholders' 
 constitution, as it was called, every white 
 male native citizen, possessing the free- 
 hold qualification, and over twenty-one 
 years of age, could vote, upon a residence 
 of one year ; or, without any freehold, 
 could vote, upon a residence of two years, 
 except in the case of votes for town-taxes, 
 in which case the voter was required to 
 possess the freehold qualification, or be 
 taxed for other property of the value of 
 one hundred and fifty dollars. 
 
 By the people's constitution, every white 
 male citizen of the United States, of the 
 age of twenty-one years, who had resided 
 in the state for one year, and in the town 
 where he votes for six months, should be 
 permitted to vote, — with the same excep- 
 tion in regard to voting for town-taxes, as 
 that contained in the other constitution. 
 
 On the twenty-first, twenty-second, and 
 twenty-third of March, the landholders' 
 constitution w^as, by an act of the legisla- 
 ture, submitted to all the persons who, by 
 its provisions, would be entitled to vote 
 under it, after its adoption, for their ratifi- 
 cation. It was rejected by a majority of 
 six hundred and seventy-six; the whole 
 number of votes polled, during these three 
 exciting days, was over sixteen thousand. 
 
 The people's constitution, on being sub- 
 mitted to the people for ratification, 
 received fourteen thousand votes, the 
 
410 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 returns being counted and the result 
 declared in January, 1842 ; and, the land- 
 holders' constitution having been defeated, 
 there was now presented the single issue 
 of the old charter of 1663 on the one hand, 
 and the suffrage constitution, just adojjted, 
 as claimed, by the poj)ular vote, on the 
 other. Great enthusiasm was manifested 
 by the triumph which they and their cause 
 had achieved, and meetings and proces- 
 sions, with music, badges, bonfires, etc., 
 everywhere proclaimed the event. 
 
 Chief among the leaders in this remark- 
 able revolution, as it was termed, was 
 Thomas Wilson Dorr, of Providence, a 
 
 CX>k:.^^. 
 
 graduate of Harvard College, and who, 
 after pursuing his legal studies in the office 
 of Chancellor Kent, of New York, com- 
 menced his professional practice in Provi- 
 dence. Though for years a federalist in 
 his political principles, he in time identi- 
 fied himself with the victorious party 
 whose leaders were Jackson and Van 
 Buren. Of decided ability, Mr. Dorr was, 
 for several consecutive terms, elected a 
 member of the state legislature, and, in this 
 capacity, he repeatedly proposed measures 
 for extending the privilege of suffrage and 
 other rights of citizenship. Failing in 
 
 this, and possessing great activity and 
 adroitness as a politician, he appealed to 
 the masses, and was soon the cherished 
 leader of a large and enthusiastic party. 
 
 Governor King issued his proclamation, 
 pronouncing the movement of the suffrage 
 party treasonable, and warning all of the 
 consequences which a continuance in such 
 acts would bring upon them. 
 
 Undismayed, however, by these threats, 
 the suffrage party, presuming on its 
 strength and popularity, went into an 
 election of state officers, April eighteenth, 
 1842, resulting in the elevation of Mr. Dorr 
 to the governorship, together with the 
 other officers constituting the government 
 of the state. The seal of the state was 
 copied, and a fac simile engraving pro- 
 cured. Orders, in the form of requests, 
 were issued to the military in Providence 
 and elsewhere, which adhered to the new 
 order of things, to appear in the city on 
 the fourth of May, to perform escort duty 
 on the occasion of organizing the new 
 government. 
 
 On the day appointed, the officers of the 
 state, elect, under the peoj^le's constitu- 
 tion, assembled in Providence, for the pur- 
 pose of inauguration. The state-house 
 having been refused them, they met in an 
 unfinished building, which was designed 
 as a foundry, and which had been obtained 
 for their use. On this eventful morning, 
 the people began at an early hour to come 
 together, and a large gathering was soon 
 on hand. A procession was formed, and 
 proceeded to the place of meeting, accom- 
 ])anied by a considerable military body. 
 The new legislature was organized in ac- 
 cordance with the customary form, and 
 immediately commenced the transaction 
 of business. In jjroceeding to the ])lace 
 of meeting, the portion of the procession 
 consisting of Dorr and the other members 
 of the government elect, was flanked, on 
 the right and left, by a military guard ; 
 and the guard, as well as all the other mil- 
 itary in the procession, were supposed to 
 march with loaded muskets, and furnished 
 with ball cartridges. During the day, no 
 popular disturbance occurred, and, at night. 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 411 
 
 all was quiet. A military guard was kept 
 at the place of meeting, during business 
 hours, and at Dorr's quarters. 
 
 A message was delivered by Governor 
 Dorr, to the people's legislature, in which 
 he gave a history of past events and 
 marked out the course of policy to be pur- 
 sued. Tlie message was regarded as bold, 
 firm, and decided in its tone, and dignified 
 in its character. The first legislative act 
 performed, was, the passage of a resolution 
 to inform the president and congress, and 
 the governors of the several states, of the 
 establishment of the new government. A 
 proposition was made by Governor Dorr t., 
 take possession of the state-house in Provi- 
 dence, and other state property, but this 
 was not adopted, but commissioners were 
 appointed to demand possession of the 
 public records, funds, and other property. 
 Little was done in the way of organizing 
 the various departments of government; 
 but the ' Algerine Law,' as it was called, 
 passed by the charter legislature, and de- 
 signed to prevent citizens from engaging 
 in the suffrage party movement, or taking 
 office of any kind in connection with the 
 same, under certain pains and penalties, 
 was solemnly repealed. The courts of law, 
 however, were left unmolested, though all 
 of them were opposed to the new party, 
 and Chief Justice Durfee was its especial 
 enemy. After a session of three days, the 
 body adjourned to July fourth, at Provi- 
 dence. 
 
 Arriving at Providence, Governor Dorr 
 was received by a large mass of citizens, 
 of whom two or three hundred were armed ; 
 in an undress uniform, and a sword at 
 his side, the hero of the day was conducted 
 through the principal streets of the city, 
 in an elegant barouche drawn by four 
 white horses. In this triumphal style, he 
 proceeded to the house of Burrington 
 Anthony, where he took up his quarters, 
 protected by a military guard, and two small 
 pieces of artillery. Governor Dorr soon 
 issued a proclamation, in which, after stat- 
 ing that the president had intimated an 
 intention of resorting to the forces of the 
 United States to check the movements of 
 
 the people of Rhode Island in sup})ort 
 of their republican constitution recently 
 adopted, he. Dorr, declared that, so soon 
 as a soldier of the United States should 
 be set in motion for any such purpose, he 
 should oppose said force by that aid which, 
 he was autliorized to say, would be imme- 
 diately forthcoming from the city of New 
 York and elsewhere. The military were 
 enjoined to see that no more arrests were 
 made under the Algerine law, and the 
 militia were directed to hold themselves in 
 readiness for immediate service. 
 
 Thus, it became evident that the adlier- 
 ents to the charter and the adherents to 
 the constitution were soon to be brought 
 face to face, force being opposed to force. 
 
 It was ordered by King and his council 
 that Dorr should be taken, if possible, 
 before the day closed. With this view, 
 expresses were dispatched into all parts of 
 the state, and a steam-boat sent to touch at 
 Newport, Bristol, and Warren, to bring 
 help in behalf of the charter government ; 
 the boat, arriving in the morning, brought 
 a large body of men, who were at once 
 joined to King's forces, and prepared for 
 the field of battle. Some aid also came to 
 Dorr, and the prospect was that a bloody 
 fight would occur. 
 
 At an early hour. King, with a body of 
 his men, marched into the very midst of 
 the suffrage throng, without molestation, 
 and surrounded Mr. Anthony's house, — 
 Dorr's quarters. A detachment then went 
 into the house, but, on searching, Dorr 
 could nowhere be found. He had, it was 
 reported, left town. A portion of the 
 cadets volunteered to go in jjursuit of him. 
 They instantly mounted, determined to 
 take him wherever he could be found, but 
 were misinformed as to his route, and 
 returned after having gone in the direction 
 of the Norwich and Worcester railroad, a 
 distance of twenty miles. He felt keenly 
 the result of the arsenal affair, and the 
 failure of his forces to come up to the 
 mark. 
 
 The leaders, on the part of the suffrage 
 party, had dismissed their men, and ad- 
 vised them to retire peaceably from the 
 
412 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ground. A large body left the scene, in 
 compliance with this request. Others 
 were on the ground to a large number, 
 and around the cannons, on the arrival of 
 the body of citizens under King. Many 
 in the suffrage ranks cried out ^' fire,''^ but 
 there was no attempt in reality to obstruct 
 the passage of King's men in surrounding 
 the house and taking possession of the 
 ground. The landholders, under the di- 
 rection of the United States marshal, at 
 the instance of the national authorities, 
 took the guns and arms from the suffrage 
 
 men as they passed through the streets on 
 their way home. 
 
 It being jjretty generally understood 
 that Dorr had gone to Connecticut, a 
 requisition was made by King upon Gov- 
 ernor Cleveland, of that state, for his ren- 
 dition, but unsuccessfully. A reward was 
 also offered for the capture of Dorr and 
 his delivery to the charter authorities, for 
 trial on charges of treason. But all this 
 was ineffectual. Indeed, the fugitive rap- 
 idly became illustrious out of his own state, 
 to a degree far beyond his experience at 
 home. Meetings of sympathy for him and 
 his cause were held in several of the large 
 
 cities; and the legislature of Maine, act- 
 ing at the suggestion of Governor Fair- 
 field, passed resolutions of a similar spirit. 
 But, notwithstanding the defeat and dis- 
 persion of the suffrage forces on the eight- 
 eenth of May, and the disappearance of 
 Dorr, no means or efforts were being 
 spared by the latter to rally his friends 
 around him in sufficient numbers to insure 
 a safe return to the state and a reasser- 
 tion of the suj)remacy of the people's con- 
 stitution. 
 
 In a few weeks, the suffrage friends had 
 entrenched themselves at Alcot's hill, 
 Chepachet, a village in the town of 
 Gloucester, and here, by proclamation 
 from Dorr, the legislature was sum- 
 moned to meet on the fourth of July. 
 The exj^ectation was now general, 
 throughout the state, that matters 
 were hourly coming to a final test. 
 In anticipation of this, martial law 
 was declared by King, and every 
 available soldier was at once put into 
 the ranks, soon numbering several 
 thousand. Business Avas suspended, 
 ^ and the alarming state of things ab- 
 sorbed all thought and action. Ma- 
 jor General William Gibbs McNeill 
 was in command of the landholders' 
 army. Dorr arrived at the encamp- 
 ment of his followers, at two o'clock 
 in the morning, his force, however, 
 numbering scarcely one-fourth that 
 of his opponents, though he was well 
 supplied with field-jijieces, arms, and 
 ammunition ; there were four large mar- 
 quees, and some of the men were quartered 
 in a barn. The encampment occupied a 
 fine location, the hill being eighty feet 
 high and commanding the Providence 
 turnpike, for the whole range of cannon. 
 
 At about half-past four o'clock the next 
 morning, General McNeill caused a body 
 of five hundred men, under Colonel W. W. 
 Brown, to proceed from Greenville to Che- 
 pachet, a distance of about eight miles. 
 A scout party of the infantry, of about a 
 dozen men, led by Lieutenant Pitman, 
 kept in advance a half a mile to two miles. 
 They took and sent to the rear, thirtj- per- 
 
GREAT AND IMEMOKABLE EVENTS. 
 
 413 
 
 v^.-* 
 
 -»v^. 
 
 WS^;.. -^ 
 
 "'^P^ 
 
 ^U'-'S 
 
 .^: 
 
 ^=^5 
 
 •TpS 
 
 ^j^ 
 
 iii 
 
 ^^xT 
 
 sons, in the course of 
 the march, all fugitives from the Che- 
 pachet camp. Upon arriving near the 
 fortification, it was evident that the 
 force had materially decreased ; so 
 much so, that the scout party, without 
 waiting for the advance of the main 
 body, determined on entering the forti- 
 fication alone. No resistance ivas 
 made ! The men fled in confusion, and 
 the scout party took possession with- 
 out firing a gun. The fortifi- 
 cation proved to be quite inade- 
 quate for any hostile military 
 operations. The main body 
 immediately arrived, and, the 
 village being now entirely in 
 their power, escape was impos- 
 sible, and a large num- 
 ber of prisoners were / 
 taken, and a ,,^ / 
 
 gy til 
 
 \^M. 
 
 Si^'i 
 
 ^f 
 
 ^-_ 
 
 ~>. 
 
 ¥': 
 
 'M 
 
 _ —'f/ 
 
 j: 
 
 ^'C'f- 
 
 FINAL DISPERSI02J OF GOV. DOKK AND HIS FORCES. 
 
 considerable quantity 
 of arms. Dorr fled to 
 Connecticut, accompa- 
 nied by a f3w of his 
 soldiers. Governor 
 King offered, again, 
 a large reward for Gov- 
 ernor Dorr's capture, 
 but he found safe quar- 
 ters in Connecticut 
 and New Hampshire, 
 until he voluntarily re- 
 turned. The authorities of the state 
 at once took him into custody, and 
 an indictment for high treason hav- 
 ing been found against him, he was 
 tried, and a verdict of guilty being ren- 
 dered, he was sentenced to be impris- 
 oned for life. In 1847, however, Hon. 
 IJyron Dinman being then governor of 
 the state, Mr. Dorr was pardoned ; and 
 in 1853, during the administration of 
 Governor Allen, the legislature restored 
 
414 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 him to full citizenship, and his friends also 
 caused the official record of his sentence to 
 be expunged. His death occurred the 
 next year, but not until the measures he 
 had espoused were, in good part, engrafted 
 upon the political system of his state, and 
 the party with which he was identified 
 administering its public affairs. 
 
 Similar, in some of its features, to the 
 rebellion in Rhode Island, was the anti- 
 rent insurrection in the state of New 
 York, the origin and character of Avhich, 
 as set forth by Willard, the historian, will 
 sufficiently appear in the following brief 
 statement : 
 
 Under the early Dutch government of 
 that state, certain settlers received patents 
 of considerable tracts of land, that of Van 
 Rensselaer being the most extensive, — 
 comprising, as it did, the greater portion 
 of Albany and Rensselaer counties These 
 lands were divided into farms of from one 
 hundred to one hundred and sixty acres, 
 and leased in perpetuity on condition that 
 the tenant pay annually, to the landlord 
 or 'patroon,' a quantity of wheat, from 
 twenty-two and a half bushels to ten, with 
 four fat fowls, and a day's service with 
 wagon and horses. If the tenant sold his 
 lease, the landlord was entitled to one 
 quarter of the purchase money. The land- 
 
 lord was also entitled to certain privileges 
 on all water power, and a right to all 
 mines. 
 
 The summer of 1844 witnessed the most 
 violent disturbances by the anti-rent party 
 in the eastern towns of Rensselaer, and 
 the Livingston Manor in Columbia county. 
 The anti-renters formed themselves into as- 
 sociations to resist the law, and armed and 
 trained bands, disguised as Indians, scoured 
 the country, crying " Down with the 
 Rent ! " and, in various ways, intimidating 
 those who favored the execution of the 
 law. In 1846, Silas Wright was chosen 
 governor of the state, and by his wisdom 
 and firmness public order was restored. 
 By proclamation, he declared the localit}'^ in 
 which these disorders prevailed, to be in a 
 a state of insurrection ; resolute men were 
 made sheriffs, military force was brought 
 into requisition, and the leading anti-rent- 
 ers arraigned for trial. Some of these, 
 convicted of murder, were condemned to 
 death, but their punishment commuted to 
 imprisonment for life. Throughout the 
 whole of this exciting period, there were 
 multitudes who sympathized with those 
 who opposed the collection of the rents, 
 but who withheld all countenance from 
 those measures of lawless resistance, to 
 which the more violent resorted. 
 
XLVII. 
 
 MUTINY ON BOAKD THE UNITED STATES BRIG-OF-WAR, 
 SOMERS, CAPTAIN A. S. MACKENZIE.— 1842. 
 
 Deep-Laid Plot to Seize the 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. 
 — The Chief Conspirators Hung at the Yard-Arni. — 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 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. 
 
 "I am leagued to eet poeseBsion of the vessel, murder the coniTnander and officere, 
 choose from among tlie crew who are willing to join me such as will be useful, murder 
 the rest, and commence pirating; to attacic no vessels that I am not sure to capture; 
 to destroy every vestige of the captured vessels; and to select such of the female passen- 
 gers as are suitable, and, after using them sufficiently, to dispoie of them."— Spencer's 
 Declaration. 
 
 EEISTLY 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 
 Soraers, 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 BLACK FLAG. was no less a person than Midshipman Philip Spen- 
 
 cer, son of the distinguished statesman, Hon. John C. Spencer, of New York, secretary- 
 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 
 parallel or precedent; and, surel}^, 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 which place she sailed on the eleventh of Novem- 
 ber, intending to proceed home via St. Thomas. It was on Saturday, the twenty-sixth 
 of November, that Lieutenant Gansevoort went into the cabin and informed Captain 
 Mackenzie that a conspiracy 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 
 
416 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 liad just informed him that Mr. Wales, 
 his steward, had approached liim as if to 
 converse on their joint duty, and revealed 
 to him, for the i)urj)ose 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 
 
 7)ian 
 
 o)f 
 
 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 M^as leagued with about twenty of the 
 orew 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 seamanshij) 
 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 liis 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 sliow to Mr. 
 Wales in the morning. On separating, 
 
 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 be 
 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 day 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 relaxation 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 aj^plying 
 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 was 
 seen in secret and nightly conferences, and 
 to l)oth of these he had given money, as 
 well as to others of the crew ; he had dis- 
 tributed tobacco extensively among the 
 apprentices, in defiance of reiterated 
 orders ; corrupting the wardroom steward, 
 he caused him to steal brandy from the 
 wardroom mess, with which Sj^encer not 
 only got drunk himself, but administered 
 it to several of the crew. Though servile 
 in his intercourse with Captain Mackenzie, 
 
GREAT A2TD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 417 
 
 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 tiftie Jte drew a brig with a black 
 flafj, and asked one of the midshipmen 
 what he thought of it; he repeatedly 
 asserted, in the early p irt 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 — 
 
 iclaX^ c/fiojcyfdit.'^^y^-e_ 
 
 " I learn, Mr. Spencer, that you aspire 
 to the command of the Somers." 
 
 " Oh no, sir," replied Spencer, with a 
 deferential, but unmoved and gently smil- 
 ing expression. 
 
 " Did you not tell Mr. Wales, sir, that 
 27 
 
 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 was 
 in joke." 
 
 "You admit, then, that you told him 
 so?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, but in joke ! " 
 
 "Tliis, sir, is joking on a forbidden sub- 
 ject — this joke may cost you your life ! 
 Be pleased to remove your neck handker- 
 chief." 
 
 "What have j'^ou done with the paper 
 containing an account of your project, 
 which you told Mr. Wales was in the back 
 of your neck handkerchief?" — nothing 
 being now found in it. 
 
 "It is a paper containing my day's 
 work, and I have destroyed it." 
 
 " It is a singular place to keep days' 
 work in." 
 
 "It is a convenient one," was the defer- 
 ential and bland reply. 
 
 "You must have been aware that you 
 could only have compassed your designs 
 by passing over my dead bod}^, and after 
 that the bodies of all the officers. You 
 had given yourself, 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 iro7is." 
 
 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 Avith 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- 
 
418 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 kept 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 
 tiie 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 Captain 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 
 suspicion, 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 company, 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 minds of the 
 slightly disaffected from the pictures of 
 successful vice which the piratical plot 
 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 fi-om tranquil- 
 lized. The most seriously implicated 
 began once more to collect in knots during 
 the night. Seditious words were heard 
 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 suspected, 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 interruption and without food, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 419 
 
 the officers continued in their occuiiation a 
 whole day, and the unam:)ious result of 
 their deliberations tvas, that Spencer, 
 Cromivell, and Small should he jmt 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, 
 
 ^^ My lads ! you are to look at me — to 
 obey my orders — and to see my orders 
 obeyed! Go forward ."' 
 
 The captain now gave orders that imme- 
 diate preparations be made for hanging the 
 three principal criminals at the main yard- 
 arm ; 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 painful 
 duty that had ever devolved on an Ameri- 
 can commander — that of announcing to 
 the criminals their fate. To Spencer he 
 said: 
 
 " When you 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 worid, in the darkness of the 
 night, in my sleep, without a moment to 
 utter one whisper of affection to my wife 
 and children — one praj-er for their welfare. 
 Your life is now forfeited to your country ; 
 and the necessities of the case, growing 
 out of 3'our 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 
 yet remains to 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 ]\[ac- 
 kenzie repeated to him his own catechism, 
 and begged him at least to let the offircr 
 set to the ?»en he had corrupted and se- 
 duced, the example of d^'ing 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 sa^'', I 
 trust they will be believed: Cromwell is 
 innocent ! " Though the evidence liad 
 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 
 
420 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 by acclamation by them all, as the 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 
 us the poltroon 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 mj' i^oor 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 
 tliey 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 chiefly 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 oflfi- 
 cers, his messmates included, except the 
 boys, and tlieir 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 no 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 brouglit 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 3'ou 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 tlie 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 forgiveness. 
 
 More than an hour was occupied in this 
 scene. The petty officers had been as- 
 signed, according to rank, to conduct tlie 
 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 on 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 421 
 
 HANUINO OF 
 
 J^^^g either side. The captain directec. 
 
 ^^^M Cromwell to stop, to allow Spen- 
 ^^^^^^J car to pass first. At this mo- 
 ^^^^^ ment Spencer himself paused, 
 ^^^^P ^^^ ^^^^ed to be allowed to see 
 
 -^J:^^B ^^^' ^^^^^^' ^6 ^^'f^s called, and 
 ^^g^g Cromwell now passed on, almost 
 ^^^^^^^^g touching Spencer. When Mr. 
 ^^E^^^H Wales came up, Spencer ex- 
 tended his hand to him and said, 
 "Mr. Wales, I earnesthj hope 
 you will forgive me for tamjjer- 
 ing tvith you r fidelity ! " 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; 
 ^ =, . -. -^ .. - , 1^ ^» and Mr. Wales, weeping, and causing others 
 
 Kx^GLEAx>E«r*«oM-THK vAicD-AKM. to Weep, rcsponded "Farewell!'' 
 
422 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Spencer now passed on. At the gang- 
 way he 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. 
 '• JV'o, hy God ! Mr. Spencer, I canH for- 
 (jloe you ! " On a rei^etition of the re- 
 quest. Small exclaimed in a searching 
 \'«)ice, " Ah, Mr. Spencer, that is a hard 
 thing for you to ask me ! We shall soon 
 be before the face of God, and then 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 you 
 also!" After some farewell words with 
 Captain Mackenzie, he said, turning to 
 those who held the ship, " Now^ brother 
 topniates, give me a quick and easy death!" 
 He was placed on the hammocks forward 
 of the gangway, with 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 man. 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 third roll fire a gun. Spen- 
 cer asked to be allowed himself to give the 
 word to fire the gun ; this request was 
 gi-anted, and the drum and fife were dis- 
 missed. He asked if the gun was under 
 biin, and was told that it was next but 
 one to him. He begged that no interval 
 might elapse between giving the word 
 
 and firing the gun. Captain Mackenzie 
 asked if they were firing with the lock and 
 wafer, which had always proved quick and 
 sure, but was told that they had a tube and 
 priming, and were prepared to fire with a 
 match. Some delay would have ensued, 
 to open the arm chest and get out a wafer. 
 The captain ordered a supplj' of live coals 
 to be passed up from the galley, and fresh 
 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 word, 
 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 was 
 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 you ? " 
 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 Avhich his 
 eye could take in everything, and waited 
 for some 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. Tlce gun tvas 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 423 
 
 capture ; to destroy every vestige of the 
 captured vessels ; and to select such of the 
 female passengers as are suitable, and, 
 after using them sufficiently, 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 hands 
 called to cheer the ship. Captain Mac- 
 kenzie himself gave the order — " Stand hij 
 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 crew were again 
 impressively addressed by Captain Mac- 
 kenzie, and, in conclusion, he told them 
 that as they had shown that they could 
 give cheers for their country, they should 
 now give cheers to their God, — for they 
 
 would do this when they sang praises 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 that joyous 
 song of adoration, the hundredth psalm, 
 sung by all the officers and crew. 
 
 On the arrival home, of the Somers, the 
 tragedy was investigated by a court of 
 inquiry, consisting of Commodores Stewart, 
 Jacob Jones, and Dallas, and Captain 
 Mackenzie's course was fully approved. 
 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 popular opinion was greatly in his 
 favor. 
 
XL VIII. 
 
 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 
 Lengtli. — Almost Grazes the Sun, and, after Wliirling Around that Orb with Prodigious Velocity, 
 Approaches the Earth with a Fearful Momentum — Its Mysterious Disappearance in the Unknown 
 Keaims and Depths of Space. — Most Notable of all Comets. — First Visible in the Day-time — Its 
 Conspicuous Aspect. — Strange and Threatening Motion — Its Course Towards the Sun. — Their 
 Supposed Contact. — Becomes Ked 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 pathleat comet. 
 
 The menace of the universe; 
 Btill rolling on with innate force. 
 Without a sphere, without a coune." 
 
 'SUALLY, the name or word 'comet' is applied to bodies which 
 appear in the heavens with a train, or tail, of light ; but it is 
 now not uncommon to apply the term to those heavenly bodies, 
 beyond the limits of the earth's atmosphere, which are nebulous 
 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 admiration. 
 
 Without dwelling upon the appearance of those comets which antedate the year 
 1800, or upon the corruscations, 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 eye, 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 425 
 
 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 part}'^ 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 await us ! " 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, tv/o 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 ajjpearance 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 strongly 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 the 
 sun, the only measurement, with one ex- 
 ception, known to have been made in any 
 part of the globe before the third of 
 
426 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 March. He found that the distance of 
 tlie 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 March. 
 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 presented a most ynagnificent 
 .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 double 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 newspapers of that date, 
 Monday, stating that a comet ivas visible 
 near the sun at mid-day with 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 
 Avas 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 seairch 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, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 427 
 
 a narrow streak of cloud, seen through the 
 tree-tops bevond the Potomac. The tail 
 had 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 sun still glittered in 
 the horizon ; and at this moment, a well 
 defined pencil of hairy light was seen 
 pointing towards the sun. Soon sifter 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- 
 delphia, 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 tliis time. In one day — that is, 
 from twelve hours before, to twelve hours 
 after perihelion passage, — it made two 
 hundred and ninety-one degrees of anom- 
 aly ; 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. When 
 first discovered, many were unwilling to 
 believe it a comet, because it had no head. 
 The head was probably nowhere seen by 
 the naked eye after the first days of March. 
 At the close of March, the head was so 
 faint as to render observations somewhat 
 difficult even with a good telescope, while 
 the tail might still be followed by the 
 
 \1E\\ OF THE GREAT COMET WHEN WEAKEST THE EAUTU. 
 
 omers, however, computed 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 passed round 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 (/razed the 
 su7i; 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 
 twent^'-eighth of February, it was thirty- 
 five millions of miles, and its greatest 
 visible length was one hundred and eight 
 millions, namel}-, on the twenty-first of 
 JVIarch. Stars were easily distinguishable 
 
428 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 429 
 
 through the luminous train. The visible 
 portion of the tail attained 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 
 diminution of length. The tail was 
 turned nearly toward the eartli on the 
 night of February twenty-seventh, in such 
 a direction, that had it reached the earth's 
 orbit, it would have passed fifteen mil- 
 lions of miles south of us. 
 
 In regard to the extraordinary bril- 
 liancy of this comet, on the twenty-eighth 
 of February, it was the opinion of Profes- 
 sor Loomis — and no one's opinion could 
 have greater authority or weight than 
 his, — that this was due to the comet's 
 proximity to th-i sun. Tlie day before, 
 it had almost gr'ized the sun's disc. The 
 heat it received, according to the computa- 
 tions of Sir John Herschel, must have 
 been forty-seven thousand times that re- 
 ceived by the earth from a vertical sun ! 
 The rays of the sun united in the focus 
 of a lens thirty-two inches in diameter, 
 and six feet eight inches focal length, have 
 melted carnelian, agate and rock crystal. 
 The heat to which the comet was sub- 
 jected must have exceeded by twenty-five 
 times that in the focus of such a lens. 
 Such a temperature would have converted 
 into vapor almost every substance on the 
 earth's surface ; and if anytliing retained 
 the solid form, it would be in a state of 
 intense ignition. The comet on the 
 twentj'-eighth of February was red hot, 
 and, for some days after its perihelion, it 
 retained a peculiar fieri/ appearance. In 
 the equatorial regions, the tail is described 
 as resembling a stream of fire from a fur- 
 nace. 
 
 Such are some of the principal facts 
 concerning this most wonderful comet of 
 modern times, according to the investiga- 
 tions made by Loomis, — also by Bond, 
 Walker, Mitchell, Joslin, Hitchcock, and 
 others, and which is significantly and de- 
 servedly called " the Great Comet." 
 
 In 1847, another remarkable comet, 
 visible to the naked eye, made its appear- 
 
 ance in the constellation Andromeda. In 
 the early part of February, it shone as a 
 star of the fourth magnitude, with a tail 
 extending about four degrees from the 
 nucleus. The distance of the comet from 
 the sun's surface, on the evening of March 
 thirtieth, was only about three and a half 
 millions of miles. The cometic nebulosity 
 was about sixty-five thousand miles in 
 diameter, and that of the more condensed 
 central part, eight thousand miles. The 
 length of tail was far less than that of the 
 comet of 1843. Of this comet, a full page 
 plate illustrates this article, showing, in a 
 peculiar manner, the supernal splendor 
 characterizing this mysterious order of the 
 heavenly bodies. 
 
 The comet of 1853 was clearly visible 
 to the naked eye, and had a well de- 
 fined nucleus and tail. On investigation, 
 astronomers failed to identify this comet 
 with any previous one. Its brilliant 
 nucleus and long train mg,de it very con- 
 spicuous, — indeed, one of the largest and 
 most beautiful on record. The actual 
 diameter of the bright nucleus was eight 
 thousand miles, or about equal to that of 
 the earth. Its nearest distance to the 
 earth at any one time was sixty-eight 
 millions of miles. 
 
 In September, 1858, Donati's celebrated 
 comet made its appearance, and was for 
 weeks a wonder in the skies, at which the 
 whole nation gazed with deej^ and intense 
 interest. The great astronomers, Loomis, 
 Peirce, George P. Bond, William C. Bond, 
 Tuttle, Norton, Hubbard, Safford, and 
 Gould, made learned observations of the 
 celestial visitor. The nucleus was very 
 brilliant, the tail prodigious. A star of 
 the first magnitude might have rivaled 
 the illumination of this comet, but noth- 
 ing less was worthy a comparison. The 
 tail had a curve like a scimitar ; but its 
 end was shadowy, faint, tremulous, and 
 uncertain. The view from twilight until 
 deep dark, was magnificent. On the 
 twentieth of October, the first of a series 
 of extraordinary phenomena manifested 
 itself in the region contiguous to the nu- 
 cleus. A crescent-shaped outline, obscure 
 
430 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 and very narrow, was interspersed, like a 
 screen, between the nucleus and the sun ; 
 within this, instead of a softly-blended 
 nebulous light, indicative of an undis- 
 turbed condition of equilibrium, the fiery 
 mass was in a state of apparent commo- 
 tion, as though upheaved by the action of 
 violent internal forces. On the twenty- 
 third, two dark outlines were traced more 
 than half way round the nucleus, and on 
 the next evening still another. Other 
 envelopes were subsequently formed, their 
 motion of projection from the nucleus 
 being evident from night to night. The 
 rapidity of their foi'mation, and the enor- 
 mous extent to which they were ultimately 
 expanded, constituted a remarkable feat- 
 ure, difficult of explanation. The comet 
 
 TELESCOPIC VIEW OF THE COMET. 
 
 was nearest to the sun — fifty-five millions 
 of miles, — September thirtieth ; nearest 
 to the earth — fifty-two millions of miles, 
 — October twelfth. Its tail was fifty-one 
 millions of miles in length. 
 
 So sudden was the apparition of the 
 splendid comet of 1861, that though observ- 
 ations made at Harvard college observa- 
 tory', June twenty-ninth, failed to detect it, 
 it was, on the succeeding evening, the most 
 conspicuous object in the western sky. On 
 
 the second of July, after twilight, the 
 head, to the naked eye, appeared much 
 brighter than a star of the first magni- 
 tude, — about the same in brightness as 
 the great comet of 1858. The aspect of 
 the tail was that of a narrow, straight 
 ray, projected to a distance of one hun- 
 dred and six degrees from the nucleus, 
 being easily distinguishable quite up to 
 the borders of the milky way. The 
 boundaries, for the most part, were well 
 defined, and easily traced among the 
 stars. Further observations on the tail 
 made it evident that a diffuse, dim light, 
 with very uncertain outlines, apparently 
 composed of hazy filaments, swept off in 
 a strong curve towards the stars in the 
 tail of Ursa Major. This was evidently 
 a broad, curved tail, intersected on its 
 curved side at the distance of a few de- 
 grees from the nucleus or head, by the 
 long straight ray, which, at the first 
 glance, from its greatly superior bright- 
 ness, seemed alone to constitute the tail. 
 The whole issue of nebulous matter from 
 the nucleus far into the tail was curiously 
 grooved and striated. On the second of 
 Julv, portions of three luminous en- 
 velopes were visible. They rapidly faded, 
 or were lost in the surrounding haze, and 
 their places were filled by new ones. The 
 investigations of Messrs. Safford, Hall, 
 and Tuttle, show the diameter of the head 
 of this comet to have been variously esti- 
 mated at from one hundred and fifty to 
 three or four hundred miles. On the 
 second of July, the breadth of the head 
 of the nucleus was one hundred and fifty- 
 six thousand miles, and the length of the 
 tail about fifteen millions of miles. 
 
XLIX. 
 EXPECTED DESTRUCTION OF THE WORLD.— 1843. 
 
 Miller's Exciting Prediction of the Second Advent of Christ. — Tiie Speedy Fulfillment of the Latter- 
 Day Bible Prophecies Boldly Declared — Zealous Promulgation of His Views — Scores of Thousands 
 of Converts. — Public Feeling Intensely Wrought Upon.— Preparations by Many for the Coming 
 Event.— The Passing of the Time.— Miller's Apology and Defense — His Deism in Early Life. — 
 Studies History and Scripture. — Is Struck by the Prophecies. — Reads Daniel and John Critically. — 
 Calculates Their Time. — " About 1843 " the Consummation. — Basis of these Conclusions. — Reluc- 
 tantly Begins to Lecture. — Interesting Incident. — His Labors and Enthusiasm. — Three Thousand Lec- 
 tures in Ten Years. — Secret of His Great Success — Approach of the Final Day. — Cessation of Secular 
 Pursuits. — Encamping in the Fields, in Grave-yards and on Koofs — Some Curious Extravagances. 
 — Rebuked by Miller. — Repeated Disappointments. — Misinterpretation of Texts. — Miller, as a Man 
 and Preacher. — His Calm and Happy Death. 
 
 "T confess my error, and acknowledse my disappointment; yet I still believe that the day of the Lord is near, eTen at the door." — Mit- 
 
 LEK'S Fl.NAL WOKDS TO lll.S i'O l.l.l) W KUS. 
 
 EW men have attained a wider 
 name or more rapid and remark- 
 able note, in the American relig- 
 ious world, than Eev. William 
 Miller, " the prophet," — as he was 
 familiarly called, — founder of the 
 sect called by his name, and also 
 hnown as ** Second Adventists." 
 A sketch of the public career of 
 Mr. Miller, and of the biblical 
 grounds upon which he based his 
 earnest and confident prediction of 
 the end of the world ahotit the 
 year 1843, together with some 
 account of the extraordinary 
 scenes which characterized that 
 exciting period, — participated in 
 THE GREAT DAY PROPHESIED liY THE SECOND ADVKNTisTs. by tcus of tliousauds of ardeut and 
 enthusiastic believers in Mr. Miller's views, — will be found in the following pages. 
 
 Mr. Miller was born in Pittsfield, Mass., in 1782, and, when he was four years of age, 
 his father removed to Low Hampton, in the state of New York. At the age of twenty- 
 two, he settled in Poultney, Vt., and was a deputy-sheriff for that county. Taking 
 
432 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 a military turn, lie received from Governor 
 Galusha a lieutenant's commission, and, on 
 the breaking out of the second war with 
 England, he was made captain, by Presi- 
 ident Madison. He remained in the 
 United States army until the declaration 
 of peace, taking a courageous part in the 
 action at Plattsburg, where the British 
 were so sorely worsted. After the close of 
 the war, he returned to his home, where 
 for several years he held the office of a jus- 
 tice of the peace. 
 
 In the community where he lived, Mr. 
 Miller was regarded with much esteem, as 
 a benevolent, intelligent man, and a kind 
 neighbor. He had only a common school 
 education, but was a person of more than 
 ordinary talent. In his religious views, 
 Mr. Miller was an avowed deist, until 
 about his thirty-fourth year, when his 
 views and feelings experienced such a 
 change as led him to unite with the Bap- 
 tist church. For many years he was a 
 most assiduous student of history and the 
 scriptures, in the study of which he be- 
 came impressed with the conviction that 
 the fifth monarchy predicted by Daniel to 
 be given to the people of the saints of the 
 Most High, under the whole heaven, for 
 an everlasting possession, — as represented 
 in the seventh chapter of that prophecy — 
 was about to be consummated. 
 
 His views — though he at no time claimed 
 to be, in any sense, a prophet, — were sub- 
 stantially as follows : That Jesus Christ 
 will ajjpear a second time in 1843, in the 
 clouds of heaven ; that he would then raise 
 the righteous dead, and judge them 
 together with the righteous living, who 
 would be caught up to meet him in the 
 air; that he would purify the earth with 
 fire, causing the wicked and all their 
 works to be consumed in the general con- 
 flagration, and would shut up their souls 
 in the place prepared for the devil and his 
 angels; that the saints would live and 
 reign with Christ, on the new earth, a thou- 
 sand years ; that then Satan and the 
 wicked spirits would be let loose, and the 
 wicked dead be raised — this being the 
 second resurrection, — and, being judged. 
 
 should make war upon the saints, be 
 defeated, and cast down to hell forever. 
 
 It hecommg known that he entertained 
 these views, he was importuned by many 
 to write out his opinions, and afterwards 
 to go before the public with them. After 
 declining so to do for a long time, he at 
 length complied, by writing a series of 
 articles, in 1831, in the Vermont Tele- 
 graph. In 1832, he sent forth a synopsis 
 of his views in a pamphlet, and subse- 
 quently, in obedience to conscientious con- 
 victions of duty, he commenced as a public 
 lecturer on prophecy. 
 
 He thus describes his reluctance to 
 appear in public, and the occasion of his 
 first attempt : "One Saturday, after break- 
 fast, in the summer of 1833, I sat down at 
 my desk to examine some point, and as I 
 arose to go out to work, it came home to 
 me with more force than ever, ' Go and tell 
 it to the world.' The impression was so 
 sudden, and came with such force, that I 
 settled down into my chair, saying, 'I 
 can't go, Lord.' ' Why not ? ' seemed to 
 be the response ; and then all my excuses 
 came up, my want of ability, etc. ; but my 
 distress became so great, I entered into a 
 solemn covenant with God, that, if he 
 would open the way, I would go and per- 
 form my duty to the world. ' What do 
 you mean by opening the way?' seemed 
 to come to me. ' Why,' said I, ' if I should 
 have an invitation to speak publiclj^ in 
 any place, I will go and tell them what I 
 find in the Bible about the Lord's coming.' 
 Instantly all my burden was gone, and I 
 rejoiced that I should not probably be thus 
 called upon, for I had never had such an 
 invitation. My trials were not known, 
 and I liad but little expectation of being 
 invited to any field of labor. In about 
 half an hour from this time, before I had 
 left the room, a son of Mr. Guilford, of 
 Dresden, about sixteen miles from my res- 
 idence, came in and said that his father 
 had sent for me, and wished me to go 
 home with him. Supposing that he wished 
 to see me on some business, I asked him 
 what he wanted. He replied, that there 
 was to be no preaching in their church the 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 433 
 
 next clay, and liis father wished to have 
 me come and talk to the people on tlie 
 subject of the Lord's coming. I avus 
 immediately angry with myself for having 
 made the covenant I had; I rebelled at 
 once against the Lord, and determined 
 not to go. I left the boy, without giving 
 him any answer, and retired in great dis- 
 tress to a grove near by. There I strug- 
 gled with the Lord for about an hour, 
 endeavoring to release myself from the 
 covenant I had made with him, but could 
 get no relief. It was impressed upon my 
 
 at the close of a lecturing tour in the spring 
 of 1843, Mr. Miller remarks in his journal, 
 tliat, up to that time, he had given three 
 thousand two hundred lectures ! 
 
 An interesting reminiscence of Mr. 
 Miller's early career, is related by his 
 biographer as having occurred soon after 
 the publication of his views in pamphlet 
 form. As he was passing down the 
 Hudson river, in a steam-boat, a company 
 of men standing near him were conversing 
 resi^ecting the wonderful improvements of 
 the day. One of them remarked, that it 
 
 Ctv 
 
 .'■■"■''x ."j<"t1^ 
 
 '^ ' '^-£?"^^ ■ "Z. .. /•'"■■•- "■'lj'l'""i"ilr'\ K"'} 
 
 SYMBOLICAL ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE SECOND ADVENT PROPHECIES. 
 
 
 ■^^^ 
 
 conscience, ' Will you make a covenant 
 with God, and break it so soon ? ' and the 
 exceeding sinfulness of thus doing over- 
 whelmed me. I finally submitted ; and 
 promised the Lord that if he would sustain 
 me, I Avould go, trusting in him to give 
 me grace and ability to i)erform all he 
 should require of me. I returned to tlie 
 house, and found the boy still waiting; he 
 remained till after dinner, and I returned 
 with him to Dresden." Such was the be- 
 ginning. And yet, ten years after, namely, 
 ^28 
 
 was imj^ossible for things to progress, for 
 thirty years to come, in the same ratio that 
 they had done; "for," said he, "man will 
 attain to something more than human." 
 Mr. Miller replied to him, that it reminded 
 him of Dan. 12: 4, — 'Many shall run to 
 and fro, and knowledge shall be increased.' 
 A pause ensuing, Mr. Miller continued, 
 and observed that the improvements of the 
 present day were just what we should 
 expect at this time, in the fulfillment of 
 Daniel's prophecy. He then commenced 
 
434 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 with the eleventli cliapter of Daniel, and, 
 comparing the prophecy witli the history, 
 showed its fulfilhiient — all listening with 
 close attention. He then remarked, that 
 he had not intended trespassing so long 
 on their patience, and, leaving them, 
 walked to the other end of the boat. The 
 entire company followed, and wished to 
 hear more on the subject. He then took 
 up the second, seventh, eighth and ninth 
 chapters of Daniel. His hearers wished 
 to know if he had ever written on the sub- 
 ject. He told them he had published the 
 above pamphlet, and distributed among 
 them what copies he had with him. This 
 was one of his first audiences, and some 
 gentlemen of high standing listened to his 
 remarks. 
 
 In 1836, a volume of Mr. Miller's lec- 
 tures was published and widely circulated. 
 Early in 1838, a copy of these lectures fell 
 into the hands of Rev. J. Litch, a talented 
 minister of the Methodist Episcopal 
 church, who soon after published a pam- 
 phlet entitled the Midnight Cry, proclaim- 
 ing the second coming of Christ about the 
 year 1843. He also commenced preaching 
 the same doctrine, with great success, and 
 published several works of marked ability. 
 Another prominent receiver of the doctrine 
 was Rev. J. V. Himes, an accomplished 
 preacher of the Christian Connection, and 
 whose writings on the newly promulgated 
 views evinced much power of reasoning 
 and scholarly research. 
 
 The volume of lectures by Mr. Miller 
 had a large circulation, as did also the 
 publication called the Signs of the Times. 
 In October, 1840, the first general confer- 
 ence of Second Advent believers was held 
 in Chardon street chapel, Boston. During 
 the winter of 1841 — 1842, conferences 
 were numerous throughout New England, 
 and, in 1842, the standard was raised in 
 the city of New York, by a series of meet- 
 ings in Apollo hall, Broadway, held by 
 Messrs. Miller and Himes. During the 
 summer of that 3'ear, public excitement 
 greatly increased, and multitudes of preach- 
 ers and speakers were in the field. Finally, 
 a large tent was constructed, capable of 
 
 holding four thousand persons, in which 
 meetings were held at Concord, Albany, 
 Springfield, Newark, and other places. 
 The work spread with a power unparal- 
 leled in the history of religious move- 
 ments ; and this, notwithstanding the ridi- 
 cule and other weapons of opposition 
 wielded against it by almost all the lead- 
 ing religious and secular journalists in the 
 principal cities, whose influence was very 
 great. Perhaps the simple secret of Mr. 
 Miller'^ wonderful success, was his bring- 
 ing pn'ominently forward a somewhat neg- 
 lected but vividl}' important truth. 
 
 The number of believers had now 
 reached scores of thousands. The basis of 
 their expectation relative to the speedy 
 dissolution of the world was, that, accord- 
 ing to the results of chronological research, 
 it appeared that the captivity of Manasseh, 
 the commencement of the " seven times," 
 or 2520 years of Leviticus xxvi., was 
 B. C. 677, also the captivity of Jehoia- 
 kim, the commencement of the Grreat 
 Jubilee, or 2450 years, was B. C. 607 ; 
 also the decree to rebuild Jerusalem in the 
 seventh of Artaxerxes, the commencement 
 of the seventy weeks and 230U da3'S of 
 Daniel viii. and ix., was given B. C. 
 457 ; and also the taking away of pagan- 
 ism in Rome, the commencement of the 
 1335 days of Daniel xii. Reckoning from 
 these several dates, it was believed that the 
 respective jjeriods could extend only to 
 about the Jewish year 1843. 
 
 Thus, all the calculations of prophetic 
 time were understood by the Second Ad- 
 ventists to end in 1843. But what par- 
 ticular time, in that year, was a matter of 
 uncertainty. Some supposed one day or 
 season, some another. It was Mr. Miller's 
 opinion, that the seventy weeks ended 
 with the crucifixion, in A. D. 33; conse- 
 quently, that the whole time would end 
 with its anniversary, in 1843. Still, he was 
 not satisfied as to the exactness of the cal- 
 culation, and hence, from the outset, 
 expressed himself, "about 1843;" indeed, 
 in the year 1839, he remarked that he w^as 
 not /»osiYive that the event would trans- 
 pire in the spring of 1843 — he should 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 435 
 
 claim the whole of the Jewish year, until 
 March 21, 1844. 
 
 But, in opposition to the views thus held 
 by Mr. Miller and his able co-laborers, 
 Himes, Litch, and other commentators, a 
 host of learned writers appeared, including 
 representatives of all the Christian denom- 
 inations — though even among these, there 
 was no slight diversity of opinion as to the 
 scope and meaning of the prophecies, and, 
 in respect to tlie correctness of some of the 
 points held by Mr. Miller, no objections 
 were advanced. The usual strain of argu- 
 ment used by the opponents of Mr. Mil- 
 ler's rendering of the scriptures was as 
 follows : — That the Lord cannot come until 
 after the millennium, during which the 
 whole world is to be righteous, and the 
 lion eat straw like the ox, etc. ; that the 
 Jews must be brought in, and restored to 
 Palestine, before that day comes ; that it 
 is to come as a thief in the night — sudden, 
 unanticipated, unlooked for ; that the 
 world and the human race being as yet in 
 their infancy, so far as moral and material 
 development is concerned, it could not be 
 reasonably expected that the Lord would 
 come to destroy the world. 
 
 But the great opposing argument 
 brought to bear against the new views, 
 was, that the vision in the eighth chapter 
 of Daniel, has nothing to 'do with the 
 coming of Christ, or setting up of God's 
 everlasting kingdom ; that Antiochus 
 Epiphanes, a S3'rian king, is the hero 
 of Daniel's vision, in the eighth chapter, 
 and that the 2300 days are but half days, 
 amounting to 1150 literal days, all of 
 which were literally fulfilled by Antiochus, 
 — his persecution of the Jews, and dese- 
 cration of the temple, about one hundred 
 and sixty years B. C. 
 
 The earliest date fixed upon by any of 
 the Adventists as a probable time for the 
 Lord's coming (as stated by Mr. Litch, 
 one of the ablest and most reliable author- 
 ities), was February tenth, forty-five years 
 from the time the French army took Rome, 
 in 1798. The next point, and the one 
 which was thought the more probable, was 
 February fifteenth, the anniversary of the 
 
 abolition of the papal government, and the 
 erection of the Roman Republic. Viewing 
 this to be the termination of the 1290 
 da^'s of Daniel xii. 11, they believed 
 forty-five years more would terminate the 
 1335 days of verse 12. Accordingly, 
 expectation with many was on tiptoe, fully 
 believing that the great day of the Lord 
 would then break upon the world. But 
 both those periods came and passed with 
 no unusual occurrence. At this result, 
 much thoughtless ridicule was indulged in 
 by some of the newspaper press, and exag- 
 gerated accounts given of the believers in 
 the doctrine waiting in their white ascen- 
 sion robes to be caught up in the air, or 
 going to the tops of the houses, or into the 
 grave-j-ards, to watch. Very few, however, 
 were so much shaken by their disappoint- 
 ment in the passing of the time, as to go 
 back and give up the doctrine. Their 
 confidence, as well as their religious sin- 
 cerity, was bej'ond suspicion. 
 
 The fifteenth of February passed, the 
 next epoch which presented itself as a 
 leading point of time, was the Passover, 
 the season of the year when the crucifix- 
 ion took place. This was looked upon by 
 many as being a strongly marked era, on 
 account of its being the occasion when 
 God delivered his people from Egypt, four 
 hundred and thirty years from Abraham's 
 sojourn — and, because on that feast the 
 crucifixion took place. This latter event, 
 according to the belief of many, ended the 
 seventy weeks of Daniel ix. 24. Hence, 
 they argued, the 2300 days would termi- 
 nate when the same feast arrived in 1843, 
 and the Savior Avould come. The four- 
 teenth of April, therefore, was a point of 
 time anticipated with the deepest solici- 
 tude by many. They had the fullest con- 
 fidence that it would not pass without 
 bringing the expected crisis. Others, 
 asain, looked forward to the season of the 
 Ascension, or Feast of Pentecost, as being 
 the most likely time for the advent. But 
 disappointment attended these, as it had 
 previous, expectations. Still, the zeal of 
 the disciples did not fail them ; and, at the 
 east, west, and south, the same enthusiasm 
 
436 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 was manifested by tlie promulgators of the 
 doctrine that " the end of all things is at 
 hand." 
 
 As already stated, Mr. Miller's expecta- 
 tions as to the time of the fulfillment of 
 the prophetic periods, extended to the 
 close of the Jewish year 1843, which would 
 be March twenty-first, 1844 ; and, on fur- 
 ther reflection, gave considerable weight 
 to the consideration that the tenth day of 
 the seventh month of the current Jewish 
 year, which, following the reckoning of the 
 Caraite Jews, fell on the twenty-second of 
 October, was the probable termination of 
 several prophetic periods, and, therefore, 
 would very likely usher in the great and 
 last day. Thus it was, that, on the sixth 
 of October, he wrote : " If Christ does not 
 come within twentij or twenty-jive days, I 
 shall feel twice the disappointment 1 did 
 in the spring^ With great unanimit}'', as 
 well as honestly and heartily, was this 
 view accepted by his followers. Indeed, 
 the feeling was everywhere intense, among 
 them. For some days preceding the time 
 designated, their secular business Avas, for 
 the most part, suspended ; and those who 
 looked for the advent, gave themselves to 
 the work of preparation for that event, as 
 they would for death, were they on a bed 
 of sickness. 
 
 In regard to the extravagances charac- 
 terizing this movement, the published 
 accounts are declared by the friends of 
 Mr. Miller to have been, for the most part, 
 gross misstatements, and that hundreds of 
 reports relating to excesses, had no found- 
 ation in fact. Even so generally fair and 
 discriminating a writer as Sir Charles 
 Lyell, who was traveling in America 
 while the advent excitement was at its 
 height, states that several houses were 
 pointed out to him, between Plymouth 
 (Massachusetts) and Boston, the owners 
 of which had been reduced from ease to 
 poverty by their credulity, having sold 
 their all toward building the Tabernacle, 
 in which they were to pray incessantly for 
 six weeks previous to their ascension. 
 Among other stories, also, industriously 
 circulated, was that of a young girl who. 
 
 having no money, was induced to sell her 
 necklace, which had been presented her 
 by her betrothed. The jeweler, seeing 
 that she was much affected at parting with 
 her treasure, and discovering the circum- 
 stances and object of the sale, showed her 
 some silver forks and spoons, on which he 
 was about to engrave the initials of the 
 very minister whose dupe she was, and 
 those of the lady he was about to marry on 
 a fixed day after the fated twenty-second 
 of October. 
 
 While traveling in New Hampshire, 
 Lyell states that he was told by a farmer 
 in one of the country villages, that, in the 
 course of the preceding autumn, many of 
 his neighbors would neither reap their 
 harvest of corn and potatoes, nor let others 
 take in the crop, saying it was tempting 
 Providence to store up grain for a season 
 that could never arrive, the great catas- 
 trophe being so near at hand. He adds, 
 that in several townships in this and the 
 adjoining states, the local officers, or se- 
 lectmen, interfered, harvesting the crops 
 at the public expense, and requiring the 
 owners, after the twenty-third of October, 
 to repay them for the outlay. So bitter 
 was the opposition in some places, that 
 offensive missiles were thrown at the pub- 
 lic speakers, and their names coupled with 
 those of such impostors as IMatthias, Gal- 
 laway, Folger, Orr, etc. 
 
 That irregularities of one kind and an- 
 other attended a religious movement so 
 wide-spread, intense and enthusiastic, as 
 this, is not to be wondered at; but it is 
 doubtless true that the majority of the 
 incidents thus circulated were the easy 
 inventions of opponents. The most nota- 
 able incident was that which occurred in 
 Philadelphia. In opposition to the earnest 
 expostulations of Mr. Litch and other 
 judicious and influential persons, a com- 
 pan}^ of about one hundred and fifty, re- 
 sponding to the pretended " vision" of one 
 Georgas, on the twenty-first of October 
 went out on the Darby street road, about 
 four miles from Market street bridge, and 
 encamped in a field under two large tents, 
 provided with all needed comforts. The 
 
GREAT AND l^EEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 437 
 
 next morning, their faith in the vision 
 having failed, all hut ahout a dozen re- 
 turned to the city ; a few days later, the 
 others returned. This act met the em- 
 phatic disapproval of JMr. Miller, and of 
 the Adventists generally. 
 
 This day, too, — the only specific day 
 which was regarded by the more intelligent 
 Adventists with any positiveness, — also 
 passed, peaceful and quiet, as other days ; 
 as, likewise, did the time in September, 
 1847, which some fixed upon, on the ground 
 that chronologers differed three or four 
 years in the dates of this world's history. 
 In reviewing these facts and results of the 
 past, Mr. Miller wrote : '' Were I to live 
 my life over again, with the same evidence 
 that I then had, to be honest with God 
 and man I should have to do as I have 
 done. I confess viij error, and acknowl- 
 edge mij disapjjomtment ; yet I still be- 
 lieve that the day of the Lord is near, 
 even at the door." 
 
 The speedy coming of the Lord, and the 
 approaching end of all things, being so fre- 
 quently and explicitly declared in scripture, 
 it is no wonder that there should continue 
 to be found a body of believers making 
 that important truth, and the duties grow- 
 ing out of it, a primary point in their 
 religion. Though less numerous than 
 formerly, they are still to be found in con- 
 siderable numbers, with many earnest 
 preachers ; their chief organ has been the 
 Advent Herald, published in Boston, and 
 conducted with much decorum and ability. 
 
 It is not surprising that a man of Mr. 
 Miller's strong and ardent temperament, 
 should live and die in the same belief 
 which he had promulgated with such evi- 
 dent sincerity ; for, while acknowledging, 
 as events proved, the want of accuracy in 
 his chronological calculations — he still 
 claimed, to the end of his days, that the 
 nature and nearness of the crisis were sus- 
 tained by scriptural evidence. He died 
 a peaceful and happy death, at the age 
 of sixty-eight, in the year 1849, and an 
 admirably fair and well-written biography 
 of him, from the pen of Mr. Himes, ap- 
 peared soon after. 
 
 As a man, Mr. Miller is described as 
 strictly temperate in all his habits, 
 devoted in his family and social attach- 
 ments, and proverbial for his integrity. 
 He was naturally very amiable in his tem- 
 perament, affable and attentive to all, — a 
 kind-heartedness, simplicity, and power, 
 peculiarly original, characterizing his 
 manner. He was of about medimn stature, 
 a little corpulent; hair, a light glossy 
 brown ; countenance full and round, with 
 a peculiar depth of expression in his blue 
 eye, of shrewdness and love. 
 
 As a preacher, Mr. Miller was generally 
 spoken of as convincing his hearers of his 
 sincerity, and instructing them by his 
 reasoning and information. All acknowl- 
 edge that his lectures were replete with 
 useful and interesting matter, showing a 
 knowledge of scripture very extensive and 
 minute — that of the prophecies, especially, 
 being surprisingly familiar; and his ap- 
 plication of the great prophecies to the 
 great events which have taken place in the 
 moral and natural world, was, to say the 
 least, ingenious and plausible. There was 
 nothing very peculiar in his manner; his 
 gestures were easy and expressive ; his 
 style decorous, simple, natural, and forci- 
 ble. He was always self-possessed and 
 ready; distinct in his utterance, and fre- 
 quently quaint in his observations ; in the 
 management of his subject, exhibiting 
 much tact, holding frequent colloquies with 
 the objector and inquirer, supplying the 
 questions and answers himself in a very 
 
438 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 apposite manner, and, although grave him- 
 self, sometimes producing a smile upon 
 the faces of his auditors. Much blame 
 was cast upon Mr. Miller, by some of his 
 opponents, for not contenting himself with 
 a quiet and unostentatious avowal of his 
 views, instead of traveling over the whole 
 country, and inaugurating the "noisy and 
 boisterous system of camp-meetings" in 
 connection with so solemn a theme. But, 
 that these camp-meetings did not partake 
 of the obnoxious qualities thus charged, 
 will appear — from one example at least, — 
 by the following account, written by John 
 G. Whittier, one of the most enlightened 
 and impartial of observers : — 
 
 On my way eastward (says Mr. Whittier), 
 I spent an hour or two at a camp-ground of 
 the Second Advent in East Kingston (N. 
 H.) The spot was well chosen. A tall 
 growth of pine and hemlock threw its mel- 
 ancholy shadow over the multitude, who 
 were arranged on rough seats of boards and 
 logs. Several hundred — perhaps a thou- 
 sand — people were present, and more were 
 rapidly coming. Drawn about in a circle, 
 forming a background of snowy whiteness 
 to the dark masses of men and foliaffe, 
 were the white tents, and back of them the 
 provision stalls and cook shops. When 
 I reached the ground, a hymn, the words 
 of which I could not distinguish, was peal- 
 ing through the dim aisles of the forest. I 
 know nothing of music, having neither ear 
 nor taste for it — but I could readily see 
 that it had its effect upon the multitude 
 before me, kindling to higher intensity 
 their already excited enthusiasm. The 
 preachers were placed in a rude pulpit of 
 
 rough boards, carpeted only by the dead 
 forest leaves, and flowers, and tasseled, not 
 with silk and velvet, but with the green 
 boughs of the somber hemlocks around it. 
 One of them followed the music in an earn- 
 est exhortation on the duty of preparing for 
 the great event. Occasionally, he was really 
 eloquent, and his description of the last day 
 had all the terrible distinctness of Anellis's 
 l^ainting of the ' End of the World.' 
 
 Suspended from the front of the rude 
 pulpit were two broad sheets of canvas, 
 upon one of which was the figure of a 
 man, — the head of gold, the breast and 
 arms of silver, the belly of brass, the legs 
 of iron, and feet of clay, — the dream of 
 Nebuchadnezzar ! On the other were 
 dejDicted the wonders of the Apocalyptic 
 vision — the beasts — the dragons — the scar- 
 let woman seen by the seer of Patmos — ■ 
 oriental types and figures and mystic 
 symbols translated into staring Yankee 
 realities, and exhibited like the beasts of a 
 traveling menagerie. One horrible image, 
 with its hideous heads and scaly caudal 
 extremity, reminded me of the tremendous 
 line of Milton, who, in speaking of the same 
 evil dragon, describes him as ''Swinge- 
 ing the scaly horrors of his folded tail." 
 To an imaginative mind the scene was 
 full of novel interest. The white circle of 
 tents — the dim wood arches — the upturned, 
 earnest faces — the loud voices of the 
 speakers, burdened with the awful sym- 
 bolic language of the Bible — the smoke 
 from the fires rising like incense from 
 forest altars, — carried one back to the days 
 of i^rimitive worship, when " The groves 
 were God's first temples." 
 
L. 
 
 AWFUL EXPLOSION OF COMMODORE STOCKTON'S 
 
 GREAT GUN, THE "PEACEMAKER," ON BOARD 
 
 THE U. S. STEAMSHIP PRINCETON.— 1844. 
 
 T)ie Secretaries of State and of the Navy, and Other Eminent Persons, Instantly Killed — Miraculous 
 Escape of the President — Sudden Transition from the Heiglit of Humjin Enjoyment to the Extreme 
 of Woe. — Stockton's High Enthusiasm. — His Vast and Beautiful Ship — Her Model and Armament. 
 — Styled the Pride of the Navy. — Invitations for a Grand Gala Day. — President Tyler Attends. — 
 Countless Dignitaries on Board. — Array of Female Beauty. — Music, Toasts, Wit and Wine. — Firing 
 of tlie Monster Gun. — Its Perfect Success. — " One More Shot!" by Request — A Stunning and Mur- 
 derous Blast. — Bursting of the Gun, — Death all Around. — Frightful Shrieks and Groans — Scattering 
 of Mangled Remains — Agony of Woman's Heart. — Standing Place of the President. — Absent Just 
 One Moment — The Dead in Union Flags. — Funeral at the White House. 
 
 " My tonsue wouli fail me to express, and my pen to portray, the agonizing heart -throes— the mingled walinga and frenzy — of that 
 awful hour."— Pkeside.vt Tyler. 
 
 AEELY is there found in the pages of a hun- 
 dred years' history, the record of a 
 more awful catastroplie — sliocking, 
 indeed, in all its circumstances, 
 concomitants, and results — than 
 that which occurred on hoard the 
 shiji Princeton, Commodore Stock- 
 ton, on the afternoon of Fehruary 
 twenty-eighth, 1844, whilst under 
 way, on the river Potomac, some 
 fifteeen miles below Washington. 
 This war steamer had just been 
 constructed in the city of Phila- 
 delpliia, according to improved plans enthusiastically advocated by Captain Stockton, 
 who had also superintended the casting of the guns — on a new principle and of prodig- 
 ious size and power — constituting the steamship's armament. It was principally to 
 exhibit tlie superi(n-ity of these new and formidable weapons of war, in the preparation 
 of which Stockton Jiad so long been engaged, and of the perfection of which he had, by 
 repeated tests and experiments, thoroughly satisfied himself, that he issued cardrS of 
 invitation to a large and brilliant company, of bptli sexes, to visit the magnificent sliip 
 and go on an excursion down the river. He had on successive da^'s, previou.slj', extended 
 this courtesy to various congressional committees and other officials, but this was to be 
 the gala day on the decks of that most stupendous and beautiful ship ever beheld on the 
 waters of the Potomac. 
 
 STOCKTON'S GREAT GUN, 
 
 THE PEACEMAKER." 
 
440 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Little did any one among that gay and 
 splendid throng anticipate a sudden trans- 
 ition from the height of human enjoy- 
 ment to the extreme of wailing, anguish, 
 and death ! 
 
 The day was remarkably fine, the sun 
 rising clear and bright, and Washington 
 from early in the morning presented a gay 
 and busy scene. Nearly all the carriages 
 were engaged, and freighted with the love- 
 liness, beauty and grace of the city. 
 About eleven o'clock in the forenoon, Mr. 
 Tyler, the president of the United States, 
 as chief guest, Mrs. Robert Tyler, Miss 
 Cooper, IVIi-. John Tyler, Jr., — all from the 
 
 executive mansion, — with a large number 
 of ofifieers in glittering uniforms, all the 
 members of the cabinet except Mr. Spen- 
 cer, many other high functionaries of state, 
 senators and representatives, quite a num- 
 ber of attaches and secretaries of lega- 
 tion. General Allmonte, minister from 
 Mexico (Sir Richard Packenham had been 
 invited, but declined,) and others, to the 
 number of some four hundred, were assem- 
 bled on the deck of one of the steamers 
 plying between Washington and Alexan- 
 dria, fast bearing down for the latter place. 
 Opposite the navy yard, a boat load of 
 musicians were taken on board, who, as 
 the company approached Alexandria, and 
 the Princeton hove in sight, struck up 
 'Hail Columbia,' while the convoy was 
 describing a graceful curve under the bow 
 
 of the splendid war steamer, to view her 
 in all her pride of architectural model, — 
 the flags of every nation streaming in the 
 brightness of the meridian sun from every 
 mast, and her yards manned to return the 
 cheers that were uttered by the happy 
 guests as they neared her side. 
 
 They now approached the Princeton on 
 her larboard side, and came quite close to 
 her. A bridge was soon made from the 
 hurricane deck to the great steamship, and 
 the ladies and gentlemen received by the 
 officers on deck, and conducted to Captain 
 Stockton, who was in full uniform. The 
 band now struck up the ' Star Spangled 
 Banner,' the marines presented arms, and 
 as soon as the company were on board, a 
 salute of twenty-one guns was fired, the 
 band still playing national airs; and it 
 was quite amusing to see how many ladies 
 remained on deck to witness the naval 
 maneuvers and evolutions, although they 
 had been politely requested to step down, 
 so as not to be annoyed by the smell of the 
 powder, or the noise of the report. Sump- 
 tuous, too, was the banquet spread before 
 this gay and brilliant company. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the Princeton hove 
 anchor and made sail, bearing down for 
 Fort Washington and INIount Vernon — her 
 sailing qualities being admired by all. 
 Past Fort Washington, where the Potomac 
 expands, presenting sufficient scope for 
 the power of the Princeton's big guns, the 
 forward gun was shotted and fired, the 
 ball striking the water and rebounding 
 five or six times, till the eye could no 
 longer follow its progress. An eye-witness 
 of this experiment — a newspaper corre- 
 spondent — states, tliat, in order to observe 
 tlie effect of the shot, he posted himself on 
 the nearest larboard cannonade gun, and, 
 by the side of this, a kind of scaffolding 
 had been erected b}- the sailors, for the 
 ladies to stand on. One or two ladies had 
 taken their position there, and, close by, 
 stood Mr. Secretary Upshur, intent upon 
 witnessing the whole scene. Tlie corre- 
 spondent offered his iilacc to the secretary, 
 but the latter declined, saying he preferred 
 to stand where he was — the precise spot 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 441 
 
 where, an hour afterwurd, he was torn to 
 pieces. 
 
 Caj)tain Stockton's great gun — called 
 ironically ^'tlte Peacemaker" — was now 
 again loaded with shot, and another trial 
 made of its strength and efficiency. The 
 gun was pointed to leeward, and behind it 
 stood Captain Stockton ; a little to the left 
 of him, Mr. J. "Washington Tyson, assist- 
 ant postmaster-general. By the side of 
 the latter, a little behind him, stood Mr. 
 Strickland, of Philadelphia; and a little to 
 the right of, but behind him. Colonel 
 Benton, of Missouri, who had a lady at his 
 arm ; and Judge S. S. Phelps, senator 
 from Vermont. To the leeward of the gun 
 stood Judge Upshur, the secretary of 
 state ; also Governor Gilmer, the secretary 
 of the navy, who had but a few da^-s previ- 
 ously entered on the duties of his office ; 
 and, a short distance behind them, the late 
 charge d'affaires to Belgium, Mr. Maxey, 
 of Maryland. By the side of him stood 
 Hon. Mr. Gardiner, of New York, and 
 Commodore Kennon, chief of one of the 
 navy bureaus. 
 
 On firing the gun, a murderous blast 
 succeeded — the whole ship shook and 
 reeled — and a dense cloud of smoke envel- 
 oped the whole group on the forecastle ; 
 but when this blew away, an awful and 
 heart-rending scene presented itself to the 
 view of the hushed and agonizing specta- 
 tors. The gun had hurst, at a point three 
 or four feet from the breech, and scattered 
 death and desolation all around. 
 
 The lower part of the gun, from the 
 trunnions to the breech, was blown off, 
 and one-half section of it lying upon the 
 breast of the newspaper correspondent ; it 
 took two sailors to remove it. Secretary 
 Upshur was badly cut over the eye and in 
 his legs, his clothes being literally torn 
 from his body ; he expired in a very few 
 minutes. Governor Gilmer, of Virginia, 
 — under whose official directions, as secre- 
 tary of the navy, the power of this great 
 gun was tested, — was found equally badly 
 injured ; he had evidently been struck by 
 the section of the gun before it had 
 reached Mr. Upshur. Mr. Sykes, member 
 
 of congress from New Jersey, endeavored 
 to raise him from the ground, but was 
 unable. A mattress was then procured, 
 and Mr. Gilmer placed on it ; but before 
 any medical assistance could be procured, 
 he was not among the living. 
 
 Mr. Maxey had his arms and one of his 
 legs cut off, the pieces of flesh hanging to 
 the mutilated limbs, cold and bloodless, 
 in a manner truly frightful. Mr. Gardi- 
 ner, of New York (one of whose daugh- 
 ters subsequently became the wife of Pres- 
 ident Tyler), and Commodore Kennon, 
 lingered about half an hour ; but they did 
 not seem for a single moment to be con- 
 scious of their fate, and expired almost 
 without a groan. The flags of the Union 
 were placed over the dead bodies, as their 
 winding-sheets. 
 
 Behind the gun, the scene, though at 
 first equally distressing, was less alarming. 
 Captain Stockton, who was knocked down 
 and somewhat injured, almost instantly 
 rose to his feet, and, mounting upon the 
 wooden carriage, quickly and anxiously 
 surveyed the whole effect of the calamity. 
 All the hair of his head and face was 
 burnt off; and he stood calm and undis- 
 mayed, but deeply conscious, over the 
 frightful wreck. Shrieks of woe were 
 heard from every quarter — death and deso- 
 lation, blood and mangled remains, were 
 all around. In addition to the deaths 
 ah-eady mentioned, about a dozen sailors 
 were badly wounded ; one was dead, and, 
 behind him, Colonel Benton, Judge 
 Phelps, and Mr. Strickland, as if dead, 
 were extended on the deck. On that side, 
 by a singular concatenation of circum- 
 stances, Mr. T3'Son, of Philadelphia, was 
 the only person who stood his ground, 
 though a piece of the gun, weighing about 
 two pounds, had passed through his hat, 
 about two inches from his skull, and fallen 
 down by the side of him. A servant of 
 the president, a colored lad of about fifteen 
 years of age, was amongst the slain. Pres- 
 ident Tyler himself was saved only hy the 
 merest accident — having been temporarily 
 called back from where he stood, just a 
 moment before ! 
 
442 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Judge Phelps, of Vermont, had his hat 
 blown or knocked off, and the buttons of 
 his coat torn off. Mr. Strickland, of Phil- 
 adelphia, immediately recovered his posi- 
 tion. Miss Woodbury and Miss Cooper, 
 who, in company of Captain Reed, of the 
 army, and Mr. Welles, of Philadelphia, 
 had been standing on a leeward gun, were 
 not hurt ; but the first-named lady — the 
 beautiful and accomplished daughter of 
 Senator Woodbury, of New Hampshire, — 
 had her whole face sprinkled with blood, 
 from one of the unfortunate killed or 
 wounded. Judge Wilkins was only saved 
 by a rollicking bit of witticism of his. 
 
 He had taken his stand by the side of his 
 colleague in office, Secretary Gilmer, but 
 some remarks falling from the lips of the 
 latter, and perceiving that the gun was 
 about to be fired, exclaimed, suiting his 
 action to the word — 
 
 ''■ Though secretary of war, I don't like 
 this firing, and believe that I shall run ! " 
 
 A most heart-rending scene was that 
 which transpired among some of the lady 
 guests. The two daughters of Mr. Gardi- 
 ner, of New York, were on board, and 
 were piteously lamenting the death of 
 their father ; while Mrs. Gilmer, from 
 whom the company had in vain attempted 
 to withhold, for a time, the dreadful news 
 of the death of her husband, presented 
 truly a spectacle fit to be depicted by a 
 tragedian. Her agony Avas doubtless 
 aggravated by a peculiar incident. It 
 
 appears that, while President Tyler and 
 family, and a large number of ladies and 
 gentlemen in the cabin, were in the act of 
 leaving the banquet-table, to proceed to 
 the deck, the movement was arrested 
 for a moment, by a gentleman announcing 
 that one of the ladies would give a toast, 
 and but for which it is probable most of 
 the party would have been exposed to the 
 deadly missiles. Some of the ladies, how- 
 ever, were upon deck, and near enough to 
 be dashed with the blood and mangled 
 remains of the victims. One of those 
 ladies was the wife of Secretary Gilmer, 
 and it was at her husband's special request, 
 that the gun on this occasion was fired, 
 in order that he might observe its quality 
 in some peculiar way. This gun was the 
 one called the 'Peacemaker;' the other, 
 of the same size on board, was called the 
 ' Oregon.' 
 
 Mr. Seaton, mayor of the city of Wash- 
 ington, was one of the comi:)any, having 
 been invited by Mr. Gilmer, and would 
 have accompanied him to the deck to 
 witness the firing, but for a difficulty in 
 finding his cloak and hat at the moment. 
 A lady, standing u^^on the deck between 
 two gentlemen, one of Avhom had his hat, 
 and the other the breast of his coat taken 
 off, escaped unhurt. The secretary of 
 state, Mr. Upshur, left a wife and daugh' 
 ter, to mourn his untimely death ; Secre- 
 tary Gilmer, a wife and eight children — 
 the eldest but fifteen. Commodore Kennon 
 left a young wife, and children by his first 
 wife. Mr. Maxey also left a wife and 
 children ; and Colonel Gardiner two accom- 
 plished daughters, leading belles in the 
 society of the metropolis. The only cir- 
 cumstance calculated to relieve the all-per- 
 vading distress, was, that of the multitude 
 of ladies who were on board the ship, not 
 one was materially injured. 
 
 As illustrating the effect of such a phe- 
 nomenon, upon those who were near 
 enough to have their sensations and emo- 
 tions wrought upon to the highest degree, 
 without actual injury to their persons, the 
 experience of Senator Benton — certainly 
 one of the strongest-minded of men — is an 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 443 
 
 \^M% 
 
 EXPLOSION OF THE GREAT GUN ON BOARD THE UNITED STATES STEAMSHIP PRINCETON. 
 
 interesting case in point. In that sena- 
 tor's account of the occurrence, he says, 
 among other things: ^Lieutenant Hunt 
 caused the gun to be worked, to show the 
 ease and precision with which her direc- 
 tion could be changed, and then pointed 
 down the river to make the fire — himself 
 and the gunners standing near the breech 
 on the right. I opened my mouth wide to 
 receive the concussion on the inside as well 
 as on the outside of the head and ears, so 
 as to lessen the force of the external 
 shock. I saw the hammer pulled back 
 
 — heard a tap — saw a flash — felt a blast in 
 the face, and knew that my hat was gone ; 
 and that was the last that I knew of the 
 world, or of myself, for a time, of which I 
 can give any account. The first that I 
 knew of myself, or of anything afterwards, 
 was rising up at the breech of the gun, 
 seeing the gun itself split open, — two 
 seamen, the blood oozing from their ears 
 and nostrils, rising and reeling near me — 
 Commodore Stockton, hat gone, and face 
 blackened, standing bolt upright, staring 
 fixedly upon the shattered gun. I had heard 
 
444 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 no noise — no more than the dead. I only 
 knew that the gun had burst from seeing 
 its fragments. I had gone through the 
 experience of a sudden death, as if from 
 lightning, whieli extinguishes knowledge 
 and sensation, and takes one out of the 
 world without thought or feeling. I think 
 I know what it is to die without knowing 
 it, and that such a death is nothing to 
 him that revives. The rapid and lucid 
 working of the mind to the instant of 
 extinction, is the marvel that still aston- 
 ishes me. I heard the tap — saw the flash, 
 felt the blast — and knew nothing of the 
 explosion. I was cut off in that inappre- 
 ciable point of time which intervened 
 between the flash and the fire — between 
 
 the burning of the powder in the .touch- 
 hole, and the burning of it in the barrel of 
 the gun. No mind can seize that point of 
 time, no thought can measure it; yet to 
 me it was distinctly marked, divided life 
 from death — the life that sees, and feels, 
 and knows, from death (for such it was for 
 the time), which annihilates self and the 
 world. And now is credible to me, or 
 rather comprehensible, what persons have 
 told me of the rapid and clear working of 
 the mind in sudden and dreadful catastro- 
 phes — as in steam-boat explosions, and 
 being blown into the air — and have the 
 events of their lives pass in review before 
 » them, and even speculate upon the chances 
 of falling on the deck and being crushed, 
 
 or falling on the warer and swimming: 
 and persons recovered from drowning, and 
 running their whole lives over in the inter- 
 val between losing hope and losing con- 
 sciousness.' This account, written by Mr. 
 Benton, several years after the occurrence, 
 shows the vivid impression made upon his 
 mind. 
 
 Of similar interest was the experience 
 of Judge Phelps, senator from Vermont, 
 who was nearer to the gun than any other 
 guest, and who had at his side a young 
 lady, Miss Sommerville, from Maryland. 
 The judge was prostrated, his hat and the 
 lady's bonnet disappeared, her dress was 
 also torn, and the judge's apparel rent and 
 demolished. The lad^^'s face was scorched, 
 and she stood like a statue, 
 unconscious. 'I took a 
 glance at the scene,' says 
 the judge, writing to a 
 friend, ' caught her round 
 the waist, and carried her 
 below. I witnessed a scene 
 there which I shall not at- 
 tempt to describe — it was 
 one of agony, frenzy — the 
 shrieks of a hundred fe- 
 males — wives, daughters, 
 sisters — the beauty, the 
 loveliness of the land. The 
 imploring appeals to know 
 the fate of the nearest and 
 dearest objects of their af- 
 fection can not be forgotten. ' Sir,' said 
 one, ' theij will not tell me about my lius- 
 hand? I knew her not, but she was at that 
 moment a widow — her husband was blown 
 to atoms ! You will hardly believe me 
 when I tell you I was calm — collected. It 
 was no time for trepidation. I felt as if 
 introduced in the presence of vl\j Maker. 
 The scene was unearthly; ever}'- selfish 
 feeling vanished — even my own life Avas of 
 no account. I was taken to the portals of 
 eternity, and felt that I was surveying 
 not the paltry interests of time and sense, 
 but man's eternal destiny. The first tear 
 which started in my eye fell upon the 
 few lines which conve3'ed to my beloved 
 and devoted wife the assurance that she 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 445 
 
 •was not a widow, nor her cliilJren father- 
 less.' 
 
 The first hours after the appalling catas- 
 trophe were marked, as might be ex- 
 pected, by high excitement. Astonish- 
 ment, and a feeling of dismay, mingled 
 with intense and painful curiosity, seized 
 upon the entire community. All tongues 
 were busy in pressing or answering in- 
 quiries. Men rushed out of doors, crowded 
 the resorts of public intelligence, gathered 
 in knots about the streets, and with eager 
 countenances turned to every new-comer 
 for further information. 
 
 The next day, crowds poured down to 
 the wharf where the bodies were expected 
 to be landed, and, though long disap- 
 pointed, continued to wait, hour after 
 hour, till at length the minute-guns from 
 below announced the departure of the cof- 
 fins from on board the steamer, and the 
 commencement of their melancholy route 
 up to the city. 
 
 As the boat which bore them approached 
 her landing-place, the surrounding shores 
 were covered with spectators, while a long 
 line of carriages stood in waiting to follow 
 in the train which bore the remains of the 
 dead. Six hearses, in sad contiguity, stood 
 side by side, and received in succession 
 their mournful freight, as the coflfins, 
 borne by seamen and followed each by an 
 escort of naval officers, were brought 
 along through an avenue of sympathizing 
 citizens, who opened to the right and 
 left to let them pass. Scores of carriages 
 followed to the presidential mansion, 
 whither the dead were carried by the 
 president's particular desire, and de- 
 posited in the East room. That vast 
 apartment, so often the scene of brilliant 
 festivity — so often echoing the strains of 
 joyous music and the mingled voices of the 
 gay — was now converted, in the provi- 
 dence of God, into a sepulchral chamber, 
 cold, silent, and dark. 
 
 Saturday was fixed upon for the funeral 
 ceremonies, and the city was filled with 
 those who came to witness the solemn 
 rites and pomp of the occasion, the bustle 
 of business being hushed at an early hour. 
 
 Before the bodies were removed from the 
 executive mansion, religious services were 
 performed by Rev. Messrs. Hawley, 
 Laurie, and Butler. The funeral proces- 
 sion was then formed, and presented an 
 imposing couj) iVceil. Generals Scott and 
 Jones led the splendid military escort. 
 Among the distinguished pall-bearers 
 were Messrs. Archer, Morgan, Bolton, 
 Totten, Worth, Gibson, Aulick, Shubrick, 
 Crane, Towson, Kennedy, Hunt, Barnard, 
 Eish, Fendall, — all departments of the 
 government, legislative, executive, judi- 
 cial, military and naval, being largely 
 represented in the vast and magnificent 
 procession. With these honors, accom- 
 panied by minute-guns and tolling bells, 
 the bodies wei'e borne to the congressional 
 burying-ground, where the military halted, 
 and, forming in line in front of the gate, 
 received the hearses with martial salutes 
 and dirges. Minute-guns were fired from 
 the west terrace of the capitol grounds, 
 from the navy yard, and from other points, 
 as the cavalcade proceeded on its route ; 
 religious services were again performed, 
 on depositing the coffins in the receiving 
 vault ; after which, the military, as usual, 
 closed the solemn pageant of outward 
 ceremonial, by firing volleys in honor of 
 the lamented dead. 
 
 By direction of the president, Hon. 
 John Nelson became, ad interhji, secretary 
 of state ; and Commodore Warrington, in 
 like manner, secretary of the navy ; in 
 place of Messrs. Upshur and Gilmer. 
 
 Concerning the great gun used on this oc- 
 casion, and of which Commodore Stockton 
 was the projector, it may be remarked that 
 it was manufactured in New York, and 
 was far superior in point of workmanship 
 to its companion, the ' Oregon,' which was 
 made in England. The 'Peacemaker' 
 was placed in the bow of the ship, on a 
 revolving carriage, so that it might be 
 fired from either side. An ordinary 
 charge of powder for it was thirty pounds. 
 It carried a ball weighing two hundred 
 and twenty-five pounds ; and such was the 
 precision with which it could be fired, as 
 ascertained from actual experiments, that 
 
446 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 an object the size of a hogshead could be 
 hit nine times in ten, at a distance of 
 half a mile. 
 
 The gun being loaded, the first thing 
 was to ascertain the precise distance of 
 the object to be fired at, this being done 
 by means of an instrument, constructed 
 upon trigonometrical 2>i"iiiciples, the scale 
 on which indicated the distance at a 
 glance. The next thing was to give the 
 gun the proper elevation. This was done 
 by means of a self-acting lock, on an arm 
 of which was a scale that indicated the 
 precise elevation necessary to reach a 
 given distance with the ball. A spring 
 on top of the lock was then brought up 
 to the point indicated, the hammer pulled 
 back, and, at the very point of time when, 
 
 -^ 
 
 by the ship's motion, the gun reached that 
 point, and not before nor afterward, the 
 gun was of itself discharged. 
 
 The weight of the 'Peacemaker' was 
 ten tons ; its length, fifteen feet ; with a 
 bore of twelve inches. It had been tested 
 witli a charge of forty-nine jtounds of 
 powder; had frequently been fired with 
 thirty ; it exploded with twenty-five. 
 
 A few days before the exhibition of the 
 ordnance to the presidential party, there 
 was an interesting trial of the gun, — its 
 manner of working and its powers — 
 attended with most satisfactory results. 
 All the preparation for firing, with the 
 
 exception simply of putting the powder 
 and ball into the gun, was made by Com- 
 modore Stockton personally. By means 
 of a tackle fixed to the breech, a motion 
 was given to the gun similar to that im- 
 parted by a heavy swell, and when it 
 reached the point indicated it was dis- 
 charged. The ball in this case traveled 
 about two miles before it hit the water, 
 and then bounded several times. The 
 Princeton went down the river as far as 
 Mount Vernon. In going down, the 
 ' Peacemaker ' was discharged three times, 
 and, in returning, twice. On the fourth 
 fire, the ball struck on the land, and its 
 effect was lost sight of by those on board 
 — so that the party demanded another 
 fire, and respectfully requested the cap- 
 tain to put in a little 
 more powder this time. 
 Before firing for the fifth 
 and last time, the cajjtain 
 said he should take the 
 sense of the company. 
 " All those in favor of an- 
 other fire will say, aye." 
 The air resounded with 
 "aye!" ''All those op- 
 posed to another fire will 
 say, no." Not a solitary 
 voice. " The ayes have 
 it," said the captain ; " I 
 have the assent of con- 
 gress, and I'll go ahead." 
 Probably fifty pounds of 
 powder went into the 
 'Peacemaker' this time. As before, the 
 gun was fired by the captain himself. 
 The ball went, probably, four miles before 
 it struck. It bounded fifteen times on the 
 ice, in the course of which it j^erformed a 
 half circle. 
 
 Stockton was one of those persevering 
 and enlightened experimenters who, like 
 James, Rodman, Wade, Dahlgren, Ames, 
 Sawyer, Parrott, Hotchkiss, Gillmore, are 
 an honor to the cause of military science. 
 It was in 1839, while in England, that his 
 attention was attracted to the extraordi- 
 nary and important improvements there 
 introduced in the manufacture of large 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 447 
 
 masses of wrought iron for objects requir- 
 ing great strength, and he was thus led 
 to consider the question how far the same 
 material might be employed in the con- 
 struction of cannon of large caliber. 
 Singular enough, when Commodore Stock- 
 ton applied to a manufacturer to do the 
 job, he — the manufacturer — declared that 
 
 it could not be done ; and it was not until 
 Commodore Stockton had promised to pay 
 all the expense of an attempt out of his 
 own pocket, that the manufacturer would 
 consent to make a trial. In a short time, 
 the manufacturer, seeing that it was per- 
 fectly practicable, became as great an en- 
 thusiast in the matter as Stockton himself. 
 
 \ 
 
LI. 
 
 TRIAL AND DEGRADATION OF THE BISHOPS OF THE 
 
 NEW YORK AND PENNSYLVANIA DIOCESES, FOR 
 
 ALLEGED IMMORALITY, ETC.— 1844. 
 
 These Two Most Powerful Prelates in the Church of their Order are Struclt from the Roll of the 
 Clergy, while in the Zenith of their Fame. — No Parallel Case among Consecrated Dignitaries, since 
 the Reformation. — A Case of Melancholy Celebrity. — Extraordinary even to Romance. — Other Simi- 
 lar Instances. — Exalted Character of the Bishops. — Venerable Age — Splendid Abilities — Terrible 
 Effect of the Scandal — Confession of the Bishop of Pennsylvania. — Interview with the New York 
 Bishop. — His alleged Libertinism. — Solemn Arraignment. — Some of the Evidence Given. — Charged 
 with Gross Improprieties. — Testimony of Ladies. — His Acts while Riding to Church. — The House of 
 Ill-Fame Story. — Its Emphatic Denial by the Bishop. — Animus of the whole movement. — Pleas of 
 the Rival Counsel. — Found "Guilty by his Peers." — Sentence of Suspension Imposed. — Efforts to 
 Restore Him. — His Dying Declarations. — Affecting Tributes to his Memory by all Parties. 
 
 "Of the crimes of which 1 have been accused and for which I have been condemned, my conscience acquits me, in the sight of God.' 
 Dyixo Words of the Vbserable I'belate. 
 
 ATHERED together, in solemn and extraordinary convocation, the 
 bishops of the Episcopal Church in the United States proceeded, 
 in December, 1844, to try the Right Rev. B. T. Onderdonk, D. D., 
 Bishop of the diocese of New York, on charges of '' immorality and 
 impurity," presented by Bishops Meade, Otey, and Elliott. 
 
 The event, so unusual and astounding, produced a most profound 
 sensation in every part of the country, and especially in the religious 
 world. Nor were the revelations made during the sitting of the 
 court, or the result arrived at, any less startling to the public mind. 
 For the first time, since the Rrformatiov , a bishop was tried and condemned hy his 
 peers for immorality. Singularly enough, the House of Bishops had, only some two 
 montlis previously, passed the degrading sentence of suspension u^ion Right Rev. H. 
 U. Onderdonk, D. D., bishop of the diocese of Pennsylvania, for the scandal brought 
 upon the church and his own private and official character, by the use of intoxicating 
 liquor.s, — his guilt in this respect being voluntarily acknowledged to the house of bishops, 
 who, without the formality of a trial, i)roceeded at once, at the request of the unfor- 
 tunate prelate, to pass disciplinary sentence, namely : suspension from all public exer- 
 cise of the office and functions of the sacred ministry, and from all exercise whatever 
 of the office and work of a bishop. 
 
 These two distinguished men were brothers ; they presided over the two richest and 
 most conspicuously influential dioceses in the Episcopal Church in America; they 
 
GREAT AND ME]NrORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 449 
 
 wore its two most prominent and power- 
 ful bishops. History presents no panillel 
 to such a case. As a crowning coinci- 
 dence, their successors in the episcopate 
 were two brothers, Rev. Drs. Alonzo and 
 Horatio Potter. 
 
 From these peculiar circumstances, this 
 chapter in the ecclesiastical historj'^ of the 
 United States possesses an interest alto- 
 gether its own. Other religious bodies 
 have been called to lament tlie moral de- 
 fection of some of their leading and most 
 honored ministers, but the high position 
 of these prelates, as bishops of eminent 
 influence and renown, invested the narra- 
 tive of their delinquencies with marked 
 and melanchol}' distinction. 
 
 Bishop Onderdonk, of New York, was 
 a graduate of Columbia college, and, in 
 his twenty-first year, was ordained a min- 
 ister of the Episcopal church, by Bishop 
 Hobart. When but twenty-three j-ears 
 of age, he was elected an assistant minis- 
 ter of Trinity church, New York city, 
 and soon succeeded Rev. Dr. Lyell as 
 secretary of the diocesan convention. On 
 tlie death of Bishop Hobart, in 1830, Dr. 
 Onderdonk was chosen to succeed him in 
 his high office, the act of consecration 
 being performed by Bishops White, 
 Brownell, and H. U. Onderdonk. 
 
 The charges now brought against him, 
 in his gray-haired years, came upon his 
 friends and the community, like a clap of 
 thunder from a clear sky. For more than 
 half a century he had resided in New 
 York city — the home of his birth, the 
 scene of his education, the chief seat of 
 his labors. For almost a generation he 
 had exercised the Cliristian ministry. 
 His childhood and youth were singular in 
 purity and piety. For twenty years he 
 was connected with the largest Ei)iscopal 
 parish in tlie country. He was also a 
 most devoted pastor — faithful and capable, 
 quite to a proverb, in what is called the 
 business of the church, diocesan and 
 general ; and, as theological professor, he 
 trained a multitude of the most useful 
 ministers, as well as several bishops, for 
 their sacred office. A change, then, so 
 29 
 
 great and so disastrous, in the position of 
 the bishop, as that indicated in the charges 
 preferred against him — that his old age 
 should thus suddenly be made to contrast 
 so criminally with his chiklhood, youth, 
 and long-known manhood — presented the 
 case in an aspect, extraordinary to the 
 very borders of romance. 'From his 
 youth up,' he bore the reputation of being 
 grave, sedate, thoughtful, pure-minded, 
 correct in his principles, and unspotted in 
 life. 
 
 On the organization of the court, the 
 presenting bishops were aided by Mr. 
 Hiram Ketchum, and Gerardus Clarke, 
 and the accused by Mr. David B. Ogden, 
 and Mr. David Graham. The specifica- 
 tions against the bishop cite sundry acts 
 of an indecent and grossly insulting char- 
 acter towards resi:)ectable ladies, committed 
 in despite of their indignant resistance, 
 bj'^ thrusting his hand into their bosoms, 
 and otherwise using such immodest famil- 
 iarities with their persons as ai-e utterl}' 
 irreconcilable with the profession of a pri- 
 vate Christian, much more intolerable in 
 the case of a minister of the goppol, and, 
 most of all, inconsistent with the pure 
 example of a bishop. 
 
 The evidence, direct or collateral, upon 
 which the prosecutors chiefly relied to 
 sustain their charges, was that given by 
 Rev. Dr. Butler and his wife, Mrs. Beare, 
 the two Misses Rudderow, and Rev. 
 Messrs. Taylor, Trapier, Richmond, Mil- 
 nor, Muhlenberg, and Wainwright. 
 
 The statement made by Mrs. Butler 
 was as follows, the occurrences transpiring 
 in a carriage having two seats, the party 
 consisting of Mr. Butler and Mr. Peck, 
 who sat in front, and Mrs. Butler and 
 Bishop Onderdonk, who occupied the back 
 seat, — the journey being from Ithaca to 
 S^'x-acuse, at which latter place Mr. But- 
 ler was to be ordained by the bishoj:) : — I 
 noticed immediately (says this witness,) 
 that the bishop's breath was tainted by 
 something he had been drinking. I was 
 neither surprised nor pained by it, for I 
 was aware that he habituallj^ used wine 
 and ardent spirits. He soon became un- 
 
450 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 usually talkative, and spoke so indistinctly 
 that I could not always understand him. 
 He first put his arm around my waist and 
 drew me towards him ; this he repeated 
 once, perhaps twice. He had often done 
 this when I was unmarried, and I had 
 permitted it, though always disagreeable 
 to me, because I believed him incapable 
 of wrong. At this time, however, I re- 
 moved his hand each time, because I saw 
 
 TRINITY CnURCH. NEW YORK. 
 
 he was not liiniself. The bisliop persisted 
 in putting his arm about me, and raised 
 his hand so as to press my bosom. I then 
 rose and withdrew tlie arm from behind 
 me, and laid his liand upon his knee, and 
 said to him in a raised tone of voice, hop- 
 ing to bring him to himself, and wishing 
 to attract Mr. Butler's attention, that a 
 bishop's hands were sacred in my eyes, 
 and that his were particularly so, because 
 
 they had been laid upon the heads of 
 many I loved in confirmation, and were 
 about to be laid upon my husband's head 
 in ordination. He made but little answer, 
 but for some little time let me alone. 
 While sitting in thought, I found he was 
 again moving: I waited to see whether he 
 might not be merely steadying himself in 
 his seat, as the roads were rough, when he 
 suddenly and violently again brought his 
 hand upon my bosom, pressed and clasped 
 it. AVith some horror I struck the hand 
 Avith all my force, and he Avithdrew it ; 
 but immediately grasped my leg in the 
 most indelicate manner. I sprang for- 
 ward to my husband, and told him I could 
 no longer sit with the bishop ; I must sit 
 with him. I was greatly distressed, and 
 Mr. Butler held me on his knee for some 
 time, I riding sometimes on his knee, and 
 sometimes on a carpet-bag at his feet. 
 At the varioits stopping-places where we 
 got out and rested, my whole efforts were 
 needed by my husband to soothe him, he 
 being violently incensed. 
 
 Miss Jane Rudderow, another witness 
 for the prosecution, gave in tlie following 
 statement: — On the thirteenth of June, 
 1841, Bishop Onderdonk visited St. 
 James's church in this city (New York). 
 I left the church before the close of the 
 morning service, in consequence of a ner- 
 vous headache. He returned with my 
 sister Helen to dine, at the house of my 
 brother. I went down to the drawing- 
 room, at sister Helen's request, to see 
 him. He was standing by the center- 
 table when I entered. He advanced to 
 meet me with extended hand, and said, 
 'My daughter, I must cure you of these 
 nervous headaches,' and led me to the 
 sofa. I sat down in the center of the 
 sofa. Bishop Onderdouk immediately 
 thrust his hand in my bosom. I moved 
 to the other end of the sofa. He followed 
 me, and repeated the insult. I was afraid 
 to scream, or even reprove him ; for my 
 two brothers were in the hall. I was re- 
 lieved by the entrance of my sister-in-law. 
 After dinner we went on to the piazza. 
 Bishop Onderdonk requested me to show 
 
GKEAT AND .MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 451 
 
 liim 'Sir. Schermerhorii's house, wliich I 
 (lid by walking to tin- north end of the 
 piazza. He threw liis arms around my 
 neck, and I retreated into the drawing- 
 room, where my mother, and sister, and 
 sister-in-law, immediately followed me. 
 It was a stormy day, and I went to the 
 window-shade, to go undei-neath it, to see 
 if it had ceased raining. Much to my 
 surprise, Bishop Onderdonk was imme- 
 diately at mj"^ side, and moved his 
 hand in such a manner as caused me 
 great alarm. I threw his hand away 
 from me, and retreated from under- 
 neath the shade. I observed my mother 
 regarding me intently. My mother after- 
 wards asked me, 'Jane, what did the 
 bishop do to you, that made 3'ou look so 
 when you came from the window ? for I can 
 read your face like a book ; and 3'ou looked 
 so deeply mortified.' The Rev. Mr. Dowd- 
 ney several times requested us to have 
 the bishop at dinner, on his visit, June 
 eighteenth, 1843, but I answered, and 
 Helen also, 'He never shall dine at our 
 house again ; or if so, we will not be 
 present.' 
 
 The sister of the preceding confirmed 
 the testimony given by that witness, and 
 gave this account of the bishop's conduct 
 while she rode with him on the back seat 
 of a carriage driven by Rev. J. C. Rich- 
 mond, from St. James's church : — We had 
 not proceeded very far from the church, 
 when Bishop Onderdonk put his arm 
 around my neck, and otherwise behaved in 
 a familiar manner; this he continued to 
 do. I was very much surprised and agi- 
 tated, and would have jumped from the 
 carriage, had it not been for exposing him 
 to the Rev. Mr. Richmond. He kept 
 repeating the offense, until we reached 
 home, whei'e he was to dine with us. I 
 immediately went to the room occupied 
 by my sister and myself, and told her 
 what had happened. 1 entreated her to 
 go down and entertain him, as the family 
 were not yet prepared to do so ; she con- 
 sented, upon condition that I should fol- 
 low as soon as I could sufficiently compose 
 myself. 
 
 Of similar purport was the evidence 
 given by Mrs. Beare, wife of Rev. H. M. 
 Beare, rector of the church at Bayside, 
 L. I., namely: — Rode to Zion church, 
 with the bishop, where he was to perform 
 confirmation. My husband's mother and 
 his nephew sat on the front seat ; the 
 bishop and myself on the back one. Dur- 
 ing this ride, the bishop put his arm 
 around me in an unbecoming manner, 
 which caused me to draw from him; his 
 hand pressed upon my bosom. 1 first 
 communicated the knowledge of this 
 transaction to my husband. 1 told him I 
 did not wish to ride with the bislio[) in 
 the afternoon, as I thought him too 
 familiar in his manners. He asked me in 
 what way. I told him of the occurrence 
 of the morning, and he expressed great 
 surprise, sa^-ing, 'If you can avoid it, do 
 not let it alter your manner towards him 
 while he is in our house.' The bishop dined 
 at our house after the morning service. 
 While there, the bishop put his arm 
 around me, and once raised my head by 
 my chin, and kissed me. After the after- 
 noon service, I rode with Mr. Thomas 
 Beare, my husband's brother ; the bishop 
 rode with my husband, and I think his 
 nephew, in another carriage. We went 
 to the house of Mr. Joseph L. Franklin. 
 I rode as far as the top of the lane with 
 Thomas Beare ; he was going directly 
 home and not to Mr. Franklin's. 1 left 
 his vehicle and rode the remainder of the 
 way with the bishop and my husband. 
 Returned from IMr. Franklin's about nine 
 o'clock in the evening, in a one-horse 
 family barouche, our own, with two seats 
 to accommodate four persons; the bishop 
 and myself were on the back seat, my hus- 
 band and his nephew on the front. On 
 this ride, the bishop put his arm around 
 my waist ; then raised it, and put it across 
 the back of my neck ; he thrust his hand 
 into the neck of m)' dress, down into my 
 bosom. I threw his hand from there ; he 
 immediately put it upon another part of 
 my person. I pushed it aside from there, 
 and he then with the other h;ind repeated 
 the same movement upon the other side. 
 
452 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 and this he continued to do, with much 
 persistency, and with the same indifference 
 to the resistance made by me, from the be- 
 ginning of his approaches, by all the means 
 in my power. I went immediately to my 
 room, when we reached home. My husband 
 soon followed me, and asked the cause of 
 my agitation. I told him the bishop had 
 insulted me. He replied, 'Say no more 
 now ; let us join the family, and have our 
 evening devotions.' I calmed myself, and 
 went down into the room. On the 
 bishop's departure, he approached me and 
 
 adduced to this end; and the asserted dis- 
 crepancies and inconsistencies characteriz- 
 ing some of the statements made to his 
 prejudice, were mainly relied upon by the 
 bishop's counsel, in their legal manage- 
 ment of the case. 
 
 Long before the matter was brought to 
 public trial, Bishop Onderdonk was waited 
 upon in private, by some of the most emi- 
 nent and venerable clergymen of the dio- 
 cese, for the purpose of calling his atten- 
 tion to the reports which were then in 
 circulation. These clergymen were Rev. 
 
 
 took my hand, and advanced — as I sup- 
 posed, to kiss me; I drew from him, and 
 he did not do it. I did not extend my 
 hand ; he took it. After he was seated in 
 the carriage, he raised his hand to his 
 lips, and waved it to me. 
 
 Against all the charges by the prosecut- 
 ing bishops, and the evidence thus brought 
 forward to prove them, Bishoi) Onderdonk 
 entered his solemn and unequivocal denial, 
 so far at least as those charges and that 
 evidence alleged any impure intention on 
 his part. Evidence and argument were 
 
 Drs. Milnor, Wainwright, IMuhlenberg, 
 and Higbee. The interview was held in 
 the bishop's study, Dr. Milnor opening the 
 conversation in regard to the object of the 
 visit, namely, an allegation made by the 
 Rev. Mr. Beare, of improper familiarities 
 on the part of the bishop towards his wife ; 
 that these were said to have occurred in a 
 carriage in which he rode with INIrs. 
 Beare, in the first place in going to or 
 from the church in the forenoon, the 
 church being the one where the bishop 
 confirmed that day ; that familiarities of a 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 453 
 
 still more objectionable kind had been 
 indulged in by the bislio[) in the evening, 
 in ritling from a house where they had 
 taken tea — understood to be the house of a 
 parisliioner — to Mr. Beare's home; that 
 Mr. Beare had communicated the facts to 
 Rev. Dr. Muhlenberg, who committed 
 them to writing. The bishop was further 
 informed that Dr. Muhlenberg had advised 
 j\[r. Beare to have the matter brought 
 before the bishop, — Dr. Muhlenberg offer- 
 ing to come down to the city to attend to 
 the business, — and both Dr. Muhlenberg 
 and Dr. Wainwright requesting Dr. Mil- 
 nor's company on the intended visit. 
 
 After the subject had thus been laid 
 before the bishop, he positively dcTiied the 
 charge; and expressed his astonishment, 
 tliat a lady of respectable character, as he 
 presumed Mrs. Beare to be, should make 
 such assertions. The bishop was asked, 
 whether he would be willing to see Mr. 
 Beare, to which he made answer that he 
 had no objection, and Dr. Muhlenberg 
 said he would send w^ord to Mr. Beare to 
 come down the next day. Messrs. Milnor, 
 Muhlenberg, Higbee, and Beare, visited the 
 bishop on that day. They found him in 
 his study, from which he took them into 
 the back room, and closed tlte door. The 
 bishop took Mr. Beare by the hand, and 
 said, " Mr. Beare, I have a very high 
 regard and respect for you, and would not 
 wound your or Mrs. Beare's feelings inten- 
 tionally. This is a very painful subject." 
 On their being seated, he said, " I can 
 assure j'ou of my kind feelings towards 
 you, Mr. Beare, and towards your wife." 
 To this, Mr. Beare responded, " Do you 
 deny, sir, what Mrs. Beare saj'^s you were 
 guilty of ? " He said, " / do not deny it. 
 But Mrs. Beare has misunderstood or mis- 
 construed my viotines." He then said, 
 " Offer an apology to Mrs. Beare, and if 
 she demand any further apology, I am 
 ready to make it." 
 
 Tears stood in the eyes of the bishop, as 
 he made this declaration, and both he and 
 Mr. Beare were much affected. The pro- 
 testations of the bishop, as to his having 
 no improper intention, were repeated sev- 
 
 eral times. Dr. Milnor expressed to 
 Bishop Onderdonk, before parting, the 
 hope that what had occurred in this 
 instance would put him on his guard in 
 f utnre. To which the bishop replied, " In 
 regard to rumors of this kind, doctor, 
 about clergymen, there are few who have 
 not, at some time, had to encounter them." 
 Dr. Milnor then said, " I do not know how 
 that may be, but, in regard to myself, I 
 have been nearly thirty years in the min- 
 istry, and have never had occasion to 
 encounter such a difficulty." 
 
 The church and the communitj' were 
 filled with rumors of the bishop's conduct, 
 a considerable period preceding any initia- 
 tion of official inquiry into the case. 
 When, however, things took a legal shape, 
 according to the canons of the church, and 
 Bishop Onderdonk was notified by the 
 three jiresenting bishops, of their action in 
 the premises, he reiterated his absolute 
 and entire innocence, adding : " You have 
 had your ears open to all the gossip and 
 scandal which men reducing themselves to 
 the low caste of informers and panders, 
 could seek out and scrape together, for the 
 use of my inveterate enemies. It being 
 thus known that there were bishops here 
 who made it their business to receive, 
 examine, and sift such testimony, has done 
 more to bring public scandal on the church 
 than all else connected with this business, 
 and has given an intensity of malignant 
 effort to men desperately set upon my 
 ruin. You have thus been the means of 
 creating the public rumor which is, I 
 understand, an assumed ground of action 
 for the defense and purifying of the church. 
 Thus have you contributed to make me, and 
 through me our office, our church, and our 
 religion, a scoffing to the profane ; and done 
 not a little to aggravate my wretchedness, 
 and help the purpose of my enemies to 
 bring on my ruin. Contrast with all this 
 what you say of friendly and Christian 
 feelings towards me. You speak of having 
 been enabled to clear up satisfactorily one 
 of the most disacfreenhle of the charges 
 which had been laid before you. What 
 this is, you say not. Report, before I left 
 
404 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 PliilaJelphia, and since I came home, 
 lias said that you were in possession of an 
 affidavit cliarging me with pvetictice in a 
 house of iU-fami'. Tlie report, as was to 
 be expected, spread wild!}-. As was also 
 to be expected, it swelled in character 
 until the net was niaguitied into a habit. 
 As my friends, you were bound to give 
 me at once the name of my false accuser, 
 that he might be summarily prosecuted for 
 his villainy." Such was the storm of 
 accusation which the bishop had to breast, 
 and to meet which, according to the terms 
 of legal investigation, he was summoned 
 before his peers. 
 
 The solemn (convocation Avas held, the 
 anxiety and excitement of the public mind 
 being strained to their utmost tension. 
 The principal evidence in support of the 
 charges has already been cited. Its 
 extreme improbability was a leading point 
 in the masterly argument made by Mr. 
 Graham, in defense of the bishop. "Is it 
 possible," said Mr. Graham, " that any 
 man of sense — without saying one word — 
 without making a single advance in the 
 shape of language, either indelicate or 
 otherwise, as she states — with a lady of 
 wdioni 111' knew very little, could take such 
 liberties as those described ? Is it at all 
 within the limits of possibility, that a man 
 could, while riding, in broad daylight, in 
 company with a clergyman with whom he 
 was constantly engaged in conversation, 
 take such liberties with a lady sitting by 
 his side — thrust his hand into her bosom 
 repeatedly, and keep it there — and expect 
 to escape detection and exposure? Is it 
 possible that the circumstances could have 
 occurred, consistently with any of the 
 motives wliich ordinarily attach to human 
 action ? " Mr. Graham's plea was very 
 eloquent throughout. 
 
 In reply to tliis argument of impossibil- 
 ity, the counsel for the prosecution, Mr. 
 Ketchum, said: "I think what you may 
 regard impossible and revolting, wovdd be 
 testified to as qmtn possible 1)y yonder 
 man who stands at the corner watching to 
 betray female innocence, day after day ; 
 and by thousands in this city who are in 
 
 the very embraces of death. Give me the 
 man with strong lustful desires, unre- 
 strained by moral principle, and I tell you 
 that nothing is impossible to him. He 
 will accomjdish his object, and that in 
 ways utterly unsuspected and unknown by 
 the pure and virtuous man. The difficulty 
 in the case, and there is none other, is, 
 that the bishop would do the thing at all. 
 Now I may speak of a case which was 
 notorious. A few years ago, in a neigh- 
 boring city, there dwelt a minister of the 
 gospel, not an Episcopalian, learned, ac^ 
 complished — moving in the best society; 
 and 3'et that man would start with his 
 family for the house of God, and return on 
 some pretense or another to his dwelling, 
 and there perpetrate the most shocking 
 acts with his negro cook. Why, every man 
 said that was inifynssih/c, and it would not 
 have been believed if sworn to by the negro 
 cook; but in the honesty of his heart, 
 when he was found guilty of other offenses, 
 he confessed the whole. He laid the 
 whole open — he confessed his deeds, black 
 as they were — he submitted to the disci- 
 pline of his church. Now, we must not 
 talk of things being impossible." 
 
 After due deliberation, the final decision 
 of a majority of the court was, to declare 
 him guilty of immorality and impurity. 
 This was concurred in by Bishops Chase, 
 Brownell, Hopkins, Smith, Mcllvaine, 
 Polk, Lee, Johns, Eastburn, Henshaw, and 
 Freeman ; and sentence was thereupon 
 decreed, suspending the accused from all 
 exercise of his functions as minister and 
 bishop. Of the other bishops constituting 
 the court, some were in favor of a verdict 
 of not guilt}', others for admonition, etc. 
 The bishops not included in the majority 
 just named, were Messrs. Meade, Ote}', 
 Elliott, Ives, Doane, Kemper, DeLancey, 
 Gadsden, Wittingham. The final sentence 
 of suspension, however, was generall}' ac- 
 quiesced in. 
 
 Outside of the court, it was charged by 
 the friends of the accused, who were many, 
 and influential and unwavering, that per- 
 sonal and doctrinal hostility to Bishoj) 
 Onderdonk, was at the foundation of this 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 455 
 
 movement. The bisliop, supported by 
 siuli men as Seabury, Haight, lierrian, 
 MeVicai', Price, and Shelton, was regarded 
 as ui)liolding ' Higli Church' views; op- 
 jtosed to whicli were men like Anthon, 
 Tyng, Hawks, Duer, Oakley, etc. It was 
 alleged, too, that this same theological bit- 
 terness was the cause of the opposition so 
 strenuously made to the bishoj)'s restora- 
 tion to the episcopate in after years, not- 
 withstanding the efforts put forth by his 
 friends for the remission of his sentence. 
 
 Thus, in the zenith of their fame, these 
 two powerful bishops were struck down 
 from the highest ecclesiastical position 
 known in the Protestant Church. Bishop 
 Onderdonk, of Pennsylvania, received a 
 remission of his sentence after the lapse of 
 twelve years ; but age and infirmity pre- 
 vented other than occasional ministrations, 
 and he died soon after, in the seventieth 
 year of his age. A': the same age, like- 
 wise, died the suspended bishop of New 
 York, namely, on the thirtieth of April, 
 1861. His funeral took place at Trinity 
 church. Dr. Seabury preaching the funeral 
 sermon, and the pall-bearers were Rev. 
 Messrs. Southgate, Berrian, Creighton, 
 Brown, Price, Cutler, Hawks, Leonard, 
 Porter, Parker, Johnson, Gallaudet, Dra- 
 per, and others. All parties in the church 
 united to do honor to the memory of the 
 deceased. 
 
 In his last sickness, the bishop of New 
 York, though very weak in body, was fully 
 possessed of his mind, and conversed quite 
 
 freely. On being visited by Rev. Dr. 
 Vinton, Dr. Vinton suggested that if the 
 Ijisliup desired prayers, it woulil be gratis 
 fying to him to minister to him in that 
 way. He answered, "Do so, doctor: it 
 would be very comforting and desirable." 
 The " Office of the Visitation of the Sick" 
 was used, from the beginning to the end, 
 also the prayer for " A sick j)erson when 
 there appeareth but little hope of recovery." 
 
 The bishop made every response audibly, 
 while lying on his bed, with his hands 
 clasped and eyes looking up to heaven. 
 
 Among the questions to be asked in the 
 Examination of the Sick, are these : "Do 
 you repent you truly of your sins ? Are 
 you in charity with all the world ? " The 
 bishop closed his eyes while he spoke of 
 himself as a sinner, both in thought, word, 
 and deed; saying that "in his most earn- 
 est endeavors to live for Christ and the 
 church, as well as in exercising himself to 
 have a conscience void of offense towards 
 God and towards man, he saw infirmity 
 a]id pollution," — then, opening his eyes, 
 he added, "but the holiest man, equally 
 with the most sinful, finds, in the hour of 
 death, that every hope on which he relies 
 for salvation is dispersed but one — all but 
 one — our Savior, Jesus Christ. He is the 
 Rock of Ages." Then, looking Dr. 
 Vinton in the face, the bishop said with 
 solemn earnestness, " Of the crimes of 
 which I have been accused and for which 
 I have been condemned, my conscience 
 acquits me, in the sight of God." 
 
 "it stixoei'h like A>' addeu.' 
 
LII. 
 
 mSCOVERY OF THE INHALATION OF ETHER AS A PRE- 
 VENTIVE OF PAIN.— 1846. 
 
 Performance of Surgical Operations Involving the Intensest Torture, During the Happy Unconscious- 
 ness of the Patient. — Account of the First Capital Denionstration Before a Crowded and Breathless 
 Assembly. — Its Signal Success. — Thrill of Enthusiastic Joy — Most Beneficent Boon Ever Conferred 
 by Science upon the Human Race. — Instinctive Dread of Pain — Fruitless Search Hitherto for a Pre- 
 ventive. — Terror of the Probe and Knife. — Heroes Quail Before Them. — Case of the Bluff Old 
 Admiral. — Discovery of the Long-sought Secret. — Sulphuric Ether the Prize. — Bliss During Ampu- 
 tation — Honor Due to America. — A Whole World Elated. — Medical Men Exultant. — Curious Relig- 
 ious Objections — Test Case in Surgery. — Startling and Romantic Interest. — Value in Public Hos- 
 pitals. — War-Sufferings Ameliorated — Various Effects white Inhaling. — Amusing and Extraordinary 
 Cases.— " Thocht the Deil had a Grip o' her ! "—Odd Talk of an Innocent Damsel.— Old Folks 
 Wanting to Dance — Awards to the Discoverers. 
 
 '■ The fierce extremitf of sufferine has been steeped in the vraters of forgetfulneas, and the deepest furrow in the knotted brow o( 
 agony bus been smoothed forever."— Prof. O. W. Holues. 
 
 UMANITY — even tlie hardiest 
 and bravest portions of it — in- 
 stinctively shrinks, with dread, 
 from the pain attendant u[)on a 
 deliberate cutting of the living 
 flesh by surgical instruments. 
 The case is related of a bluff 
 old English admiral — one of the 
 stoutest hearts that ever beat, in 
 a service whose men of every 
 grade are, to a proverb, daunt- 
 KKLiicvmo PAIN nv TiTE USE OF F.THFR. Icss, — wlio, iu tlic opcuiug of liis 
 
 distinguished career, had been engaged in cutting out an enemy's frigate. From the 
 gun-boat, he climbed up the ship's steep side, and, foremost of his crew, had reached the 
 bulwarks, when, receiving a stunning blow, he fell into his boat again, striking his 
 back with great violence. Years afterwards, a tumor had grown on the injured 
 part; and at length the admiral — gray, and bent in years — found it advisable tbat 
 this growth should be removed. The man that never feared death in its most ghastly 
 and ai)palling form, now shrank from the surgeon's knife ; the removal, contemplated by 
 the man of many battles with feeling almost akin to childish fear, was long deferred; 
 and at length, half stupefied by opium though he was, a most unsteady patient did he 
 prove during the operation. 
 
GREAT AND JMEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 457 
 
 Numberless instances liave there been, 
 too, of women — mothers — who, for their 
 kindred, have been at any time ready to sac- 
 rifice tlieir lives,by watcliing and i)rivation, 
 in loathsome and tainted chambers of infec- 
 tious disease, but, when themselves be- 
 came victims of that which they knew re- 
 quired a surgical operation, and which, 
 without this, they were well assured must 
 miserably consume them away, — even 
 these noble minds, resolute in the prospect 
 of death, have yet quailed under the fear 
 of surgical suffering; they have studiously 
 concealed their malady from their nearest 
 friends, and deliberately preferred the 
 misery of a fatal, and unchecked, and 
 gnawing cancer, to the apprehended tor- 
 ture of an operation, temporary though it 
 be. This feeling has been universal, in 
 all ages, among the victims of keen physi- 
 cal suffering. 
 
 From time immemorial, means have 
 been sought, and with partial success, to 
 relieve and even to destroy pain, during 
 the manipulations of practical surgery. 
 For this purpose, opium, Indian hemp, 
 mesmerism, and nitrous oxide gas and 
 alcohol, have been employed, and all in 
 their turn abandoned, except that opium 
 in many cases, and mesmerism in a few, 
 still continued to be used with imperfect 
 success, and almost always with the subse- 
 quent disadvantage of headache, feverish- 
 ness, or other general disorder. 
 
 It ivas rtiseroed for the slinjile inhala- 
 tion of a certain gas — pure sulpliii.ric 
 ether — to achieve in surgery that for which 
 surgeons had for centuries labored, and 
 labored in vain ! 
 
 This was in 1846. A certain old gentle- 
 man, however, — as the case is narrated, — 
 was not altoorether a stranger to the com- 
 forting effects of this same anodyne pro- 
 cess, some forty years previously. He had 
 discovered that the fumes of ether could 
 lull him into forgetfulness of the pains 
 and disquietude of a bustling and check- 
 ered life. He was a man of research in 
 his way ; curious in beds, baths, and pro- 
 fessing to understand disease and its cure 
 better bj' far than his fellows. But he 
 
 was loose in principle, as well as weak in 
 science, and no doubt, most deservedly, 
 had many roughnesses in life which he 
 could wisli to rub away. His mode was 
 this : Obtaining an ounce or two of 
 ether, he leisurely sniffed up its v;ipor, sit- 
 ting softly the while, and manifestly en- 
 joying a tinie of calmness and repose, 
 greatly to his liking. Indeed, on being 
 interrogated, he was in the habit of 
 blandly answering, " soothing, sir, sooth' 
 ing to an immeasurable degree." In this 
 oblivion to the disgusting harassments 
 of life, he was in the habit of indulging 
 many times a day. He had curiously dis- 
 covered that the fumes of ether could 
 relieve, temporarily, from the pains of a 
 mind ill at ease ; but he was not to know 
 that it could still more wonderfully 
 assuage the body's worst suffering. 
 
 The divulgement of this most beneficent 
 boon to the world since man's moral re- 
 demption — by which the :nost dreaded of 
 surgical operations can be performed dur- 
 ing a happy unconsciousness of the patient 
 — not merely with little suffering, but ab- 
 solutely with none — is due to three Ameri- 
 cans, namely, Drs. Morton, Jackson, and 
 Wells ; but to which of these is due the 
 priority or chief merit of the discovery, is 
 a question long and bitterly discussed, and 
 still undecided. Certainly, however, the 
 proceedings of each of these gentlemen, in 
 connection with the discovery, show un- 
 doubted scientific acuteness, ingenuity, 
 zeal and perseverance. 
 
 The enthusiasm with which the an- 
 nouncement of this marvelous discovery 
 was received may well be described as 
 unbounded. Wafted across the Atlantic, 
 it was at once hailed with rapturous ex- 
 ultation in England, and speedily adopted 
 in most of the large hospitals throughout 
 the kingdom — also, in the vast hospitals 
 of Paris, and in the numerous institutions 
 of like character in Germany, including 
 those so celebrated at Vienna and Berlin. 
 
 Still, there were not wanting those who 
 regarded the discovery with distrust, and 
 some of the public medical institutions 
 barred their doors against the new alle- 
 
458 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 viating agent. Objections based on relig- 
 ious grounds were urged against the em- 
 ployment of ether. Pain, it was argued, 
 was the natural and intended consequence 
 of the primal sin, and therefore any attempt 
 to do away with it must be wrong. These 
 objectors failed to see that their argument, 
 if it prov^ed anything, proved too much, 
 since it held with equal cogency against 
 any and every remedial agency, in all 
 cases whatsoever. Others opposed the 
 anaesthetic on the ground that pain is sal- 
 utary, and that its annihilation would be 
 
 this, it was alleged that the new agent 
 might be used for infamous purposes. " A 
 fatal habit," it was said, '' had sprung up 
 of using ether, like opium, for purjjoses of 
 exhilaration, to all intents intoxication. 
 A burglar forced his way into a mansion 
 when all its occupants were in profound 
 slumber, and, applying ether to them, he 
 had the house all to himself." Frequeiit 
 accidents, moreover, resulted from the use 
 of impure ether by unskillful hands, so fre- 
 quent, indeed, that prosecution was threat- 
 ened for administering it at all. 
 
 THE THREE CLAIMANTS OF THE DISCOVERY OF PAINLESS SURGERY, BY ETHER. 
 
 hazardous to the patient. And an emi- 
 nent physiologist expressed the doubt 
 whether there were a true advantage in 
 suppressing pain. " It is a trivial mat- 
 ter," said this stoic, "to suffer, and a dis- 
 covery whose object is the prevention of 
 pain is of slight interest." 
 
 Then, too, letters came pouring in upon 
 the discoverer from all over the civilized 
 world, upbraiding him with having an- 
 nounced the claims of a humbug. He 
 also received constant visits from profes- 
 sional gentlemen, who questioned the ac- 
 curacy of the experiments. "Worse than 
 
 But the domain of the grim demon, 
 Pain, having once been successfully in- 
 vaded, humanit}' and science were ill-dis- 
 posed to yield the vantage ground. One 
 of the most eminent professors of surgery 
 in America, Dr. 0. W. Holmes, said : 
 " The knife is searching for disease — the 
 pulleys are dragging back dislocated 
 limbs — nature herself is working out the 
 primal curse, which doomed the tenderest 
 of her creatures to the sharpest of her 
 trials ; but the fierce extremity of her 
 suffering has been steeped in the waters 
 of forgetfulness, and the deepest furrow 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 450 
 
 in the knotted brow of agony lias been 
 smoothed forever." So, too, that world- 
 renowned surgeon and anatomist, Dr. 
 John C. AVarren,— -grave, venerable, and 
 dispassionate, — exclaimed : 
 
 " Who could haoe iiiiaf/ined, that draiv- 
 ing the knife over the delicate skin of the 
 face might produce a sensation of un- 
 mixed delight! — tJutt the turning and 
 twisting of instruments in the most sensi- 
 tive bladder might be accompanied bij a 
 beautiful dream!'''' 
 
 It was natural enough, certainly, that 
 benevolence should prompt the humane 
 surgeon to such utterances of congratula- 
 tion, for it supplied to him a desideratum, 
 long sought, for the relief of the excrucia- 
 ting pain they were necessarily obliged to 
 inflict in the practice of their profession. 
 For screaming, and struggles, and intense 
 suffering under the surgeon's knife, ether- 
 ization substituted complete exemption 
 from pain, associated in some with the 
 quietude, mental and corporeal, of deep 
 sleep ; in others, with pleasing dreams, 
 imaginar}^ busy scenes, and sweet music ; 
 and in others, with a perfect consciousness 
 of surrounding objects and events. The 
 obstetrician finds in it the means of alle- 
 viating that distress with which woman 
 has always been afflicted, when in the 
 act of becoming a mother. To the physi- 
 cian it affords one of the most useful, as 
 it is one of his most prompt, remedies. 
 He, before, had no reliable means of re- 
 lieving the spasms of tetanus; he not 
 unfrequently failed to procure sleep, in 
 delirium tremens, when the question was 
 one of sleep or death ; his before pallia- 
 tive remedy, opium, for the j^ain of colic, 
 too often purchased temporary relief at the 
 expense of an aggravation of the cause of 
 the disease, and of increased difficulties in 
 its cure ; and he occasionally witnessed 
 the breaking up of the system of a neu- 
 ralgic patient, more as a consequence of 
 repeated large doses of opium, than of the 
 disease itself. 
 
 Heretofore, also, the shock of all serious 
 operations had been formidable. The 
 patient, however resigned and courageous, 
 
 Avas deeply impressed in .system ; the 
 jiulse became feeble, the surface cold and 
 pale, the eye dim, i-espiration troubled, 
 and the whoje powers of life brought low. 
 With the use of ether, this is otherwise. 
 Parturition may take [>lace, thighs may be 
 amputated, stones extracted, tumors re- 
 moved, dentistry in all its branches per- 
 formed ; the chief deviations from the nor- 
 mal characters of health being, in all these 
 cases, such as are known to be the effects of 
 ether — and, accordingly, both manageable 
 and transient. In the ai'my, it has been 
 found of incalculable service, in cases re- 
 quiring the iise of the probe and and knife, 
 — th« sadly ample opportunity in this field 
 during the war in the Crimea, in Mexico, 
 and on the battle-grounds of the South, 
 adding fresh triumphs to the discovery. 
 
 It will be interesting to give, at this 
 point, an account of the first surgical 
 operation ^yerformed under the influence 
 of ether, the result of which so fully de- 
 monstrated this glorious truth of science. 
 It occurred at the Massachusetts General 
 Hospital, the operator being Dr. Haj^ward. 
 
 In his own narration of the circum- 
 stances of this deeply interesting and most 
 important occasion. Dr. Hay ward says : " It 
 was my fortune to perform the first capital 
 operation on a patient rendered insensible 
 by the inhalation of sulphuric ether. It 
 rarely falls to the lot of a professional 
 man to be the witness of a scene of more 
 intense interest. The operating-room was 
 crowded ; many were obliged to stand. 
 Besides the class of students in attend- 
 ance on the lectures, numbering more than 
 one hundred, and many of the principal 
 l^hysicians and surgeons of the city and 
 neighborhood, there were present several 
 clergymen, lawyers, and other individuals, 
 from the various callings of life. When 
 I entered the theater, before the patient 
 was brought in, I found it, to my surprise, 
 filled in every part, except the floor on 
 which the table stood, with persons on 
 whose countenances was depicted the al- 
 most painful anxiety Avith which they 
 awaited the result of the experiment they 
 were about to witness. I simply told them 
 
460 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 that I had decided, with the advice of my 
 colleagues, to allow the patient on whom I 
 was to operate, to inhale an article which 
 was said to have the jjower of annulling 
 pain. The patient was then brought in. 
 She was a delicate looking girl of about 
 twenty years of age, who had suffered for 
 a long time from a scrofulous disease of 
 the knee-joint. It had at length sui> 
 purated ; there were extensive openings 
 into the cavity of the joint ; the cartilages 
 were ulcerated, and partly absorbed ; the 
 bones carious, and symptoms of hectic 
 fever had already made their appearance. 
 As soon as she was well arranged on the 
 table I told her that I should let her 
 breatlie something which I hoped would 
 prevent her from suffering much from the 
 operation, and that she need not be afraid 
 of breathing it freely." The critical 
 nature of this case can easily be appre- 
 ciated, even by the unprofessional mind, 
 and the result is fraught with deep and 
 romantic interest. 
 
 It being desirable that the amputation 
 should be performed as rapidly as possible, 
 Dr. Hay ward decided to accomplisli it 
 by means of the flap operation. One per- 
 son was to compress the artery, another to 
 withdraw the flaps, a third to hand the in- 
 struments, a ad a fourth to watch the pulse. 
 Dr. HajMvard grasped the patient's limb 
 with his left hand, and held the amputat- 
 ing knife behind him in his right, care- 
 fully concealed from her view. The 
 mouth-piece of the inhaling instrument 
 was then put into her mouth, and she was 
 directed to take long inspirations. After 
 breathing in this way a short time, the 
 nostrils were compressed, so that all the 
 air that went into the lungs must first 
 pass through the machine, and of course 
 be mixed with the vapor of the ether. 
 Slie breathed with perfect ease, and with- 
 out struggling, and in about three minutes 
 from the time the instrument was put 
 into her mouth, Dr Morton said, 'She is 
 ready.' A death-like silence reigned in 
 the room ; no one moved, or hardly 
 breathed. The doctor passed the knife 
 directly through the limb, and brought it 
 
 out as rapidly as he could, and made the 
 upper flap. The patient gave no sign of 
 feeling or consciousness, but looked like 
 one in a deep, quiet sleep. Every other 
 person in the room took a full inspiration 
 that was distinctly audible, and seemed to 
 feel that they could now bi'eathe again. 
 The second flap was then made, the bone 
 sawed, five arteries were tied, and as the 
 doctor was tightening the ligature upon 
 the sixth and last she groaned, being the 
 first indication of sensibility that had 
 been given. Nothing more was done than 
 to bring the flaps together, cover the 
 stump with cloths dipi)ed in cold water, 
 and apply two or three turns of a roller to 
 \s.eep them in place. Her consciousness 
 soon returned ; she was wholhj i'jiiontnt 
 that the operation liad been done! For 
 some time she would not believe it, and 
 said that she had felt nothing till the 
 doctor tied the last artery. The operation 
 lasted a minute and three-quarters. 
 
 The phenomena, or effects, produced by 
 the administration of ether, are extremely 
 various, depending much, of course, upon 
 the temperament, habits, and condition of 
 the patient. Sometimes the dream is ex- 
 quisitely charming, and the patient seems 
 passed into another and a better world. 
 Sometimes the opposite state obtains, the 
 patient betraj'ing manifest uneasiness 
 while in the trance, by restless, staring, 
 anguished eye-balls, by groaning, and by 
 wrestling movements of the body. And 
 these are not loath to emerge from the 
 effects of the drug, while the former part 
 with them grudgingly. One poor girl, for 
 instance, had struggled hard during an 
 amputation, _yet felt no pain ; and, on com- 
 ing to herself, thunkfrdness was expressed 
 in every feature, as well as by her blithe 
 tongue, for .'^he " thocltt the deli had a 
 yripo' hi'v (C the tltneP 
 
 In some cases, the dreamer is falling from 
 a great height rapidly, down and down into 
 some unfathomable abyss. In otlier cases, 
 the dream is warlike ; personal to the 
 dreamer; or of by-gone days, implicating 
 some great military demonsti-ation ; and 
 the crack of tooth-pulling has thus passed 
 
GREAT AND IMEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 461 
 
 off as the din of ordnance. Sometimes, in 
 youth, the dream has been " all fun ;" and 
 the dreamer has been anxious to be back 
 into the midst of his pleasant pastime 
 again, even at the cost of another tooth- 
 drawing. The patient, if a wanderer, and 
 then in a strange land, may dream pleas- 
 antly of home — " she had been home, it 
 was beautiful, and she had been gone a 
 month ; " so said one poor woman in the 
 midst of what, without the ether, would 
 have been agony. 
 
 Sometimes the dream passes steadily on 
 to completion, sometimes it is abruptly 
 closed by some critical procedure on the 
 part of the operator — the extraction of a 
 tooth, with a sudden Avrench, for example. 
 A soldier dreams of guns and bayonets, 
 and strife, and clamor ; a sailor, of ships, 
 and storms, and grog ; an Irishman of 
 whiskey and shillalahs, and a " skrim- 
 mage ; " a boy of marbles, tops, and "lots 
 of fun ; " a mother, of home and children ; 
 a girl, of gala-days and finery. 
 
 A tippler fancies he is in the grog-shop, 
 and there he may enjoy himself hugely — 
 or he may dream " his wife came to fetch 
 him." Quarrelsome men grow pugilistic, 
 and coats may be doffed with appropriate 
 accompaniment of word and action. 
 Young men, having some one in their list 
 of female acquaintance dearer than the 
 rest, grow active lovers, and in lone walks, 
 earnest conversations, or soft whisperings, 
 seem to make rare progress in their suit. 
 The swearing and dissolute may indulge 
 in oaths and profane jests. The man of 
 fervent piety, who is habitually looking 
 heavenward, may not only suppose himself 
 translated to the realms of bliss, but may 
 take part in imagined exercises there. A 
 patient of this class was known thus to 
 employ himself immediately after a pain- 
 ful operation ; four verses of a psalm were 
 sung by him very loudly, with his eyes 
 fixed, his body in a tremor, and intense 
 fervor shown in every movement ; he 
 would not be interrupted, and could 
 scarcely be prevailed upon to leave the 
 operation-room, seeing that he found him- 
 self so wonderfully happy there — said he 
 
 had been in heaven, and had seen his 
 Savior; on reaching his bed, he fell on liis 
 knees and was rapt in prayer. 
 
 Not always, however, is the dream con- 
 sistent with the character. Among the 
 instances showing this, is that of a young, 
 simpering and innocent damsel, who, 
 addressing a most amiable and excellent 
 dentist, knitting her brow into something 
 more than a frown, clenching her fist, and 
 scowling defiance, vowed in the most up- 
 roarious tone and manner, that if he ven- 
 tured near her with his profane touch, 
 "big blackguard, as he was, s/ie'd knock 
 him doivny And so, too, staid, demure, 
 elderly persons, have, in most abandoned 
 gayety, insisted on the operator forthwith 
 joining them in a joyous polka ! 
 
 In plain language, as in plain fact — says 
 an English reviewer, whose interesting 
 resume is here quoted — the j^f^itient is 
 drunk. Sometimes the consciousness of 
 this condition is made apparent by the 
 sensations which are induced in the early 
 period of inhalation. " You'll have me 
 drunk ! " cried one ; " Oh, you rascals ! I 
 know what you are ; " evidently supposing 
 that he had fallen into loose societ}^, and 
 that his companions had a design on him. 
 But it is on coming out of the trance, that 
 the intoxication shows most. The patient 
 sways as he tries to stand ; is garrulous, 
 sprightly, and humorous; and often in- 
 sists on shaking hands with all and 
 sundry. The unsteadiness of gait, and 
 lightness of head, sometimes have an 
 inconvenient duration, as is illustrated in 
 the case of a most worthy lady, who, leav- 
 ing the dentist too soon, had to grope her 
 way along the railing of the street, in 
 noonday, and ran no slight risk of losing 
 all reputation for sobriety. 
 
 Among the many amusing examples of 
 the effect produced by the administration 
 of the antesthetic — in addition to its pri- 
 mary quality of annulling pain — the follow- 
 ing may be cited : An Irish woman, who 
 had never heard of ether previous to call- 
 ing upon the dentist for the purpose of 
 having a large molar tooth extracted, took 
 it on being told that she would suffer no 
 
462 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876 
 
 pain, and would, probably, have an inter- 
 view witli her friends in the old country. 
 Just as its influence commenced, the 
 doctor remarked that he would like to 
 have her observe what occupation her 
 friends were engaged in, if she succeeded 
 in finding them. The tooth was drawn ; 
 she moved not a muscle of the face, but 
 remained as in a quiet sleep, for about one 
 
 machinery, declared herself unhurt by the 
 operation, and wished the doctor to see if 
 there was not '^'^ another tooth xchat wanted 
 to he draic.^^ 
 
 Another example of this class, was that 
 of a middle-aged Irishman, who had sus- 
 tained compound fracture of the leg. The 
 fracture had not united, in consequence of 
 the presence of a dead piece of bone, and 
 
 MONUMENT ERECTED IN HONOR OF THE DISCOVERY OF ETHER. 
 
 minute. Upon opening her eyes, she 
 exclaimed, "I have seen all my friends; 
 they were engaged in spinning — and don't 
 I hear their wheels now, sure ? " She 
 said it appearel to her as though she hud 
 been absent many months. Slie recol- 
 lected that she went home in a steam 
 vessel, heard the noise of steam and 
 
 it became necessary to remove this by a 
 painful operation, in the following manner : 
 The patient was seated on a table, and 
 the inhalation was applied. At first, little 
 effect was produced, but after some min- 
 utes, tlie jiatient fell backwards, as in a 
 swoon. Tlie operator was then about to 
 proceed : but the man immediately ob- 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE E^rENTS. 
 
 463 
 
 jected, saying that "he was not asleep, and 
 that lie trusted nothing would be done 
 till he was asleep." For full twenty min- 
 utes more the inhalation went on, the man 
 confused and talkative, but wide-awake, 
 and occasionally expressing verj^ emphati- 
 cally his conviction that " it would not do." 
 At length, however, while in this wakeful 
 state, the operation was begun. Incisions 
 were made on the shin, and flaps were dis- 
 sected off so as to expose the bone beneath. 
 A portion of this was sawn and clipped 
 through, and then the dead bone was 
 removed. Only during the clipping of the 
 bone with strong straining pliers did any 
 sign of feeling escape from the patient, 
 who was busy inhaling all the while, and 
 now and then protesting that "it wouldn't 
 do." The operation occupied about ten 
 minutes, and, from the highly sensitive 
 nature of the parts involved, must have 
 been attended with excruciating suffering 
 under ordinary circumstances. After it 
 was over, the operator said to the patient — 
 
 "I suppose you won't let me operate 
 to-day ? " 
 
 "Certainly not," replied the patient, 
 "it won't do; I must be asleep. The 
 thing hasn't succeeded with me, and I am 
 sure it can't succeed with any one else, for 
 I did everything I could to get asleep, for 
 my own sake, and I'd do anything to plase 
 you." 
 
 " Then you won't even let me make a 
 cut into the leg ? " 
 
 " No ; I must be asleep ; we can try it 
 another time." 
 
 This plain proof of his utter unconscious- 
 ness of the operation having been per- 
 formed was acknowledged by the specta- 
 tors in a hearty round of applause. The 
 patient then sat up, and, seeing the wound, 
 burst into an immoderate fit of laughter, 
 saying— 
 
 "No doubt there^s blood, or something 
 very like it; but I haven't felt a single 
 thing done to my leg. That hates the 
 globe ! " 
 
 On being asked decidedly as to his 
 having felt anything, he repeatedly an- 
 swered "Not a ha' porth." He got into 
 
 amazing spirits, and refused to leave the 
 room until he had told ''all al)Out the tol- 
 drums of the business." And then, with 
 the manner of a tipsy man, and very 
 happy, he kept surgeons and students in a 
 roar of laughter for some minutes witli a 
 narrative of his condition during the in- 
 halation, which, Irish-like, seemed to have 
 an interminable medley of imaginary 
 fights and "killings" going on around 
 him. 
 
 It has already been stated, that Drs. 
 Jackson, Morton, and Wells, respective!}', 
 claim the honor of having discovered this 
 great fact in chemical and medical science, 
 and the claim of each is supported by a 
 formidable army of names and evidence. 
 One of the most candid investigators of 
 the character and weight of these several 
 and conflicting claims, has presented the 
 case in this light, namely: That to Dr. 
 Wells unquestionably belongs the merit 
 of having first demonstrated the happy 
 idea of deadening sensibility in jiainful 
 oj^erations, by using both nitrous oxide 
 and sulphuric ether; that to Dr. Jackson, 
 the thanks of the world are due for lend- 
 ing that influence which his well-earned 
 reputation qualified him to do, in estab- 
 lishing confidence in the public mind in 
 the use of sulphuric ether, as a substitute 
 for the nitrous oxide ; and that, to Dr. 
 Morton's indefatigable exertions in secur- 
 ing the attention of leading medical men 
 to the subject, was due the rapid adoption 
 of suljduiric ether in connection with the 
 practice of surgery. But, singularly 
 enough, though the French Academy has 
 acknowledged, by jiecuniary and honorary 
 awards, the indebtedness of mankind to 
 the American discoverers of this vast 
 blessing to humanity, the American gov- 
 ernment has thus far failed to confer any 
 reward upon any one of the distinguished 
 claimants. A costly and superb monu- 
 ment, designed and executed with con- 
 summate skill by Ward, the eminent 
 sculptor, and erected at the cost of a 
 wealthy citizen of Boston, in honor of this 
 great discovery, now adorns the public 
 garden of that cit}'. 
 
LIII. 
 
 INVENTION OF THAT WONDROUS PIECE OF MECHANISM, 
 
 THE SEWING-MACHINE.— 1846. 
 
 Eomantic Genius and Perseverance Displayed in its Production — Toils of the Inventor in His Garret. 
 — World Wide Introduction of the Device — Upwards of One Tliousand Patents Taken Out in the 
 United States — Tiie Industrial Interests of tlie Country Affected to the Amount of $500,000,000 
 Annually. — The Humble Inventor Becomes a Millionaire. — The Main Princijjle Involved. — Compari- 
 son with Hand Sewing — How it was Suggested, — Listening to Some Advantaj:e. — History of Mr 
 Howe's Efforts — Ingenuity, Struggles, Triumphs. — Value of a Friend in Need — A Machine at Lai-t. 
 — Its Parts, Capabilities, etc. — Reception by the Public. — Doubt Succeeded by Admiralion. — Great 
 Popularity and Demand. — Wearisome Litigation with Rivals — Interesting Question of Priority — 
 Decided in Howe's Favor — He Rises to Affluence — Improvements by Others — Unique and Useful 
 Devices. — Number of Maciiines Produced. — Time and Labor Saved. — Effect Upon Prices — New 
 Avenues of Labor Opened. 
 
 "The invention all admired. 
 
 And each how he to be the inventor misled. 
 
 So phiiii It seeniC'l oni-e tound — which yet un-found. 
 
 Must would have tliuught impossible." 
 
 - J 
 
 THE INVENTOK TOIUXO IN HIS 0.\RUET. 
 
 IFFEEENCE of opinion there may 
 be, 'svitli regard to tlie abstraot 
 question, wlio first conceived tlie 
 ^^^^ — peculiar principle involved in 
 sewing by inacbinery, and even 
 in respect to who was the original con- 
 structor of a machine capable of fulfilling 
 this idea ; but, so far as actual demonstra- 
 tion of its feasibleness and titility is con- 
 cerned, and for the great results which 
 have followed that demonstration, the world 
 must be considered as indebted to Elias 
 Howe, Jr., a Massachusetts mechanic, born 
 and reared in obscure circumstances, and 
 at an early age thrown upon his own 
 resources of industrious endeavor, for simple sub- 
 sistence. 
 
 It may be remarked, as a general fact, that the 
 peculiar or original principle characterizing the 
 modern sewing-machine, consists in the use of two 
 threads, one being fed by a needle, and the other — 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 465 
 
 the wrong side tliroad, or, as it has been 
 termed, the auxiliary thread — being sup- 
 plied by a shuttle and bobbin. The needle 
 is secured to a stock, whose movement, 
 caused by arms and levers, drives its point 
 throusli the material to be sewed: the 
 eye of the needle, at a moderate distance 
 from the point, carries the thread through 
 and then retires leaving a loop, through 
 wh'.eh loop a shuttle is passed, on the 
 under side of the material to be sewed; 
 this shuttle carries a quantity of thread 
 upon a spool, which it supplies as the seam 
 progresses. The needle on retiring draws 
 up the loop, and thus closes the seam, 
 Avhich on the upper or face side of the 
 work presents the appearance of what is 
 called a 'row of stitching,' and on the 
 under, a close resemblance, but differing 
 slightly. The return, or rotation of the 
 shuttle in its orbit, is a matter of course, 
 and the work thus goes on continuously 
 and with great rapidity. 
 
 The feed, or the progressive movement 
 of the material to be sewed under the 
 needle, is accomplished in various ways — 
 primarily, by means of the friction of a 
 feeding wheel, whose roughened surface 
 creates sufficient adhesion to move the 
 material forward at the requisite intervals. 
 This feed is effected by the ordinary 
 means of a racket- wdi eel and click, or paul, 
 the latter being capable of adjustment 
 through shifting levers, so as to give a 
 longer or shorter stitch, at the wall of the 
 operator, or the requirements of the work. 
 
 These devices and arrangements, wdtli 
 such improved modifications as experience 
 and ingenuity have suggested from time to 
 time, constitute the American sewing- 
 machine. 
 
 Although the use of the sewung-machine 
 has become general only within a compar- 
 atively recent period, the instrument is, 
 in a certain sense, an old invention. The 
 needle with the eye in the center, and 
 double-pointed, is beautifull}' employed in 
 the embroidery machine, which is an old 
 French device. This machine worked 
 upon cloth as many as sixty similar figures 
 or flowers at the same time ; the whole 
 30 
 
 being directed by one hand, who, by the 
 aid of a pentagraphic guide on a prepared 
 I^attern, pointed the needles to their appro- 
 priate place of entrance, and returned them 
 with unerring certainty and exactitude. 
 The earliest form of stitch made use of 
 was the 'chain stitch,' which is still 
 employed for ornamental purposes, but is 
 not approved of where strength and dura- 
 bility are required. The next stitch in 
 order was the ' running stitch,' and was 
 accomplished by means of a needle having 
 an eye in the middle and points at each 
 end ; this has been extensively used for 
 the cheaper kinds of work, but does not 
 insure durabilit}'. The next form of stitch 
 is that already described, as formed by 
 means of two threads, with a needle and 
 shuttle ; — and this opens up the wonderful 
 era of modern sewing-machines, beginning 
 with the introduction to the public of that 
 by Mr. Howe. 
 
 It would be impossible to follow Mr. 
 Howe through all the details of his varied 
 experience during his early years. Suffice 
 it to say, that it was at Boston, when in 
 his twentieth year, and after he had 
 learned the rudiments of his trade in one 
 of the machine shops of Lowell, and sub- 
 sequently in Cambridge, working side by 
 side with Nathaniel P. Banks, that the 
 thought of sewing by machinery was first 
 suggested to his mind. As related by 
 Mr. Parton, in his admirable magazine 
 sketch of Howe, this singularly fortuitous 
 incident happened in this wise : — In the 
 year 1839, two men in Boston, one a 
 mechanic and the other a capitalist, were 
 striving to produce a knitting-machine, 
 which proved to be a task beyond their 
 strength. When the inventor was at his 
 wit's end, his capitalist brought the 
 machine to the shop of Ari Davis, to see 
 if that eccentric genius could suggest the 
 solution of the difficulty, and make the ma- 
 chine work. The shop, resolving itself into 
 a committee of the whole, gathered about 
 the knitting-machine and its proprietor, 
 and were listening to an explanation of its 
 principle, when Davis, in his wild, extrava« 
 gaut way, broke in with the question — 
 
466 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 " What are you bothering yourselves 
 Avitli a knitting-machine for ? Wliy don't 
 you make a sewing-machine ? " 
 
 '• I wish I could," said the capitalist : 
 "but it can't be done." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it can," said Davis ; " I can 
 make a sewing-maichine myself." 
 
 "Well," said the other, "you do it, 
 Davis, and I'll insure j'ou an independent 
 fortune." 
 
 Among the workmen -who stood hy and 
 listened to this conversation — and in this 
 instance at least the old adage concern- 
 ing listeners apj)ears to have been reversed 
 — says Parton, was Howe ; and from that 
 time he was in the habit, in his leisure 
 
 and reflection he produced the first Ttia- 
 chine that ever sewed a seam, and he was 
 soon the wearer of a suit of clothes made 
 hij its assistance. This first machine, 
 which is one of great beauty and fmisli, is 
 still in existence, an object of peculiar 
 interest to the curious who inspect it; and 
 it will sew ten times as fast as a woman 
 can sew by hand. Having patented the 
 machine, and finding the tailors of Amer- 
 ica averse to its introduction, ho went to 
 England, Avhere he succeeded in selling 
 two machines; but found so little encour- 
 agement that he would have starved to 
 death but for the aid of friends, and he 
 resolved to return home, or at least to send 
 his family. So pinched was he, 
 while in London, that he fre- 
 quently borrowed small sums of 
 his friend, Mr. Inglis — on one 
 occasion a shilling, with which he 
 bought some beans, and cooked 
 and ate them in his own room, — 
 and through him also obtained 
 some credit for provisions. Ar- 
 riving home, after an absence of 
 about two 3^ears, he found that the 
 sewing-machine was a conspicuous 
 object of public attention ; doubt 
 had been succeeded by admiration 
 of its qualities ; and seA'eral ingen- 
 ious men having experimented, 
 had finally improved upon the ma- 
 chine as oriffinallv constructed. 
 
 -r-y^ t,:: 
 
 moments, of meditating devices for sewing 
 by machinery. Having inherited a con- 
 stitution hardly strong enough for the 
 w'ork of a machinist, and burdened oven 
 in his opening manhood with the caro of a 
 growing family, his attention was more 
 and more concentrated upon the project 
 of building a machine which would furnish 
 him a liveliliood more easily earned. In 
 December, 1845, upon a small capital, pro- 
 vided by the generosity of an old friend, 
 he shut himself up in a garret at Cam- 
 bridge, and set himself seriously to the 
 task of inventing a sewing machine. 
 After about six months of incessant labor 
 
 ar of litigation ensued, and, 
 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 loft a shadow of doubt tliat, for all 
 the benefit conferred upon the ])ublic by 
 the introduction of a sowing-inacliine, the 
 public are indebted to INIr. Howe.' To 
 him, therefore, all other inventors or 
 improvers had to ]>ay tribute. From 
 being a poor man, Howe became, in a 
 few years, one of the most noted mil- 
 lionaires in America ; and his Imst, exe- 
 cuted by Ellis, shows a man of marked 
 personal appearance and striking natural 
 endowments. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 467 
 
 Bat liere the very singular circumstances 
 relating to the alleged priority' of Mr. 
 AValter 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 Amos 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 Avas of very little general 
 utility. These machines of "Walter Hunt 
 all contained the invention of the curved 
 needle with the eye near the point, 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 witli 
 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 beyond 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 
 affidavits 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 oper- 
 ative instrument, and should contain 
 all the parts which were preserved of 
 the old machine, with such others as were 
 necessarj^ 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. 
 
 AVithout 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 by 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 Avitnessing its 
 weird and agile movement while its enthu- 
 siastic proprietor essays 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 
 
468 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 THE OLD AND NEW 
 
 noeJle used lias the eye that is to receive 
 :he thread witliin a small distance, say an 
 eighth of an inch, of its inner or pointed 
 end, the other or outer end of the needle 
 being held by an arm that vibrates on a 
 pivot or joint pin, the curvature of the 
 needle being such as to correspond with 
 the length of the arm as its radius. 
 
 When the thread is carried through the 
 cloth, which may be done to the distance 
 of about three-fourths of an inch, the thread 
 will be stretched above the curved needle, 
 something in the manner of a bowstring, 
 leaving a small open space between the 
 two. A small shuttle, carrying a bobbin 
 filled with silk or thread, is then made to 
 pass entirely through this open space, 
 between the needle and the thread which 
 it carries ; and when the shuttle is re- 
 turned, which is done by means of a picker 
 staff or shuttle-driver, the thread which 
 ^vas carried in by the needle is surrounded 
 by that I'eceivcd from the shuttle ; as the 
 needle is drawn out, it forces that which 
 was received from the shuttle into the 
 body of the cloth ; and as this operation 
 is repeated, a seam is formed which has on 
 
 SEWI.NG BY HAND AND MACHINE. 
 
 each side of the cloth the same appearance 
 as that given by stitching, with this pecu- 
 liarity, that the thread sewn on one side 
 of the cloth is exclusively that which was 
 given out by the needle, and the thread 
 seen on the other side is exclusivel}' 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, Avhich jjroject out 
 from a metallic plate, like the teeth of a 
 comb, but at a considerable distance from 
 each other, — say three-fourths of an inch, 
 more or less, — these pointed wires sustain- 
 ing the cloth, and answering the purpose of 
 ordinary basting. The metallic plate from 
 which these wires project has numerous 
 holes 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 most formidable of ^Ir. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 459 
 
 Howe's competitors, as a- successful in- 
 ventor and niauufacturei", was Mr. I. M. 
 Singer. His biographer speaks of him as 
 a mechanic of some ingenuity but of small 
 means, who, taking up with a casual sug- 
 gestion made to liim by a comrade, that a 
 sewing-machine capable of doing a greater 
 vnrleti/ of work would be a profitable 
 thing, ceased all other labor, and, borrow- 
 ing forty or fifty dollars of iiis friend Mr. 
 Zieber, applied himself unremittingly to 
 tlie accomplishment of his task. He 
 worked, as he states, day and night, sleep- 
 ing but three or four hours out of the 
 twenty-four, and eating generally but 
 once a day, knowing that he must get a 
 machine made for forty dollars, or not get 
 it at all. The machine was completed the 
 night of the eleventh day from the day it 
 was commenced. About nine o'clock that 
 evening the parts of the machine were 
 finally put together, and a trial commenced 
 with it. The first attempt to sew was 
 unsuccessful, and the workmen, who were 
 tired out with almost unremitting work, 
 left him one by one, intimating that the 
 thing was a failure. Singer continued, 
 however, trying the machine, with Zieber 
 to hold the lamp for him ; but, in the ner- 
 vous condition to which he had become 
 reduced by incessant toil and anxiety, was 
 unsuccessful in getting the machine to 
 sew tight stitches. About midnight, 
 Singer started for the hotel where he then 
 boarded, accompanied by Zieber. Upon 
 the way, they sat down on a pile of boards, 
 and Zieber asked Singer if he had noticed 
 that the loose loops of thread en the upper 
 side of the cloth came from the needle. 
 It then flashed upon Slnge)''s mind that 
 he had forgotten to adjust the tension upon 
 the needle thread ! They both started for 
 the shop again. Singer adjusted the ten- 
 sion, tried the machine, and sewed five 
 stitches perfectly, when the thread broke. 
 The perfection of those stitches, however, 
 satisfied him that the machine was a 
 success, and he therefore stopped work, 
 went to the hotel, and had a sound sleep. 
 By three o'clock the next day, he had the 
 machine finished, and started with it to 
 
 New York, taking immediate steps to 
 secure a patent. It brought li'uii, in a few 
 1/ears, princeltj wealth. Tlic peculiarity 
 of this machine is the chain stitch or 
 single thread device, but with the emi)]oy- 
 ment of an eye-pointed needle, and other 
 appliances, so as to make it admirably 
 adapted for the general purposes of sewing. 
 On a similar principle are the Ladd and 
 Webster, and Finkle and Lyon, machines. 
 
 Other improvements or modifications of 
 the machine have been patented by INIcssrs. 
 Grover & Baker, Blodgett, Lerow, AVilson, 
 Morey, Johnson, Cliapin, Gibbs, Leavitt, 
 Watson, Clark, Weed, Arnold, McKay, 
 Langdon, and others, but whicli can only 
 be alluded to here. The principle of the 
 double- thread self- regulating machine 
 brought forward by Mr Martin, stopping 
 whenever the thread breaks or a loop is 
 missed, is claimed by several parties. A 
 number of the machines patented after 
 Howe's, use needles of a different kind from 
 his, but produce the same stitch ; most of 
 these instruments are equally correct in 
 respect to mechanical principles, but differ 
 widely in certain particulars, one being 
 vertical and the other horizontal, one car- 
 rying its own cloth and another requiring 
 that it should be carried by handj with 
 other differences. 
 
 But one of the most ingenious and orig- 
 inal devices in this line remains to be 
 mentioned, namely, a combination of the 
 sewing-machine and the melodeon, by 
 Wheeler and Wilson, and by them exhib- 
 ited, on its completion, to an admiring 
 public. The apparatus had the appear- 
 ance, externally, of a small parlor side- 
 board or other similar piece of furniture. 
 On lifting the front, there was seen a 
 handsome set of piano keys. On closing 
 it, and turning back a hoop on the top, 
 there opened to the view a complete 
 sewing-machine, conveniently arranged. 
 Concealed below, within side doors, were 
 two pedals, one for the music, the other 
 for the sewing-machine. Thus, by the 
 use of one of these ingenious contrivances, 
 when the lady operating the machine 
 became tired of playing at sewing, she 
 
470 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 could change her foot to the other pedal, 
 open the melodeon part, and discourse 
 
 music 
 
 The 'rotating hook' 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 Howie's patent — namely : 
 
 At that time, tlie amount of the boot and 
 shoe l)usiness 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 thai; it v/ould 
 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 factory 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 year 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 
 ])aid for sewing labor. But the great 
 manufactures of this house did not consti- 
 tute, at most, but one-hundredth part of 
 the machine-made clothing produced in 
 that city ; which fact, putting the proi)or- 
 tion at one-hundredth part, made the busi- 
 ness of manufacturing machine clothing in 
 the city of New York one hundred million 
 dollars i")or annum ; and thus, at the rate 
 ])aid by that house for sewing, it brought 
 the cost of sewing in that branch of tlie 
 business in that city, — even with the 
 assistance of the sewing-machines, — uj) to 
 twenty million dollars. Applying the 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 471 
 
 same ratio to the estimated amount of this 
 branch of business in the United States, 
 the total would reacli tlu^ sum of seventy- 
 tive million dollars. All this, be it remem- 
 
 bered, was in the comparative infancy of 
 the machine. Its pecuniary importance, 
 as a labor af:fent, is now estimated to reach 
 $500,000,000 annually. 
 
 V 
 
LIY. 
 SPIRITUAL KNOCKINGS AND TABLE-TIPPINGS .— 1847. 
 
 Familiar Intercourse Claimed to be Opened between Human and Disembodied Beings — Alleged 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 H^desville, N. Y — Time, Manner, 
 Circumstances. — A Murdered Man's Spirit — How the Mystery was Solved. — Happings, the Spirit 
 Language. — Its Interpretation Discovered. — Two Young Girls the " Mediums." — Their Harassed 
 Experience — Public Efforts to Sift the Matter. — No Clue to any Deception — The Family go to 
 Rochester. — Kiiockings Accompany Them. — New Forms of " Manitestations." — Many Mediums 
 Spring Up — Things Strange and Startling — Universal Wonder Excited. — Theories of Explanation. 
 — Investigations and Reports — Views of Agassiz, Ilerschel, Etc. — Press and Pulpit Discussions. — 
 Dilferent Opinions as to the Tendency of the Phenomena — Thirty Years' History. 
 
 "1 cannot dispose of another man's facts, nor allow him to dispose of mine."— Emersoit. 
 
 OCHESTER, K Y., one of the most 
 beautiful and tliriving of Ameri- 
 can inland cities, has long Lome 
 the celebrity which attaches to 
 what are now known, the world 
 over, as " spiritual manifesta- 
 tions," — hnockings, rap^^ings, ta- 
 ble-movings, sjjirit communica- 
 
 HOUSE IN WHICn SPIRITUAL KAPPINGS ORIGINATED. tloUS aud tllC lilvC. But ill 
 
 reality, to the secluded and unambitious village of Hydesville, in the town of 
 Arcadia, Wayne county, K Y., belongs the pre-eminent distinction of being the place 
 where originated, in a manner most casual, and seemingly insignificant for the time, 
 in respect to duration or results, this most mysterious, wonderful, and wide-spread 
 physico-psychological phenomenon since the world began. It was from Hydesville 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 point of all, in the history of this 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, savants, popes, philosophers, divines, 
 councils and synods, — is the humble house in Hydesville, occupied, in 1847, by Mr. 
 Michael Weekman, who, at different times that year, heard rappings upon his door, 
 
GREAT AND IMEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 473 
 
 but on every occasion failed to discover 
 any person present, or any producing 
 source or cause, notwitlistanding tlie 
 most vigilant watch was kept up and the 
 niitst industrious search instituted, by tlie 
 family and neighbors. Under these 
 stramxe 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 shuftiing 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 tliat one of them, some ten or 
 eleven years of age, thought she would 
 just try the experiment, sportively, ot re- 
 sponding to the raps by 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 agency. 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 tlie 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. 
 Tlien, 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 spirit, make tiro 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 could 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 discovei-y of the agent, further than 
 its own persistent declaration that it was 
 a spirit. About three weeks after these 
 occui-rences, David, a son of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Fox, went alone into the cellar where 
 the raps were then being heard, and said, 
 " Jf y^^f- <^''^ ^^^^ spirit of a hiwian heivg, 
 who once lived on the earth, can you rap 
 tlie letters that will spell your name? 
 and if so, rap noio 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 famil}', and 
 which they Avere afterward unable to 
 trace. The statement was in like manner 
 obtained from the invisible intelligence, 
 that he was the spirit of a peddler who had 
 
474 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 Rochester, the manifesta- 
 tions still accompanied them ; tlie family 
 took up their abode with a married sis- 
 ter, JMrs. Fish, who subsequently became 
 celebrated as a medium, through whom 
 the manifestations were exhibited. 
 
 The original method of communication 
 — the spirit langliage — it would appear, 
 consisted in conveying an afiSrmative 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 by the 
 living voice, or else in a printed form laid 
 upon a table, and the finger or a pencil 
 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 
 accurao}' or intelligence displayed in 
 which, dc'[)eiided, 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 years 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 Rosma, 
 his victim. 
 
 Such revelations as these, which, as 
 soon as received by 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 uj)on such a trans- 
 action. 
 
 At length, on the fourteenth of 
 November, 1849, in accordance, as 
 was said, with directions from ' the 
 si^irits,' a public lecture on the 
 origin and character of the mani- 
 festations was given in Corinthian 
 Hall, Rochester, 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 re2)ort 
 at an adjourned meeting the next even- 
 
 ing. 
 
 Intense interest was felt in regard to 
 the result of this committee's j^roceedings, 
 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 
 facilit}' 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 
 ra[)S were produced, or what was their 
 cause or origin, there being no visible 
 agency whatever to v/hicli, by any process 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 475 
 
 of ordinary reasoning, tlie phenomena 
 could be attributed. 
 
 Other committees of gentlemen arrived 
 at the same conclusion ; whereupon a com- 
 mittee of ladies was appointed, who took 
 the 3'oung lady mediums into a private 
 room of a hotel to which they were 
 strangers, and tliere 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 may be some one en rapport 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- 
 2)ings 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 theory presented with such philo 
 sophical ability by 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 
 unconsciously, by the minds in the circles, 
 and not by disembodied spirits out of the 
 same. 
 
 As indicating most clearly, according to 
 this theory, the presence and 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 1850, 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. 
 
476 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 perhaps, by the whole body of learned 
 men in the country. Professor Faraday, 
 of England, claimed to demonstrate that it 
 is by pliysical jjower, 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 resjDect to these phenomena is held in 
 higlier 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 by spirits, are terrestrial magnet- 
 ism and electricity, maj' be cited as rep- 
 resenting the views of a large portion, 
 probably, of the spiritualists in this 
 country. 
 
 The variety of phenomena known by the 
 general term of ' spiritual manifestations,' 
 is very numerous. Some of the principal, 
 as enumerated by Mr. Ballou under five 
 several distinctions, and which is perhaj^s 
 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 tlie 
 floor, placing them in new positions, (all 
 this sometimes in spite of atldetic 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, througli mid- 
 air; opening and shutting doors; thrum- 
 
 ming musical instruments ; undoing well- 
 clasped pocket-books, taking out their 
 contents, and then, by request, replacing 
 them again ; writing witli 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 cataleps}', trance, clair- 
 voyance, and various involuntary muscu- 
 lar, nervous, and mental activit}^ in medi- 
 ums, independent of any will or conscious 
 psychological influence b}" men in the flesh, 
 and then through such mediums, speak- 
 ing, writing, preaching, lecturing, philoso- 
 phizing, prophes^'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 re[)roofs, admonitions, 
 and counsels, expositions of si)iritual, theo- 
 logical, religious, moral, and philosophical 
 truths appertaining to the present and 
 future states, and important to liuman wel- 
 fare in every sphere of existence, some- 
 times comj)rised in a single sentence, and 
 sometimes in an amjile book. 
 
 It is taught by writers on s[)iritualism, 
 that it is a grand 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 by those opposed to the movement, 
 who charge it as aiming, or tending, to do 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 477 
 
 away with tlio Biltlo, to ovevtlirow Chris- 
 tianit}', and destroy tlie Cliurcli and its 
 institutions, — indeed, to break up the 
 whole framo-work of society as at })resent 
 constituted. The discussion lias engaged, 
 in the press and pulpit, and on either side, 
 the profoundest adepts in theology, science, 
 and philosoi)hy ; and, though none dispute 
 that fraud and imposture have jdayed 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. DAVIS. 
 
 JUDGE EDMONDS. 
 
 part, in multitudes of instances, in con- 
 nection with the matter, it is admitted 
 that the plienomena, 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 Ballou, 
 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 oi 
 and beyond 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 
 
478 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 con- 
 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. 
 
LY. 
 
 VOYAGE OF THE UNITED STATES SHIP JAMESTOWN, 
 WITH A CARGO OF FOOD FOR THE STARVING IN 
 
 IRELAND.— 1847. 
 
 Famine, Pestilence, Woe and Death Sweep Frightfully Over That Land. — Appeal to the Sympathy of 
 Nations. — The Tale of Horror Borne Across the Atlantic. — Spontaneous Generosity of America. — A 
 Ship-ofWar Converted Into a Ship of Peace, and Laden with Free Gifts for the Siifferinfi;. — Total 
 f'ailure of the Potato Crop. — A Universal Scourge. — Disease Added to Destitution. — Ghastly t^cencs 
 on every Side. — Multitudes Perish in tlie Streets. — Parliament Grants $50,000,000. — The Message of 
 Humanity. — America's Readj' Bounties. — Use of the Jamestown Granted. — Food Substituted for 
 Guns. — Interesting Bill of Lading. — Departure from Boston. — Enthusiastically Cheered — Only Fif- 
 teen Days' Passage. — Going up the Harbor of Cork. — Throngs of Famished Spectators. — Tumultu- 
 ous Greetings on Arrival. — Public Welcomes and Honors. — A Tour of Inspection. — Indescribable 
 Horrors. — Distribution of the Cargo. — The Mission a Great Success. 
 
 " And thou, raiKhty ehip, liuiU by raan to destroj. 
 Thou, the first of thy race, bear'st an errand of joy.' 
 
 , „,,,, WING to the failure of the potato crop in Ireland, in the year 1846, a great 
 '7tdn famine fell upon that unfortunate land, and, during tliat and the succeeding 
 year, thousands perished with hunger. Notwithstanding the successive 
 grants of relief made by parliament, amounting in the aggregate to fifty 
 millions of dollars, together with the munificence of the Avealthy, desti- 
 tution, famine, and disease pervaded almost the entire population. Such, 
 ideed, was the fearful mortality in some of the townS; that one-third of 
 le inhabitants fell victims, their corpses being found, in frequent 
 instances, lying in the streets, uncoffined and unknown. 
 As illustrating the frightful character and circumstances 
 distinguishing this scourge, one of the official visitors to 
 these scenes of woe states that on entering one of the famiiie 
 hovels in Kennare, he found five or six of the 
 inmates lying in fever, huddled together on the 
 damp and cold ground, with scarce a wisj) of straw 
 under them ; in another cabin, four or five unfor- 
 
 tunate beings, just risen from fever, crouched over 
 a small pot of sea-weed boiling on the fire, that one 
 of them had crawled to the shore to collect fw 
 their dinner. An equally ghastly case was that of 
 a poor fellow, whose mother lay beside him dead 
 two days; he was burning with rage to think she 
 should have come to such an end, as to die of starv- 
 ation. But a more distressing object still, was 
 SCENE OF MISERY DURING THE FAMINE. that of a sick uiother, bcsidc whom lay a child 
 
480 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 dead, for tlie twenty-four hours previous ; 
 two otliers lay close by, just expiring, and, 
 to add to the horrors of the sight, a fam- 
 ished cat got upon the bed, and was only 
 prevented by timely intervention from 
 gnawing the corpse of the deceased infant. 
 Perhaps the spread and extent of this 
 calamity can be best comprehended by the 
 manner in which it affected the Cork dis- 
 trict. In the year 1840, under the law for 
 the relief of the poor, a work-house was 
 provided in Cork, sufficient to meet the 
 wants of some two thousand persons, and, 
 until the year 1845, such accommodation 
 was abundant. In 1846, however, things 
 began to alter, when the destruction of the 
 potato crop began to be experienced. 
 Soon, the work-house filled to overflowing. 
 Additional buildings were erected — they 
 too were filled. Accommodation was then 
 provided for twelve, and subsequently for 
 eighteen hundred people, in the neighbor- 
 hood of the work-house. Every inch of 
 space was occupied, so soon as it was avail- 
 able ; and yet the aj^plicants for admission 
 crowded pantingly at the doors. They 
 were not repelled until more than five 
 thousand and three hundred human beings 
 were crowded into a space originally meant 
 to receive two thousand. As a necessary 
 consequence, a pestilence was genei-ated, 
 which destroyed life to an extent unheard 
 of — and still the admissions went on! 
 The vacancies created by death or other- 
 wise, were immediately filled, by eager 
 applicants, who, in their turn, and speed- 
 il}', fell beneath the stroke of death. And 
 this pestilence, though of course raging 
 fiercest within the work -house, was not 
 confined to its precincts and beneficiaries; 
 the guardians, chaplains, and physicians, 
 all shared in the visitation of the destroyer, 
 and the attendant frightful mortality. It 
 was a matter of inevitable necessity-, to 
 crowd the fever patients together so 
 thickly, that they were forced to lie three 
 and four in one bed ; and frequently it was 
 necessary to administer the last consola- 
 tions to the dying, in tlic very bed in 
 which lay a corpse. When it was thus in a 
 public institution supported and regulated 
 
 by law, imagination can readily picture the 
 scenes in tbose dreary cabins of the j^oor 
 that cover the land. 
 
 But the picturings of the imagination 
 merely, may well be spared, in A'iew of tlie 
 gaunt array of awful facts which make up 
 this tragedy of human woe. Having placed 
 the miseries of Cork in the foreground of 
 this brief narrative, some reference is like- 
 wise due to the condition of those districts 
 which, being mountainous and largely 
 populated, Avere exposed to a peculiar 
 intensity of privation, and of consequent 
 suffering. Among these districts — and it 
 furnishes simply a type of all the others 
 which might be cited, did space permit. — 
 was that of Kilworth, which comprises 
 that very extensive range of upland, 
 known as the Kilworth mountains, and 
 the small extent of low land attached to it. 
 Out of a total population of nine thousand 
 and eight hundred souls, there were at one 
 time over seven thousand in the greatest 
 state of misery and distress, and, of these, 
 five thousand had not, unless given them, 
 a single meal with which to satisfy their 
 hunger. This arose, as in the other dis- 
 tricts, from the total failure of the potato, 
 upon Avhich the people solely relied, to- 
 gether with the additional misfortune of an 
 unj^roductive oat crop. Some were found 
 dead in the fields, others dropped down 
 dead by the side of the roads, and multi- 
 tudes expired in their miserable cabins 
 from cold, hunger, and nakedness. Only 
 now and then was any coroner called, the 
 deaths being too numerous to admit of 
 formal investigation into each. At one of 
 the inquests, however, it appeared that a 
 poor man named James Carth}', in the 
 last stage of weakness and exhaustion, 
 having been given a small quantity of 
 meal took it home, Avhere his unfortunate 
 wife Avas confined to her bed of straw by 
 want and fever. Having made a fire, he 
 attempted to cook some 'stir-about,' but 
 his strength failed him; he grew giddy, 
 and fell with his face into the fire. Tlie 
 poor wife perceiving that he could not 
 extricate liimself, in vain attempted to 
 leave her bed to assist him. She had not 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 481 
 
 the strength to move. She heard the 
 crackling of tlie fire, and she saw her hus- 
 band writhe and expire. The effect upon 
 her mind and body was too mucli for her 
 to bear, and, in just an hour afterwards, 
 she also was a corpse. Such instances as 
 this, of terrible individual suffering, were 
 not at all peculiar or rare. Every day 
 furnished its sad tales, and the living 
 heard, and endeavored to drive from their 
 minds, as soon as they could, the horrify- 
 ing particulars that were related. 
 
 And now it was, that, in the midst of 
 her four-fold horrors of destitution, pesti- 
 lence, famine, and death, the cry of poor 
 Ireland, appealing to the charity of nations 
 and of individuals, winged itself across the 
 Atlantic, and enlisted the generous sympa- 
 thies of fair Columbia. On the twenty- 
 second of February, 1847, certain Boston 
 merchants petitioned congress to lend one 
 of the national ships-of-war, for the pur- 
 pose of carrying to Ireland a cargo of pro- 
 visions ; and on the third day of March, 
 the last stormy day of the session, when 
 the attention of every mind in congress 
 Avas taken up in the discussion of momen- 
 tous qviestions pertaining to finance and 
 war, the peojile of the United States, be it 
 said to their honor, voted through their 
 representatives, the loan of the frigate 
 Macedonian to Captain George C. DeKay, 
 of New Jersey, and the loan of the sloop- 
 of-war Jamestown to Captain Robert Ben- 
 nett Forbes ; and by a joint resolution of 
 both houses of congress, the president and 
 the secretary of the navy were authorized 
 to send these vessels at the expense of the 
 United States, or to put them into the 
 hands of the gentlemen named, for the 
 purpose indicated. The secretary of the 
 navy, Hon. John Y. Mason, in view of the 
 demand for all the resources of the cfov- 
 ernment to carry on operations against 
 Mexico, chose the latter alternative. 
 Much credit was due to the efforts of Hon. 
 Robert C. Winthrop, in congress, for this 
 favorable result. 
 
 In view of the splendid success which. 
 
 from first to last, attended this grand 
 
 national charity, in connection especially 
 31 
 
 with the voyage of the Jamestown under 
 the gallant and honored Forbes, this sketch 
 will detail the circumstances attending 
 the career of that noble pioneer ship and 
 her distinguished commander, deviating as 
 little as possible from the official narrative- 
 Five days after the passage of the resolu- 
 tion of congress, the secretary of the navy 
 ordered Commodore Parker, of the Charles- 
 town navy yard, to prepare the Jamestown 
 by the removal of her armament, and 
 deliver her to Captain Forbes. This order 
 came to hand on the eleventh of March, 
 and on the seventeenth, being St. Patrick's 
 day, the ''Laborers' Aid Society," of Bos- 
 ton, composed principally, if not entirely, 
 of poor Irishmen, j^ut their hands and 
 minds to the holy work, and in the course 
 of that day, one-seventh part of the cargo 
 was stowed away ; and b}'^ the twenty- 
 seventh, notwithstanding the interruption 
 by bad weather, the ship was full, drawing 
 nearly twenty feet, and having, with her 
 stores, about eight thousand barrels bulk, 
 of provisions, grain, meal, etc., on board, — 
 the voluntary, free and hearty contribu- 
 tions, from all classes and sects, to the 
 suffering people of Ireland, — all intrusted 
 to the care of one of the truest men and 
 most skillful nautical commanders in all 
 America. 
 
 The cargo thus in readiness, was in- 
 voiced as "provisions, breadstuffs, and 
 clothing, shipjjed by the Boston relief 
 committee, on board the United States 
 Sldp of Peace, Jamestown, R. B. Forbes 
 commander, and to him consigned." As 
 such a bill of lading, purelj' in the inter- 
 ests of international charity, was probably 
 never before identified Avith the history of 
 a government naval vessel, the record of 
 its contents may well have a place in these 
 pages, to gratify the laudable curiosity of 
 the humane. But even this constitutes 
 but a portion — the first shipment only — of 
 the gifts of the citizens of New England 
 and the United States, namely : four hun- 
 dred barrels jiork ; one hundred tierces 
 hams ; six hundred and fifty-five barrels 
 corn meal ; two thousand five hundred and 
 one bags ditto, of one-half barrel each ; 
 
482 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 four hundred and seventy-five bags ditto, 
 of sixty pounds each ; two hundred and 
 sixty bags ditto, of one-quarter barrel eacli ; 
 one thousand four hundred and fifty-two 
 bags ditto, of one-eighth barrel each ; one 
 thousand four hundred and ninety-six 
 bags northern corn, one thousand three 
 hundred and seventy-five barrels of bread, 
 three hundred and fifty-three barrels beans, 
 ■eighty-four barrels peas, eight hundred 
 emptj^ bags. The items thus enumerated 
 pertain to the Boston contributions sent 
 by the Jamestown ; the remaining schedule 
 of articles embraces gifts from other towns 
 in New England, namely : five hundred 
 
 '§^f£9^;;'V<a:> 
 
 CORN FOK THE LAND OF WANT AND WOK. 
 
 and thirty-three barrels of corn, one-half 
 barrel of pork, eighteen barrels corn meal, 
 one-half barrel oatmeal, ten barrels oat- 
 meal, eighty-four barrels potatoes, one bag 
 ditto, five hundred and forty-seven bags 
 corn, one barrel flour, one barrel rye, ten 
 bags rye, one box rye, one barrel oats, one 
 box oats, three bags wheat, one tierce 
 dried apples, three tierces beans, one bag 
 beans, six boxes fish ; two hundred bags 
 meal, one-eighth barrel each ; one-half 
 barrel meal, sixteen barrels clothing, one- 
 half-barrel ditto, nine boxes ditto, two 
 bundles ditto; fifty barrels flour, one-half 
 barrel ditto, one hundred ditto rice, fifty 
 
 barrels corn meal, two barrels bread, sixty 
 barrels beans, one-half barrel ditto, four 
 barrels peas, four boxes clothing. 
 
 This was the bill of lading which cov- 
 ered the freight of the Jamestown, — that 
 ark of charity, — commissioned, by a nation 
 possessed at the time of but few ships of 
 war, and at that very moment engaged in 
 a contest requiring all her disposable 
 naval force, to proceed to the city of Cork. 
 The last time the war-flag of America 
 floated in the British seas was in 1812. 
 England and the United States were then 
 in hostile collision. But in every encoun- 
 ter of the latter power, in the guardianship 
 of her rights and the defense of her honor, 
 she showed that irrepressible character 
 which belongs to an energetic nation once 
 fairly roused; and, notwithstanding all 
 the unfavorable circumstances of a hurried 
 organization, defective vessels, wretched 
 equipment, and want of arsenals, docks, 
 system, combination, trained ofiicers, and 
 naval discipline, England had never be- 
 fore met with an enemy so destructive to 
 her trade as America proved. During the 
 first two years of privateering that fol- 
 lowed the declaration of war, many hun- 
 dred sail of British merchantmen were 
 captured. But now, all this is changed 
 and reversed. An American war vessel is 
 sent to cruise up the Irish channel, but it 
 is on a cruise of mercy; though a "vessel 
 of wrath," fitted for the work of destruc- 
 tion, she has been disarmed, and converted 
 into a ministering messenger of succor to 
 the famished. She bears no secret and 
 spying orders, but her mission is open as 
 day. Her caliber can be estimated from 
 the weight she bears of corn — not can- 
 non ; her discharges are not to be of " iron 
 rain," but to descend in peaceful manna. 
 In a word, she goes laden with food to 
 those who are ready to perish ; and, having 
 consummated her great work, and having 
 achieved a nobler triumph than ever yet 
 crowned the most successful ship of prey 
 and blood, she will return with no red- 
 dyed pennon flaunting from her mast-head, 
 but, rather, with the grateful esteem and 
 affectionate attachment of one of the most 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 483 
 
 varm-hearted people on the face of the 
 globe, and with the gracious smile and 
 blessing of lieuven. 
 
 On the twenty-seventh of March, Cap- 
 tain Forbes gave a receipt for the ship 
 and her apparel, etc., the officers of the 
 navy yard having rigged her while the 
 cargo was being received. The outfit was 
 Tery complete, and on Sunday, March 
 twenty-eighth, at half-past eight o'clock in 
 the morning, the ship cast off, amid the 
 hearty cheers and fervent prayers of the 
 assembled crowd, and made sail on her 
 course. At three o'clock, the noble ship 
 had passed the Highlands of Cape Cod, 
 and w^as fairly launched on the broad 
 Atlantic, on a voj'age full of hope and 
 jjleasure. Forbes, the large-hearted, brave 
 and skillful commander — whose time and 
 services for the expedition were a free-will 
 offering to the cause of humanity, — said 
 that it was to him a day full of mingled 
 amotions of satisfaction, unalloyed by any 
 unhappy feeling, save that momentary and 
 easily forgiven weakness that comes over 
 a man when parting from his family ! 
 Grand, nohle-liearted Forbes! 
 
 Thus auspiciously under way, the ship 
 of peace, though three feet or more deeper 
 than her usual man-of-war trim, sailed and 
 ■worked admirabl}', and altlior^^h her crew 
 proved very light and not altogether effi- 
 cient, she sped on successfully, crossed the 
 Banks in forty-three and one-half degrees, 
 against the will of her navigators, wdth 
 south, south-east, and southerly winds, 
 and a dense fog, the thermometer varying 
 several degrees in the air and water, indi- 
 cating the proximity of ice, — and after a 
 succession of rainy, dirty weather, and 
 variable winds, the good bark cast anchor 
 in Cork, outer harbor, on the twelfth of 
 April, exactli/ fifteen days and three hours 
 from the navy yard at Charlestown, with- 
 out having lost a rope yarn. 
 
 The Jamestown was xevy soon visited 
 by Lieutenant Commanding Protheroe, of 
 her majesty's flag-ship, the Ci'ocodile, 
 under Rear Admiral Sir Hugh Pigot, who 
 came to say that everj^thing would be 
 done, within the admiral's power, to expe- 
 
 dite the delivery of the cargo, and for the 
 dispatch of the ship on her return to the 
 United States. Intimation was accord- 
 ingly given, that the timely aid of a 
 steamer would be very acceptable, to take 
 the ship to the government warehouses at 
 Haulbowline. Unfortunately, no steamer, 
 belonging to the public service, was just 
 then at Cork or Cove, and it was therefore 
 necessary to wait patiently until Tuesday 
 afternoon, when the steam sloop Geyser 
 was expected to arrive ; but just after the 
 Jamestown had weighed anchors, in prep- 
 aration, and no steamer coming, the 
 Sabrina, Captain Parker, came along, she 
 being a packet running, and then bound, to 
 Bristol. Captain Parker shaved the ship's 
 stern so close as to take off her spanker- 
 boom, and hailing, asked the commander 
 if he wished to be towed up ; a hearty 
 affirmative was the response. The Sabrina 
 forthwith towed her honored consort up to 
 the government stores at Haulbowline, 
 opposite the town of Cove, and seven or 
 eight miles below the city of Cork, forming 
 a truly beautiful harbor. 
 
 Meanwhile, the tidings of the approach 
 of the good ship, with her rich and weighty 
 freight of food for the perishing, was spread 
 far and wide, and many were they who 
 watched anxiously from the shore, the 
 form of that noble craft as she passed 
 along, and which was now their only hope. 
 Even before the anchor had fairlj' bitten 
 the soil, a deputation of the citizens of 
 Cove, consisting of all parties in politics 
 and all creeds of religion, waited on Cap- 
 tain Forbes, with an address of welcome, 
 to which he promptly and handsomely 
 responded. The Cove Temperance Band 
 came and remained on board all daj-, dis- 
 coursing sweet music, Yankee Doodle and 
 Lucy Long being performed with especial 
 frequency and vim. A plenty of men 
 came from the Crocodile to assist in 
 weighing the shijj's anchors, and at night 
 the town of Cove was illuminated. As the 
 Jamestown passed up the harbor in tow of 
 the packet, she received the cheers of thou- 
 sands who lined the hills and quay, and 
 innumerable ladies waved their handker- 
 
484 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 chiefs in token of delight. Wlien parting 
 with Captain Parker and his very service- 
 able packet, the crew and passengers of the 
 latter joined in a rousing salute to the 
 American visitors, which was answered 
 heartily and lustily from the Jamestown 
 as well as from the assembled throng. 
 
 On Wednesday, the fourteenth, the 
 work of discharging the cargo into the 
 government warehouses commenced, with- 
 out any form of entry or detention other- 
 wise. Captain Forbes called on the United 
 States consul, noted his protest, and tlien 
 went to Cork in company with that good 
 and great man, Theobald Mathew, and 
 his brother ; was by him introduced to the 
 collector, and to other gentlemen of note, 
 and had a very warm reception from all. 
 On Thursday, the fifteenth of April, the 
 citizens of Cove invited Captain Forbes to 
 a banquet. The brilliant company assem- 
 bled at six o'clock, and, after the usual 
 regular toasts, — 'The Queen,' and 'Prince 
 Albert and the Royal Family,' — the chair- 
 man, Hon. Mr. Power, introduced the 
 health of the guest, with some flattering 
 encomiums on the generosity of the people 
 of New England ; these courtesies were 
 acknowledged by Captain Forbes, in a 
 speech which elicited unbounded applause. 
 Great harmony and enthusiasm prevailed, 
 
 all classes in politics and religion in the 
 town uniting to do honor to the occasion 
 and the guest, for the name of Forbes had 
 everywhere become a household word of 
 honor and admiration, such as any prince 
 of the kingdom might envy. 
 
 An invitation having been extended to 
 Captain Forbes to meet the Temperance 
 Institute at Cork, on the nineteenth, — the 
 institute of which Father Mathew was 
 both parent and president, — Captain 
 Forbes accepted the same. The occasion 
 was one specially made for an expression 
 of gratitude to the people of America. In 
 consequence of the distress out of doors, 
 the regular soirees had been omitted ; but 
 at this time the hall was beautifully orna- 
 mented with the flags of England, Ire- 
 land, and the United States, and an 
 accomplished choir discoursed Yankee 
 Doodle, Lucy Long, Jim Crow, Hail 
 Columbia, and sundry national Irish mel- 
 odies. The chairman and others presented 
 eloquent addresses, the ladies clapped 
 their gentle hands, and their kerchiefs 
 waved welcome and gratitude to America. 
 Captain Forbes made a brief reply, in 
 which he told the ladies, that, having vis- 
 ited Blarney Castle and kissed the stone, 
 he had a great deal to say, but found his 
 feelings too much excited to admit of his 
 saying much. Father Mathew, after having 
 had his health proposed, made a short and 
 feeling address, appropriately conveying 
 to the people of America, the expressions 
 of deep and heartfelt thankfulness, "more 
 for the sentiment of remembrance than 
 for the intrinsic value of the gifts." The 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 485 
 
 ladies having been presented to Captain 
 Forbes, that galhmt sailor was ever after- 
 wards ready to vouch for the fact, that the 
 ladies of Cork do shake liands like men ; — 
 no formal touching of the ends of the fin- 
 gers, chilling the heart, but a regular 
 grip of feeling. It was at this assembly 
 also, that the commander of the James- 
 town was presented by some of the city 
 artists with a finely executed likeness of 
 that ship, representing her as she ap- 
 peared just after the Sabrina had cast off 
 the tow ropes, and a few moments before 
 the anchor was drojiped at the government 
 dock-yard. From the ladies, too, Captain 
 Forbes was the recipient of numerous 
 poetical effusions laudatory of the James- 
 town's humane mission, and they presented 
 bim with some choice specimens of their 
 handywork, to carry as souvenirs to his 
 home. On AVednesday, the twenty-first 
 of April, — twenty-four days after leaving 
 Boston, — the cargo was out and the ship 
 ready for sea. On that day, Captain 
 Forbes was " at home " to the ladies and 
 gentlemen of Cork and Cove, by special 
 invitation, from twelve to three. The 
 company assembled, in large numbers, and 
 an. entertainment, sui generis, was pro- 
 vided by the host. Knowing that it 
 'would be impossible for him to give such 
 a multitude a feast, and, indeed, not de- 
 siring to do so in a time of famine. Cap- 
 tain Forbes nevertheless determined to 
 give them something appropriate, and 
 accordingly displayed on the table a barrel 
 of best American bread, in the cask, flanked 
 on each side by a huge piece of Fresh 
 Pond ice, — which latter the host declared 
 was manufactured expressly for the occa- 
 sion on the twenty-fifth of March. These 
 principal ingredients were helped out with 
 a plenty of ice water, iced lemonade, with 
 a little sprinkling of champagne and 
 bread (baked on board but rivaling the 
 b)est), to say nothing of a box of Boston 
 gingerbread, which the ladies partook of 
 sparingly, but carried away with them in 
 dainty bits, to show at home what could 
 be done in Yankee land. The temperance 
 band played some of their choicest airs, 
 
 and, previous to breaking np, the ladies, 
 with their red-coated and blue-coated part- 
 ners, sported the light fantastic toe, on the 
 spotless decks of the noble ship. 
 
 Among the deputations from the dif- 
 ferent municipalities received by Captain 
 Forbes, was a special one from the citizens 
 of Cork, who delivered to him a banner 
 for presentation to the city of Boston. 
 This was accompanied by an address 
 couched in the most appropriate language 
 of personal and public gratitude. Indeed, 
 the praises of free, happy, generous 
 America, were sounded by every tongue. 
 
 The arrangements made by Captain 
 Forbes for the distribution of the cargo 
 were with a committee of gentlemen of 
 the very highest character and represent- 
 ing all shades of politics and all creeds in 
 religion, thus guaranteeing that the seed 
 would be sown to good account both in the 
 hearts and stomachs of the poor Irish, as 
 well as in the remembrance of the better- 
 off classes. That the necessities of Ire- 
 land at this time were not at all exagger- 
 ated by the cry and wassail that went 
 forth from her bosom, into the ears of 
 the civilized world, Captain Forbes fully 
 affirms from his personal routine of ob- 
 servation. He states that, in company 
 with Father Mathew, he went, on a cer- 
 tain day, only a few steps out of one of 
 the principal streets of Cork, into a lane ; 
 it was more than the valley of the shadow 
 of death, — it was the valley of death and 
 pestilence itself. Enough was to be seen 
 in five minutes to appall the stoutest 
 heart — hovels crowded with the sick and 
 dying, without floors, Avithout furniture, 
 and with beds of dirty straw covered with 
 still more filthy shreds and patches of 
 humanity ; some called for water to Father 
 Mathew, and others for a dying blessing. 
 From this very small sample of the pre- 
 vailing destitution, the visitors proceeded 
 to a public soup kitchen, under a shed, 
 guarded by police officers ; here a large 
 boiler containing rice, meal, and so forth, 
 was at work, while hundreds of specters 
 stood without, begging for some of this 
 soup, which Captain Forbes did not hesi- 
 
486 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 tate afterwards to declare would be refused 
 by well-bred pigs in his own country I 
 
 With reference to the last observation, 
 however, it ma\' be remarked that it was 
 made with not the least disrespect to the 
 benevolent who provided the means and 
 who ordered the ingredients. Indeed, the 
 demand for immediate relief was so great, 
 that, if the starving could be kept alive, 
 it was all that could be expected. The 
 energies of the poor had become so 
 cramped and deadened by want and suf- 
 fering of every type, that they cared only 
 for sustenance, and they were unable to 
 earn it ; crowds flocked in from the coun- 
 try to the city, and the hospitals and jails 
 and poor-houses were full to overflowing, 
 the numbers that died daily simply mak- 
 ing room for those who were soon also to 
 die. Every corner of the streets was filled 
 with pale, care-worn creatures, the weak 
 leading and supporting the weaker, women 
 assailing the passer-by at every turn, with 
 famished babes, imploring alms — and woe 
 to the man who gave to them ! Captain 
 Forbes himself tried it ! He gave six- 
 pences, with which to the extent of a pound 
 sterling he had provided himself; occa- 
 sionally, as pursued with Father Mathew 
 in company, he cast a sixpence back to the 
 crowd, and like the traveler who was pur- 
 sued by hungry wolves, and who threw 
 out a little something to distract their 
 attention, the captain passed on at a 
 quicker pace until protection could be 
 found from the heart-rending appeals of 
 the poor creatures, by going into a store 
 and finally escaping by the back door; 
 they, however, finding the man who thus 
 had silver to give, unearthed, renewed the 
 pursuit, and lie finally took shelter on 
 board a steamer. 
 
 At half-past three, of the afternoon 
 of April twenty-second, the Jamestown 
 started from Cork, in tow of her majesty's 
 steamer Zephyr, on her return voyage, 
 
 which she accomplished by the fifteenth 
 of May, after an absence of seven weeks 
 and one hour from the navy yard, during- 
 which time there were resting upon her 
 the best wishes and prayers of millions, — 
 and it seemed as if heaven particularly 
 smiled upon the noble vessel, in her 
 speedy passage out and her safe return. 
 The mission must always be regarded as 
 one of the grandest events in the history 
 of nations, — one of the noblest charities 
 on record. In token of their gratitude 
 and esteem, the people of Cork and its 
 vicinity presented to Captain Forbes a 
 large and massy salver of solid silver, 
 measuring thirty inches in length by 
 twenty in breadth, a rich and most beauti- 
 ful piece of workmanship, valued at nearly 
 one thousand dollars, and inscribed as 
 follows : ' Presented to Robert Bennett 
 Forbes, Esq., of Boston, United States, 
 by the Inhabitants of the County and 
 City of Cork, Ireland, in acknowledgment 
 of his philanthropic mission to their 
 countrj^, and successful exertions for the 
 relief of their suffering fellow country- 
 men during the fearful famine of 1846-7, 
 Avhen, mainly through the instrumen- 
 tality of Captain Forbes, large supplies 
 of food, the voluntary contributions of 
 the inhabitants of the United States, 
 more particularly of New England, were 
 carried to Ireland in the United States 
 ships-of-war Jamestown and Macedonian 
 (the former granted to him personally by 
 the American Government, although en- 
 gaged in a Mexican war), the Reliance 
 and Tartar, and distributed amongst a 
 starving and grateful people.' Accom- 
 panying this magnificent j^iece of plate, 
 was a Memorial Address, inclosed in a 
 splendidly ornamental frame, representing 
 the Irish Harp, and surmounted by the 
 American Eagle, the Irish and American 
 Flags, and a figure of the Jamestown, all 
 ajjpropriately grouped. 
 
LVI. 
 
 GENERAL SCOTT IN THE HALLS OF THE MONTEZU- 
 MAS, AS THE CONQUEROR OF MEXICO.— 184T. 
 
 General Taylor's Unbroken Series of Victorious Battles, from Palo Alto to Buena Vista. — Flight of 
 Santa Anna in tlie 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. — Peace 
 on the Invaders' Own Terms. — Original Irritation between the Two Powers. — Disputed Points of 
 Boundary. — Mexico Refuses to Yield. — General Taylor Sent to the 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, Churubusco, 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 God, the valor of this army, after many glorious victories, haa hoisted the flag of our country in the Capital of Mei- 
 fco, and on the Palace of ita Oovernment."— General Scott to his Army, September 14th. 
 
 ^^f^€^^^=^ 
 
 ^^■^"^ 
 
 
 
 
 V 
 
 HIEFLY, if not solel}^, owing 
 to the annexation of Texas 
 to tlie United States, war broke ovit between 
 this country and Mexico, in 1846, under proc- 
 lamation by President Polk, in pursuance of formal declar- 
 ation of hostilities in May of that 3'ear, 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 i)ower, 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 '"^ 
 to the Pio Grande del Norte. Santa Anna, then at the head oi'-.Q^ 
 Mexican affairs, insisted on the vigorous assertion of Mexico's ^/>^p«"-j '':^»,*». 
 
 
488 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 officers 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 Uj)per 
 California. 
 
 The principal battles and other military 
 movements which rendered this conflict 
 memorable, were the siege of Fort Brown, 
 
 ^C U^c>--^/^ 
 
 the battles of Palo Alto and Resaca 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 being entered by the army 
 of the United States. The latter event, 
 and the battle of Buona 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 militar}^ history. 
 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 complied 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 
 equallj^ a matter of indifference — the 
 terms of adjustment must be ar- 
 ranged by gunpowder . 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 earlj^ hour the 
 next morning, the struggle deepening in in- 
 tensity as the day advanced, until the battle 
 raged with great fury along the entire line. 
 After various successes and reverses, the 
 fortunes of the day 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 
 ruse to gain time and re-collect his men ; 
 but the American general thought fit to 
 notice it, and General Wool was deputed 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 489 
 
 to meet the representative of Santa Anna, 
 and to say to liim that what was " wanted " 
 was peace. Before the interview could be 
 had, tlie Mexicans treacherously re-opened 
 their fires. The flag, however, had accom- 
 
 I 
 
 Ji' 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 ixpon 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 artillery, compel 
 his whole line to fall back, and soon to 
 assume a sort of subdued movement, indi- 
 cating anything but victory. 
 
 Again, the spirits of Taylor'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 dreadful 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 is 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, by 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 w^ere to whiten their 
 native hills. The loss w-as 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. 
 Throughout 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 baftled. 
 
 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 
 
490 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the colors of the regiment as he reached 
 them, appealed to the men to know 
 whether they had determined thus 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. 
 Put there were strong positions yet 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 cajjital — 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 impregnable 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. P. 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 yet won, but orders 
 were in due time given by General Scott 
 to march to the capital. Deafening cheers 
 and a quickstep) greet ed this order, on its 
 promulgation. Two strong positions of 
 the enemy .vere, however, yet to be over- 
 come, namely, that of Molino del Re^-, and 
 the strong castle of Cliapultepec, 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 necessar}^ to 
 burst open an entrance, and with the bay- 
 onet to meet the enemy hand to hand. 
 New and more terrible struggles were 
 
 cu 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 491 
 
 soon to take place. On the eleventh of 
 September, the cavalry were ordered to 
 make a movement on the sloping plains 
 above Chapultepec 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 aftei', 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 Avhere the 
 real attack was intended, for on the south 
 side the fire was slackened, and after a 
 
 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 musketry. 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 up 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- 
 gu-ished 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 
 
492 
 
 OUB FIRST CENTUKY.-1776-1876. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 493 
 
 inclosure of Chapultepec just in time to 
 join in 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 
 eneni}^, upon 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 
 
 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 up in 
 the middle of the night and retreat tvith 
 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 appearance 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 
 successfully 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. 
 
LVII. 
 
 EXPEDITION TO THE RIVER JORDAN AND THE DEAD 
 SEA, BY LIEUT. W. F. LYNCH.— 1847. 
 
 The Sacred River Successfully Circumnavigated and Surveyed. — Twenty Days and Nights Upon the 
 " Sea of Death." — It is E,xplored, 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 Land. — 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 mountain or in glen. 
 
 Nor tree, nor shrub, nor flower. 
 
 Nor aught of vegetative power, 
 
 The wearied eye may ken ; 
 
 But all its rocks at random thrown, — 
 
 Block waves, — 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 chax'ac- 
 ter concerning a spot so singular in its sacred and historic associations, 
 as well as mysterious in its jihysical peculiarities, fully justified the 
 zeal with which it was advocated and the high auspices under which 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 ; ])assed-mi(lshipnian, R. Aulick ; herbarist, 
 Francis E. Lynch ; master's mate, J. C. Thomas ; navigators, Messrs. 
 Overstock, William.'?, Homer, Read, Robinson, Lee, Lock- 
 •^ 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 495 
 
 also obtainod at Beirut, Avho acted in the 
 capacity of interpreter, and rendered other 
 important aid. 
 
 By direction of the government at 
 Washington, the store-ship Suj^ply 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 Sj^ria, 
 for the purpose of exploring the Dead Sea, 
 and of tracing the Jordan to its source. 
 The reception by the young 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 camehs. 
 On being harnessed, three of the huge 
 animals to each truck, thej^ marched ofi 
 with the trucks, the boats U2)on 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. Thej^ 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 of 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 
 
496 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 Lynch 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 higlier 
 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 L3-nch 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 Avas but little variet}'- in the scenery 
 of the river; the streams sometimes 
 washed the bases of the sand}' hills, at 
 other times meandered between low banks, 
 generally fringed with trees and fragrant 
 with blossoms. Some points presented 
 views exceedingl}'' 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 497 
 
 winter and early spring ; -wliile tlie loft 
 and eastern bank is low and fringed with 
 tamarisk and willow, and oceasionally a 
 thicket of lofty cane, and tangled masses 
 of shrubs and creeping plants, gave it the 
 appearance of a jungle. 
 
 No loss 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 
 extremity, Avhich 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 tbe 
 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 ])oint. 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 spra}^, 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. Finally, 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 
 
 VALLEV OF THE JuUDAN 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, on the eastern shore of the sea. 
 32 
 
 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 
 
498 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 weatlier, 
 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 
 
 RIGHT BAhK OF THE DEAD 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 
 expired, 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 fully 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 
 unrufiled 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 sul})hur. 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 sj)oken of by ancient and modern 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 409 
 
 writers, are peculiai* to this locality. The 
 plant is a perennial, specimens of which 
 have 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 j^i'essed, 
 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 Sefi, 
 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 Avhich 
 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 thf 
 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 spot, 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 for 
 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 other parties, and receiving 
 the highest encomiums of English review- 
 ers, some of whose comments, throwing 
 additional light on various points involved 
 in the subject, are here presented. 
 
LYIII. 
 
 DISCOVERY OF GOLD AT SUTTER'S MILL, CALIFOR- 
 NIA.— 1848. 
 
 Widely Extended and Inexhaustible Deposits of the Precious Metal.— The News Spreads like Wild-fire 
 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 Keal 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.— Sciircity, Fabulous Prices.— Mining 
 by Machinery.— Order and Stability Keached.— Population in 1857, 600,000.- Gold in Ten Years 
 $600,000,000. 
 
 " GnUl to fetch, and goM to send, 
 Golrl to b(irn>w, and f;"lil to lend, 
 Gold to keep, and gold to spend. 
 And abundance of t'old injuturo.' 
 
 :%^^ 
 
 
 MIXING OFEBATIONS IN CALIFORNIA 
 
 ITHOUT any exaggeration, it 
 
 may be asserted tliat no modern 
 
 event has been the canse of so 
 
 much romance in real life, — no 
 
 brancli or sjihere of trade, even though perfected by long 
 
 experience, has called into employment so many of the 
 
 means and instrumentalities of diversified human industry 
 
 and commercial intercourse, — indeed, nothing Avithin 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 tliat, too, in the soil of a territory which, by 
 
 oiiquest 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. The 
 
 -"'- 7 1 
 
 <2^V(ttiV.^ 
 
GREAT ^VND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 501 
 
 evidence of this 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 by 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 Californian, 
 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 tlie 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 years 
 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 neighborhood of Monterey, whose park- 
 like scenery — trees scattered in groups 
 
 over grassy 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 
 appeared. Industry was revived; deserted 
 villages were repeopled ; neglected lands 
 were again cultivated ; decaying towns 
 were renovated; and the busy hum of 
 toil broke that silence and lethargy which 
 brooded over an ill-governed country. 
 
 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 present to the ob- 
 servation of mankind. 
 
602 
 
 OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 "What is the character of this regioB, 
 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 
 jsiiissions. 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 
 teri'itory, 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 valle}^, 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 
 delvers. 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. 
 
 Up to the year 1847, so comparatively 
 small were the gatherings of gold, in 
 various sections of the globe, that in 
 
 *^5 ^^^1^ 
 
 SUTTEK'S MILL, WHERE GOLD WAS FIKST DISCOVEllED, IN 1848. 
 
GREA.T AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 503 
 
 reckoning the average produce of the pre- 
 cious metal, of all parts of the New and 
 Old World for a series of years previous to 
 1847, it (lid not amount to tlie annual 
 value of tvventy-tive million dollars. 
 
 It was in September, 1847, that Captain 
 John A. Suttei-, the great pioneer settler 
 in California, commenced an undertaking 
 
 JOHN A. SDTTER. 
 
 ■which led, by a very simple and ordinary 
 circumstance, to tlie first ixractical dis- 
 covery of the prodigiously 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, Avhere the Rio des los 
 Americanos pours down fi'om 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 
 AVilliam Drunnuond Stewart, he joined a 
 party, under the charge of Captain Tripps, 
 of the American Fur Company, and start- 
 ed for the broad valle3's 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, permanentl}' 
 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 name of New 
 
504 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Helvetia. From this point he cut a road 
 to the junction of the 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 im]3rovements. 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 which led 
 to the most famous discovery of gold ever 
 known 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 tliey 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 
 aj^peared 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 j-ellow 
 grains of metal, Avhich 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 Avas 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 big with events tvas this 
 point 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 tlio 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; 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 605 
 
 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 kept a sharp eye upon 
 his loaded rifle, when he, wiiom 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 that 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 carrying 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 returninsr to the fort, he 
 
 immediately went to the neighboring 
 store, kept by a Mormon, and demanded a 
 bottle of whiske3^ 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 mone}', 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 tale 
 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 
 
506 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 all the ports of all nations sails were 
 spread toward the coasts of that wealtliy 
 region. As by a magnetic impulse, the 
 sands of the Sacramento attracted popula- 
 tion. Lawyers, clergj'men, 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 j^rairie 
 garb, and gentlemen traders from all tlie 
 States of the Union, with crowds of 
 Californian women, jostled in tumultuous 
 confusion through the gold district. 
 Eveiy 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 popula- 
 tion, without law, without authoritj'-, with- 
 out restraint, toiling together in amicable 
 companionship. But the duration of this 
 condition of tilings 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 number 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 
 daily went forth to El Dorado, the golden 
 land. Some took the perilous inland route 
 across the Rocky mountains ; some went 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 507 
 
 round Cape Horn; and multitudes took 
 the Panama route. The tens of thousands 
 who thus went, liaving no other object 
 than to get gold, Iiad 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 Tran- 
 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 shipped 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 
 in 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 ! 
 
LIX. 
 ASTOR PLACE OPERA-HOUSE RIOTS, NEW YORK.— 1849. 
 
 Terrible Culmination of the Feud Between Macready, the English Star Actor, and Forrest, the Great 
 American Tragedian. — Macready Commences to Perform, but is Violently Driven from the Stage. — 
 A Mob of Twenty Thousand Men Surrounds the Tlieater, and Thunders at its Doors. — Attempt to 
 Fire and Destroy the House — Charge of tiie Military. — Lamentable Loss of Life. — Fame ol these Great 
 Actors. — Their Former Mutual Friendship — Macready's Tour in this Country. — Forrest Performs 
 in Europe. — Professional Jealousies Aroused. — Open Rupture at Last. — Macready Again in America. 
 — Engages to Play in New York. — Opposition to Him There. — Appears on the Stage, May 8th. — Fierce 
 Tumult in the House. — Groans, Hisses, Insults. — He Stands Undismayed. — Fligiit of the Audience. 
 — Re-appearance, May 10th. — The House Filled to the Dome. — Riotous Yells and Cries. — " Down 
 with the British Hog! " — Heroic Demeanor on the Stage. — Threats of the Raging Mob. — Its Bloody 
 Dispersion. — Macready Leaves the Country. 
 
 " It often falls in course of common life. 
 That ri^lit Ion;; lime is overborne of wrong; 
 But justice, tho' her doom she cloth prolong, 
 \ et, at the last, she will her own cause right." 
 
 ROFESSIONAL rivalry, based ^principally upon circumstances arising from 
 
 different nationality, had gradually produced feelings of 
 deep personal antagonism between Mr. Edwin Forrest, con- 
 fessedly the greatest of American tragedians, and Mr. W. 
 C. Macready, the most brilliant and powerful actor upon 
 the English stage ; and this alienation was shared in a still 
 greater degree of intensity by the numerous friends and 
 partisans of the respective individuals, finally culminating 
 in a tragedy of blood and de?th that shook New York to its 
 center and engrossed the attention of America and Europe 
 alike. 
 
 Mr. Forrest and his friends complained chiefly of Mr. 
 Macready's conduct in his own country, in relation to Mr. 
 Forrest, during the visit of the latter to England, in 1844, 
 — his inhospitality, his crushing influence, his vindictive 
 opposition, and his steadfast determination to ruin the pros- 
 ., pects of Mr. Forrest in Europe. Mr. Macready had previ- 
 
 FORREST, AS sPARTAcus. ously becii in America, and, accompanied by Miss Cushman, 
 
 played engagements in all the large cities, realizing therefrom fame and fortune. But 
 instead of returning this kindness, he acted openly towards Mr. Forrest as his deter- 
 mined foe. In Paris, the two tragedians met. Mr. Forrest was anxious to appear on 
 the French boards, but Macready threw obstacles in the way ; this was the first time 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 509 
 
 that the parties were enemies, — they had 
 iu by-gone years been friends. Forrest's 
 subsequent success in London aroused 
 Macready's bitter hostility, and he deter- 
 mined to put liim down. It was said at 
 the time that lie or his friends actually 
 hired men to visit the theater and hiss 
 Forrest off the stage, and Forrest was con- 
 sequently received with a shower of hisses 
 before he was heard. This conduct was 
 followed up by the press, by which both 
 Forrest and his country were assailed. 
 Forrest and Macready next met in Edin- 
 burgh, and from this city were sent forth 
 bitter charges against Forrest, the chief of 
 which was, that he had hissed JNIacready 
 for dancing and throwing up his handker- 
 chief across the stage, in one of the parts 
 which he was then enacting. 
 
 Criminations and recriminations were 
 thus indulged in, without measure, each 
 party claiming to be the one aggrieved, 
 and the quarrel enlisted the warm and 
 active interest of the public, on both sides 
 of the Atlantic. In 1848, Mr. Macready 
 again made a professional visit to the 
 United States, and, after performing in 
 various parts of the country, commenced a 
 farewell engagement at the Astor Place 
 Opera-House, New York, in May, 1849, 
 in the character of Macbeth, under the 
 auspices of Messrs. Hackett and Niblo. 
 
 Here the anti-Macready party deter- 
 mined to silence him by mob violence. 
 The seventh of May was the time appointed 
 for him to commence this engagement, — 
 with what result, the accounts given by 
 the press of that city will show, as follows : 
 As soon as the doors were opened, a very 
 large number of persons, of the male sex, 
 entered the theater, and took their seats in 
 different parts of the house. They were 
 followed by many others, among whom 
 were probably fifty or sixty ladies. Long 
 before the curtain rose, the house was well 
 filled, the gallery and parquette being quite 
 crowded. 
 
 It now began to be whispered about, 
 that the reception of Mr. Macready would 
 not be favorable on the part of a portion 
 of the auditory ; and the appearance of 
 
 Mr. Matsell, the chief-of-police, and a very- 
 strong body of the force under his orders, 
 seemed to strengthen the rumors which 
 were prevalent. The house was, however, 
 perfectly quiet until the curtain rose upon 
 the first scene, when the appearance of 
 Mr. Clarke, who personated the character 
 of Malcolm, elicited three loud and en- 
 thusiastic cheers from the parquette and 
 gallery. From this moment, the cheer- 
 ing, hissing, Avhistling, and other ex- 
 pressions of feeling began, and not a 
 syllable was heard during the remain- 
 der of the scene, and the succeeding, till 
 the entrance of Macbeth, passing in dumb 
 show. When Macbeth and Banquo en- 
 tered in the third scene, the uproar was 
 deafening. A perfect torrent of groans 
 and hisses assailed Mr. Macready, and a 
 deluge of assafoetida was discharged upon 
 him from the gallery, filling the whole 
 house with its pungent and offensive odor. 
 A rotten egg was projected against him, 
 but missing the face of the eminent trage- 
 dian, bespattered the stage at his feet. 
 The friends of Mr. Macready, who ajj- 
 peared rather to outnumber those opposed 
 to him, now manifested their feelings by 
 cries of " shame ! " " shame ! " cheers, and 
 waving of handkerchiefs, provoking a re- 
 sponse in the form of renewed groans, 
 hisses, and half a dozen rotten potatoes, 
 on the part of the others. " Three cheers 
 for Edivln Forrest ! " were called for by 
 some one in the pit, and were given with 
 great enthusiasm by those unfriendly to 
 Mr. Macready. Then came the cry of 
 " Three cheers for Macready ! " which was 
 responded to with equal enthusiasm by the 
 opposite side of the house. 
 
 The scene which followed beggars de- 
 scription. Hisses, groans, cheers, yells, 
 screams, all sorts of noises, in the midst of 
 which Mr. Macready still maintained his 
 position in the center of the stage. 
 '' Off'- " " off'- " shouted one party. " Go 
 on ! " '^ go on ! " screamed the other. Mr. 
 Macready approached the lights. He was 
 greeted by roars of ironical laughter, and 
 reiterated hisses and groans. A banner 
 was at this moment exhibited in front of 
 
510 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the amphitheater, bearing on its side, " No 
 apologies — it is too late ! " and on the 
 other, "You have ever proved yourself 
 a liar ! " The appearance of this banner 
 was the signal for a perfect tornado of 
 uproarious applause, laughter, cheers, and 
 groans, in the midst of which an old shoe 
 and a cent piece were hurled at Mr. 
 Macready, who picked up the copper coin, 
 and, with a kingly air, put it in his bosom, 
 bowing, at the same time, with mock 
 humility, to the quarter of the gallery 
 from which the visitation had descended. 
 
 Lady Macbeth, who was represented on 
 this occasion by Mrs. Coleman Pope — a 
 very beautiful and queenly-looking woman 
 — fared little better than her lord. Not a 
 .syllable of her part was audible. With 
 great calmness, and without the least 
 wavering, however, this lady made a show 
 of going through her part. All on the 
 stage fared alike. It was evident that 
 there was a fixed and settled determina- 
 tion on the part of that portion of the 
 auditory which occupied nearly one-third 
 of the parquette, and the greater portion 
 of the gallery, between whom a communi- 
 cation was kept up throughout the even- 
 ing, by means of signals and exclamations, 
 
 not to permit the performance to proceed. 
 Several of Mr. Macready's friends now 
 became much excited, and shouted to him 
 to " go on," and " not to give up the ship," 
 which elicited tremendous groans, hisses, 
 and cries of " Three groans for the, codfish 
 aristocracy" which were responded to with 
 marked enthusiasm. Cries of " Down tvith 
 the Englisli hog ! " — " Take off the Devon- 
 shire hull!'''' — '' Rememher hoiv Edivin 
 Forrest ivas used in London!" — and sim- 
 ilar exclamations, were loud and frequent. 
 Thus passed the whole of the first and 
 second acts, the uproar not ceas- 
 ing for a moment. 
 
 When the curtain fell, in the 
 second act, the tumult was fiercer 
 than ever, and it was quite ap- 
 parent that something still more 
 serious was approaching. Yet 
 the greater portion of the audi- 
 tory opposed to ]\Ir. Macready 
 seemed in excellent humor. 
 They chanted snatches of the 
 witches' choruses, and amused 
 themselves by asking repeated- 
 ly, " Where's Macreadij ? " — 
 " Where's Eliza Broivn ? " — and 
 other interrogations of that char- 
 acter. One gentleman in the 
 parquette, amongst those who 
 were hostile to Mr. Macready, 
 ogled the house through a stu- 
 pendous eye-glass, large enough 
 for a horse collar ; and others 
 threw themselves into a variety of atti- 
 tudes more peculiar than becoming. 
 " Three cheers for Macready, Nigger 
 Douglass and Pete WilUams" were now 
 called for, and given with vehemence. 
 
 At length the curtain rose on the third 
 act ; and, in dumb show, Banquo, advanc- 
 ing to the lights, commenced, but not 
 a syllable was audible. Then Macbeth 
 reappeared, and the uproar was greater 
 than ever. Smash came a chair from the 
 gallery, nearly grazing the head of a 
 member of the orchestra, and strewing 
 the stage with its fragments, Avithin a few 
 feet of Mr. Macready. He bowed and 
 smiled- Another chair fell at his feet, 
 
GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 511 
 
 with a crash wliich resounded all over the 
 house. Some of the ladies started from 
 their seats, and grew quite pale. The 
 shouts, and groans, and hisses, were 
 redoubled. Mr. Macready stood quite 
 unmoved — not the slightest tremor visible 
 — not the least bravado, either, in his 
 manner. Another chair was hurled on the 
 stage, and the curtain suddenly fell. The 
 ladies hurried from the boxes — all but a 
 few, who betrayed not the slightest alarm. 
 Still the uproar continued, and there was 
 loud talking in the lobbies. A great 
 crowd outside thundered at the doors, and 
 threatened to break into the theater. Mr. 
 Matsell and a strong party of his policemen 
 barricaded the entrances. The ladies were 
 hurried out by one of the doors that open 
 in Eighth street, and in a few minutes 
 afterwards, Mr. Macready, in a close car- 
 riage, was driven rapidly and safely away. 
 No person on the stage was injured by any 
 of the missiles thrown during the evening, 
 but almost all of the actors received a copi- 
 ous allowance of the fetid liquid which 
 was discharged from the gallery. Some 
 of the ladies expressed their feelings in 
 favor of Mr. Macready by waving their 
 
 ' 4\\\\\v\-xN\V'. 
 
 t^C^\^U. 
 
 ^ 
 
 handkerchiefs ; and many of the male 
 audience who were most enthusiastic in 
 favor of Mr. Macready, were Americans. 
 
 During the pantomime ujjon the stage, 
 the American actors playing with Macready 
 were frequently warned by the people in 
 
 the gallery to " go off the stage," or expect 
 similar treatment hereafter. In conse- 
 quence of these warnings, after the play 
 was suspended, Mr. C. W. Clarke appeared 
 in front of the curtain, as an apologist ; 
 he remarked that his family was depend- 
 ent on his exertions for a maintenance, 
 and he pleaded this fact in justification of 
 himself for having consented to play with 
 Mr. Macready. Mr. Clarke's exj)lanation 
 was cordially received ; and when it was 
 found that the performance had been 
 effectually interrupted, and that jMr. 
 Macready had abandoned the effort to 
 proceed with the play, the vast and excited 
 crowd, within and without, began to dis- 
 perse, and, about twenty minutes past ten 
 o'clock, the whole scene was perfectly 
 quiet. 
 
 But the end was not yet. Another cur- 
 tain was to rise, and a tragedy — not in 
 pantomime, but in dread reality — was to 
 be enacted to the bloody end. Regretting 
 the abandonment of his engagement by 
 Mr. Macready, and especiallj- deprecating 
 the violence which led to that determina- 
 tion on his part, a large number of the 
 leading gentlemen of New York, headed 
 by Washington Irving, addressed a note 
 to Mr. Macready, urging the fulfillment of 
 his original plan, and assuring him that the 
 good sense and respect for order character- 
 izing the community would sustain him. 
 This request was acceded to, and the 
 evening of May tenth appointed for the 
 performance. Unfortunately, the publica- 
 tion of this correspondence was regarded 
 as an open challenge to the other party ; 
 placards were circulated that the crew of 
 the Cunard (English) steamer America 
 were resolved to sustain their countrymen 
 with arms ; and the calling out of the mil- 
 itary by the mayor on Thursday afternoon, 
 as a measure of precaution for the evening, 
 added fuel to the flame. It became evi- 
 dent throughout the day that there would 
 be a serious collision between the rioters 
 and the military, in the event of the 
 former attempting to execute their threats 
 against Mr. Macready. 
 
 As early as half-past six o'clock, persons 
 
512 
 
 OUE FIKST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 began to assemble around the theater ; 
 and, at about seven, crowds were seen 
 wending their yvay to the theater from all 
 parts of the city. By half-past seven, 
 there was a multitude in the streets, in 
 front of the opera-house, and the rush to 
 get admittance was tremendous. Tickets 
 for a sufficient number to fill the house 
 were soon sold, and the announcement 
 made on a placard that no more would be 
 sold. Meantime, the crowd outside was 
 tremendous, and increasing every minute. 
 Every avenue to the theater soon became 
 densely crowded. Astor Phxce was occu- 
 pied by an immense assemblage, almost all 
 of whom had apparently been attracted 
 by curiosit3^ The portion of the Bowery 
 adjoining the theater was also crowded, 
 and, in Broadway, which had at that point 
 been opened for the purpose of construct- 
 ing a sewer, hundreds of j)ersons were seen 
 crowded together on the top of the mound 
 of earth thrown up from the center of the 
 street. 
 
 The house itself was filled to the dome. 
 A great portion of the assemblage in the 
 theater consisted of policemen, who had 
 been distributed all over the house in de- 
 tached parties. There was not any appear- 
 ance of an organized party of rioters in 
 the house. When the curtain rose, there 
 was an outburst of hisses, groans, cheers, 
 and miscellaneous sounds. The opening 
 scenes, however, were got through with 
 after a fashion, several persons who hissed 
 ajid hooted having been seized by the 
 police, and immediately conveyed to an 
 apartment underneath the boxes, where 
 they were placed in confinement. Mac- 
 ready's appearance was the signal for a 
 great explosion of feeling. Hisses, groans, 
 shouts of derision, assailed him, intermin- 
 gled with loud cries of " Out ivith him!^^ 
 " Out with hi)/i ! " Large numbers of the 
 auditory started to their feet, and called 
 on tlie police to eject the individuals who 
 had expressed their disapprobation, and 
 several arrests were made in the manner 
 already described, eacli arrest being fol- 
 lowed by loud cheers and applause all over 
 the house. 
 
 Thus the play proceeded through the 
 first two acts. There had been a great 
 deal of trepidation behind the scenes, but 
 the heroism with which the actors and 
 actresses sustained themselves on the 
 stage, elicited much praise. The manner 
 of Mrs. Pope, the Lady Macbeth of this 
 melancholy night, was especially com- 
 mended. It was, indeed, a trying scene- 
 Mr. Macready repeatedly expressed to 
 Mr. Hackett, his wish to desist, and his 
 desire to avoid any further collision with 
 those who were opposed to his appearance ; 
 but, amid the shouts, groans, liisses, and 
 arrests by the police, the play went on, 
 much of it in dumb show, but portions of 
 it without material interruption. It was 
 supposed, at this moment, that the tumult 
 would be effectually quelled, for the dis- 
 turbance in the house became less and 
 less, and even some passages of Mr. 
 Macready' s part were heard with a tolera- 
 ble degree of order. 
 
 The first persons arrested in the par- 
 quette were four ^''oung men, who were 
 locked up in the temporary prison under 
 the boxes. In this apartment was a gas- 
 light burning, and the prisoners, pulling 
 up some shavings and pieces of wood, set 
 fire to them. When the policemen opened 
 the door, the place was full of smoke, but 
 the officers speedily extinguished the fire. 
 The prisoners who had attempted this 
 atrocious crime were immediately put in 
 irons. At this moment a shower of stones 
 assailed the windows of the theater ; and 
 news soon came in from the street, that a 
 man named Judson was heading the mob 
 outside, and calling upon them to stone 
 the building. The chief-of-police at once 
 ordered his arrest, which was promptly 
 effected. In the meantime, the assault 
 upon the doors and windows was continued, 
 volley after volley of large paving stones 
 being discharged against them. The 
 glass was, of course, in a few moments, 
 broken to atoms ; but, having been barri- 
 caded, the windows resisted the attack for 
 some minutes. Yielding at last, however, 
 — the fragments of glass, and blinds, and 
 barricades, being driven with violence into 
 
GllEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 513 
 
 the body of tlie house, — great ahirm began 
 to pervade the audience. Humors of all 
 kind?* — that the house was to be fired, — 
 that it was to be blown up, — and so on, 
 were circula'^ed. The ladies, seven in 
 number, who were present, and who, with 
 a heroism creditable to their sex, had till 
 this moment preserved their equanimity, 
 now became alarmed, and shifted their 
 seats to the least exposed positions. 
 
 And now, the scene being enacted was 
 most exciting. In front and rear, tlie fierce 
 assaults of the mob, as they thundered at 
 the doors, resounded all over the theater, 
 whilst the shouts and yells of the assail- 
 
 Tites afterwards, two troops of cavah-y, of 
 the first division of the state militia, and 
 a battalion of the national guards, were 
 seen a])proaching the place of the riot. 
 
 A troop of horse now turned from 
 Broadway into Astor Place, and rode 
 through the crowd to the Bowery, receiv- 
 ing showers of stones and other missiles, 
 on their way. The horses became unman- 
 ageable, and the troop did not again mahe 
 its appearance on the ground. In a few 
 minutes afterwards, the national guard, 
 one of the independent volunteer compa- 
 nies of the city, made their appearance on 
 the ground, and attempted to force a pas- 
 
 ASTOR PLACH OPERA-HOUSE RIOTS. 
 
 ants were terrific. Inside, however, all 
 was comparatively quiet. The police 
 arrested summarily the leading rioters in 
 the house, and, making sorties among the 
 crowd outside, secured many of the ring- 
 leaders of the mob. 
 
 As the mob increased in magnitude 
 and in the ferocity with which they assailed 
 the building, the cry arose, " JVhere are 
 the military/?'' " Can nothing he done to 
 dlspei'se the rioters ? " " Where's the 
 maj/or?" Several dispatches M'ere sent 
 to the City hall, where the militarj'- were 
 stationed. At length, about nine o'clock, 
 the sound of a troop of cavalry coming up 
 
 Broadway was heard ; and in a few min- 
 33 
 
 sage through the crowd to the theater. 
 The mob hissed and hooted at them, and 
 finally attacked them with stones, which 
 were at hand in consequence of the build- 
 ing of the sewer in the vicinit3\ The com- 
 pany were at this i)eriod thrown into dis- 
 order by the attack made wpon them, and 
 retired to Broadway, where they rallied, 
 and made another attempt to reach the 
 theater. They were liissed and pelted as 
 before, with stones, but they succeeded in 
 gaining the desired point. They then 
 endeavored to form in line on the sidewalk, 
 and while doing so, five or six of them, 
 including the captain of the company, were 
 felled to the ground by paving stones, and 
 
514 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 taken insensible into the theater. The 
 next officer in command then said to the 
 sheriff, wlio was on tlie ground, tliat if 
 orders did not come to fire, he and his 
 men would abandon the streets. Accord- 
 ingly, the officer directed the company to 
 fire around over the heads of the people, 
 which was done, but without effect. The 
 multitude continued to pelt them with 
 paving stones, as before. An order was 
 then given to the company to fire at the 
 crowd, and it was done, two men falling, 
 one shot in the arm, and the other through 
 the right cheek. The first was sent to the 
 hospital, but the other was found to be 
 dead. After the volley, the mob re- 
 treated a short distance, but rallied and 
 renewed the attack with greater vigor than 
 before. Paving stones and other missiles 
 were discharged at them in great quanti- 
 ties ; and while the mob was going on, 
 another volley was fired by the military, 
 killing and wounding several more. 
 
 After this volley, the crowd reti'eated 
 again, and the military and the police took 
 advantage of it to form a line across the 
 street at both ends of Astor Place, so as to 
 prevent any connection between Broadway 
 and the Bowery. General Sandford then 
 issued an order for more troops and two 
 brass pieces loaded with grape to be 
 brought to the scene immediatelj', as it 
 was rumored that the crowd intended to 
 arm themselves and renew the attack. 
 Before the volleys were discharged. Gen- 
 eral Sandford several times called out to 
 the crowd, that they must hold back, or 
 the troops would fire ; and, on the sheriff 
 at last giving the order, General Hall 
 exclaimed, '■^ Five over their headsP The 
 order to fire was repeated by GciuM-al 
 Sandford and Colonel Durj'ea, and the 
 men fired over the heads of the mob, 
 against the walls of a house. A shout was 
 then made by the mob, " They have only 
 blank rarfridf/es — r/ive it tothevi again !^'' 
 and another volley of stones followed 
 instantly. The troops were then ordered 
 
 by General Sandford and Colonel Durvea, 
 to fire again, General Hall saying, '^Flre 
 loii;" and then, for the first time, the mob 
 began to give way. The troops thereupon 
 moved forward and crossed the street, 
 driving the crowd before them, until the 
 troops got near to the corner of Lafa^-ette 
 Place. The mob rallied at the corner of 
 Lafaj'ette Place on one side, and at the 
 corner of the theater and broken ground 
 at the opposite side, and advanced again 
 with fresh showers of stones on the trooj^s. 
 Several of the military were hurt severely 
 by this second attack, and orders were 
 given to the troops to fire, one-half 
 obliquely to the right, and one-half ob- 
 liquely to the left, on those two bodies. 
 This was done, and the crowd fell back to 
 Lafayette Place, and bej'ond the broken 
 ground behind the theater. There was no 
 firing after this by the troops, but the 
 mob kept up constant attacks. 
 
 The number of lives lost in this terrible 
 occurrence was twentj'-two, and a large 
 number were wounded. The whole number 
 of military engaged in the conflict was 
 about two hundred and ten, one-half in the 
 line of Broadwa}', and the other in the 
 line towards the Bowery. The mob was 
 estimated by some as high as twenty thou- 
 sand ; but, on account of the street lights 
 having been put out, it was exceedingly 
 dark, and nothing could be seen but a 
 dense mass of people, swaj'ing and surg- 
 ing like a troubled sea, while hoarse 
 shouts and wild cheers and curses rent 
 the air. 
 
 The element of personal animosity 
 between these two distinguished histrionic 
 cliaracters, had, beyond all question, ob- 
 tained deep root, and, in addition to this, 
 appeal was made by their friends, respec- 
 tively, to the prejudices of nationality, and 
 thus the reception accorded Mr. Macready 
 differed widelj' fx-om that which greeted 
 him on his previous visit to America. Mr. 
 Macready, soon after this tragedy, left for 
 England. 
 
LX. 
 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. — Tiie 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 — Bich 
 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 deadl"-CRT of the Dead-Cart Drivehs. 
 
 
 UAKER order, cleanliness, and temperance, so characteristic of the 
 "city of brotherly love," did not save Philadelphia from being vis- 
 ited, at an early period after the 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 develojDment, is entitled to 
 the first mention in an article like this, and reminiscences of 
 which — deeply interesting and indeed in some instances 
 'ififi) almost tragical — will be found in the highest degree 
 
 readable, at the present day. 
 
 ,„ __^ Following this, was the malignant spotted 
 
 iiP.rr^=rv:^ - ^ fever, in which the patient had large red spots 
 '''(ll'i'/Mdr^ here and there ; it broke out in Massachusetts, 
 'iSlllf in 1806 and continued until 1815, in the various 
 
 northern states. In 1812, the United States 
 
 STUUf'K WITH THE CH0LnR.\.. 
 
 It>, army in New York and Vermont suffered se- 
 r_ 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- 
 
516 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 cliolera, 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 Y'ork ; 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 July, 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 
 
 December, 1848, and continued through 
 the winter. So frightful were its devasta- 
 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 Y'ork in IMay, and, 
 so violent was its spread, that during the 
 week ending July 21st, more than seven 
 hundred deaths occurred ; the mortalitj'' 
 that week was the greatest^that had ever 
 taken place in any 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, Avas, 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 
 prayer, that God would " avert the i)esti- 
 lence that walketh in darkness and the 
 destruction that wasteth at noonday." 
 
 Again, in 1853, terror and panic seized 
 the land, from another visitation of the 
 yellow 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 widel}-, that little of a 
 conclusive character, on these points, can 
 be presented ; and the same may be said 
 respecting the modes of treatment. IMuch, 
 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- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 il7 
 
 delphia. The dread of the contagion drove 
 parents from tlieir children, and even 
 wives from their husbands. All the ties 
 of affection and consanguinity were rent 
 asunder, and luimanity was left to mourn 
 over its own selfishness, iu 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 
 liad occurred of some of them havin<r 
 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 lionses were scaicely a 
 moment free from the smell of gunpowder, 
 
 MONUMENT TO THE VICTIMS OF CHOLEEA. 
 
 Carey, the historian of that period, most 
 of the inhabitants who could, by any 
 means, make it convenient, fled from the 
 city. 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, spi'inkled 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 
 
as 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 tlie grave on tlie shafts of a chair, the horse 
 driven by a negro, unattended by a friend 
 or reUition, and without any sort of cere- 
 mony. People uniformly and hastily shift- 
 ed their course at the sight of a hearse 
 coming towards them. ]\Iany never walked 
 on the foot-path, but went in the middle 
 of the streets, to avoid being infected in 
 passing houses wherein people had died. 
 Acquaintances and friends avoided each 
 other in the streets, and only signified 
 their regard by 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 having any other 
 appearance of mourning, was shunned like 
 a viper; 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 carrj-ing 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 beyond 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, 
 immeasurabl}'^ worse than with the rich. 
 Many of them })erished, 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 swept over the land, 
 carrying desolation and anguish to so 
 
 many happy 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 emploj-ed 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, were 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 ]ny, 
 for a considerable time, in a condition of 
 anguish truly indescribable ; at length, 
 she struggled to reach the window, and 
 cried out for assistance. Two men, j^ass- 
 ing by, went up stairs ; but they came at 
 too late a stage — for she was even tlien 
 striving with death — and actually, in a 
 few minutes, exj^ired 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, 
 
GREAT AXD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 519 
 
 no less tlian five dead bodies, an entire 
 family, carried oft" witliin a few hours. 
 
 Before arrangements could be made and 
 carried out, by the public authorities, to 
 mitigate the severities of 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, wliere she could find no 
 per^iou willing to receive her. One of the 
 
 inquired into the state of affairs. The 
 other, to indulge the contemj»tible pro- 
 pensity of hoaxing, told him, that a coffin- 
 maker, who had been employed by the 
 committee fur 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 journe^^men em- 
 l^loyed 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 
 
 UORROES OF THE 
 
 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, 
 wlio had been absent for several weeks, 
 was returning to the city in the second 
 week of November, having heard that the 
 danger \vas no more. He met a man on 
 the road going from the city, and. naturally 
 
 GREAT EPIDEMIC. 
 
 deliver up their charge, finding, to theii 
 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 him. 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. 
 
520 
 
 OUE FIRST CENT UllY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Tlie wife of a man who lived in Walnut 
 street, Philadelphia, was seized with the 
 disease, and giv^en over by the 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 coffin for her; but on entering 
 tlie house, what was his astonisliment to 
 find her much recovered. He himself, 
 however, fell sick shortly after, died, and 
 was buried in the 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 3'ard. In a 
 week she was herself a corpse, and was 
 buried in the very coffin she had rejected. 
 
 The powers 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 an_y- 
 where else. Tluis 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. Tlie rever- 
 end gentleman was surprised tliat 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 away, and positively refuse d 
 to officiate in their behalf, stating that he 
 was too busy attending the sick and ad- 
 ministering the last consolations to the 
 dying. The impatient pair next proceeded 
 to the clergyman of St. Patrick's, who 
 exhibited a like surprise at the urgenc}' ( f 
 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 
 lionej'moon. 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, generally 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, vhile tlie 
 plague raged in that city, and whidi 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 (sa3's Livingston), ami I had 
 gone one evening, in a carriage, a short 
 distance from the city, to breathe the j>ure 
 air of the country, when I met on the road, 
 at the very moment Avhen 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 ])erson to his flock 
 an example of the Christian virtues which 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 521 
 
 lie preached to them witli 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. W^e are taking care of the sick. 
 The physicians are discharging most nobly 
 their glorious mission — but u'hat can ^re 
 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 wantin". The wretched ask in 
 vain for those ph^'sicians of the mind dis- 
 eased, whose consolations can cure the 
 wounds of the spirit and rob death of its 
 terrors. Well — what do 3^ou say ? 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 
 mitrht well have excused him for sharinsr 
 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 appal the 
 stoutest heart — the mournful gloom of 
 those empty streets, their silence broken 
 only by the rumbling of the dead-cart and 
 the driver's hoarse cry, " Bring out your 
 dead ! " — those houses left open and fully 
 furnished, from which the owners had fled 
 — that forest of shipping, deserted and 
 silent as those of the Avestern 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 plourjhed fields. 
 
 But the anecdote of Livingston and the 
 clerical friend is well offset by one related 
 of the Rev. ]\Ir. AVhitall, 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 A\\\.y 
 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, aiul 
 laying 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 appropriations 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 
 i^recautions 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- 
 
no 9 
 
 O — ^ 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 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 alleys, 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 constantlv 
 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 onl}^ 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 i)erliaps seen alive a few lionrs or a 
 day before. But even these sad impres- 
 
 sions, though for the time strong and 
 afiHictive, soon wore awa}-, 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 peojile 
 fled; the city was visited by no one 
 except four thieves, Avho 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 i:)ass 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 spai-e his life 
 he would teach them to make the vinegar 
 of four thieves, by means of which they 
 had escaj^ed the plague when robbing the 
 city, — 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 credulously 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 t)ie 
 unfortunate victims. 
 
LXI. 
 
 MURDER OF DR. GEORGE PARKMAN, A NOTED MILLION- 
 AIRE OF BOSTON, BY PROF. JOHN W. WEBSTER, OF 
 HARVARD COLLEGE.— 1849. 
 
 IIig;h Social Position of tlie Parties. — Instantaneous Outburst of Surprise, Alarm, and Terror, in the 
 Community, on tiie Discovery of the Deed. — Kemarkabie Ciiain ot Ciicumstances Leading to the 
 Murderer's Detection — Solenm and Exciting Trial — Account of tlie Mortal Blow and Disposal of tliu 
 Kemains. — Similar Case of Colt and Adams. — Parkman's Wealth and Fame — Mysterious Disappear 
 ance, November 23 — Appointment with Professor Webster, that Day. — Their Unhappy Pecuniar\ 
 Kelations. — 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 Colle^je 
 E.xplored. — Scene in Webster's Rooms —The Tea-Chest, Vault, and Furnace.— Human Remains 
 P'ound There. — Identified as Dr. Parkman's. — Arrest of Webster at Night. — Attempt at Suicide on 
 the Spot. — Beiiavior in Court — His Atrocious Guilt Proved. — Rendering the Verdict. — He Boldly 
 Addresses the Jury — Nsserts 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. 
 
 "Tt doth spem ton hlondv. 
 First, to dit off till" head, thi-n hiick tin- limhs; — 
 Like wratli iu dtath, aud malice afterwards." 
 
 EMORABLE, almost beyond a parallel, in the crim- 
 inal annals of America, 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 familj'-, and 
 highly respected, one of the founders of the Massa- 
 chusetts Medical College there, about sixty years oi 
 ae:e, of rather remarkable person and very active 
 
 '■o^j 
 
 PROF. WEBSTIZlt'S MURDER ATPLIANCES. 
 
 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- 
 
524 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 noon ; at two o'clock, therefore, there being 
 no tidings of liim, 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 years of age, about five 
 feet and nine inches high, gray hair, thin 
 face, with a scar ^.er the chin, light com- 
 plexion, and usu.uly a rapid walker; he 
 was dressed in a dark frock coat, dark pan- 
 taloons, puri)le 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 
 Farkman 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. 
 
 Tlie 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 by 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 1'''47. 
 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 fift^'-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, November twent^'-third, and ar- 
 ranged that the doctor should meet him at 
 the college at half-past one ; that Doctor 
 Parkman came at that hour, liaving 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 jilace in the col- 
 lege on the previous Monday, Doctor Park- 
 man indignantly complained to Professor 
 Webster that the cabinet of minerals, which 
 was mortgaged to him in security of tlie 
 advances he made, had been afterwards 
 fraudulently sold to his brother-in-law, ISIr. 
 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, chnvging l^rofessor 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 525 
 
 "Webster with dishonesty. At parting, Doc- 
 tor Parknian is reported to have said with 
 much energy, "something must be done 
 to-morrow ! " Tlie following day, Profes- 
 sor Webster sent a note to Doctor Park- 
 man, in response to wliich the doctor went 
 out to Cambridge, on Thursday, to Profes- 
 sor Webster's liouse. 
 
 Every clue discovered led the searchers 
 back to the medical college in Poston, 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 cheerfull}^ accompanying the 
 officers 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 Frida}', in the 
 laboratory, 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 W^ebster on the charge of 
 murder. It was a case, in comparison 
 with which, those of Hare, Avery, 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 j'ears 
 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 Professur Webster's 
 absence. 
 
 /"^ ^cur-^. 
 
 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, l^nng 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 scapulfe attached, and having 
 a perforation in the region of the heart; 
 and a left thigh, to which a piece of string 
 
526 
 
 OUR riEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 §heath-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- 
 sist 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 
 his keys, and would go back and get them ; 
 lie 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 miglit 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 tliat till' river had been dragged 
 above and below the bridge. As the coach 
 
 went along, the driver passed bej'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 l)is 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 Clapp then said, "Gentlemen, 
 I guess we had better walk into the inner 
 office." Looking strangely at Clapp, Pro- 
 fessor Webster said — 
 
 " What is the meanii^g of oil t/iis?" 
 " Professor Webster," replied Mr. Clapp, 
 " j'ou will perhaps remember that in com- 
 ing over Cambridge bridge, I told 30U 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 custod)/, on the charrje of being his mur- 
 derer ! " 
 
 On hearing this 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 j^l^inly, 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 not .^ay anything to any- 
 body at that time. On afterwards carry- 
 ing the prisoner to the college and labora- 
 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 hand(d 
 
GREAT AND ^lEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 527 
 
 him water, but he could not drinlc, and 
 sna[)i)eil at tlie glass like a mad dog. 
 Concerning this period, Professor Web- 
 ster states, in his own words: 'When I 
 found the carriage was stopping at the 
 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, W^ilde, Metcalf, and 
 Dewey, of the supreme judicial court of 
 Massachusetts, 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 betraj'ed 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 
 ?trani;er 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 sti'ong animal passions, and irasci- 
 ble temperament. The cheek-bones high, 
 and the mouth, with compressed lips, be- 
 trayed 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 W^alker, Professors Peirce, Bowen, 
 Hosford, Palfrey, and Wyman. Scientific 
 testimony was also given by Prof. 0. W. 
 Holmes, and others ; and the court sat 
 eight or nine hours each da3^ 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 anatoni}^, under the 
 skillful hand of Prof. Jeffries AVyman, 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 
 
528 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 heiglit, ■\vliich, on tlic 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 b}' four fragments of the right half, 
 imi)lied a rising chin, which was so promi- 
 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 
 Aveek succeeding the day of Doctor Park- 
 man's disappearance, was locked in his 
 l.iboratory 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 
 tliain 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 sliuuld be fmall}- 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 also 
 soon ap[)eared in the charge of an officer; 
 lie moved with a quick, nervous step, and 
 took his place in a cliair beside the prison- 
 er's dock, wliich he soon after changed for 
 the arm-chair in the iron picket indosures. 
 His appearance was pale and thoughtful, 
 with a serious dejectedness which was ap- 
 parent in the contraction of the muscles 
 about the mouth. The ])rofo>ind 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 sj^eak for 3-ou, gentlemen ? " 
 
 " The foreman," answered some of the 
 
 jury. 
 
 "John W. Webster, hold up 3'our 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 jviry." 
 
 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 you, Mr. Foreman, is John 
 W. Webster, the prisoner at the bar, guilty, 
 or not guilty ? " demanded the clerk. 
 
 " Guilt// ! " 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- 
 denl3' been deprived 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 529 
 
 which the murder was committed : — Doc- 
 tor Park man agreed to call on me as I 
 j)roposed. He came, accordingly, between 
 half-past one and two o'clock, entering at 
 tlie lecture-room door. I was engaged in 
 removing some lecture-room glasses from 
 my tahle 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 liandiest, (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 Avhat 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. 
 
 I'KoFiiSijuu weuster's cell in pkisox. 
 
 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 years ago, congratulating 
 him on his success in getting me appointed 
 Professor of Chemistry. ' You see,' he 
 said, ' I was the means of getting j^ou 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 interpo.-?- 
 ing, trying to pacify him, so that I might 
 34 
 
 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 hoi-ror and conster- 
 nation I ran instinctively 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 
 
530 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 the one hand, and of infamy and destruc- 
 tion on the other. The first thing I did, 
 as soon as I coukl do anything, was to 
 draw tlie hody into tlie private room ad- 
 joining, where I took off tlie clothes and 
 began putting them into the fire, which 
 Avas 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 with which the fatal blow 
 had been struck, proved to be a ^nece 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-vino, 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 u[) 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 pock-et. I do not know why I did tliis 
 rather than put them in the fire, for I had 
 not considered for a moment what effect 
 either mode of disposing of them Avould 
 have on the mortgage, or my indebtedness 
 to Doctor Parkman and the other persons 
 
 interested, and I had not yet 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 mj'self 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 vnder 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 sa^'s, 
 was the last he had to do with the remains. 
 The fish-hooks, tied up as grapples, were 
 to be used for drawing wp 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 exam|)les, 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 bi-eath of life, and 
 
GIIEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 631 
 
 in full view of the classic halls of Harvard 
 College, John White Webster j)ai(l the 
 extreme peualty of tlu' hiw. and his form 
 now lies interred in one of tJie sequestered 
 dells of Mount Auburn, not far from the 
 spot where rest the shattered remains of 
 the ill-fated Parkman. Professor Webster 
 oweil 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 pay. 
 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. 
 
 For some days, the mj^sterious 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 
 ]\[r. 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. 
 IVIr. 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 he 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 jDurpose of marrying the 
 murderer to his mistress, Caroline Hen- 
 shaw. The ceremony was performed, Colt 
 manifesting a deep interest in their child. 
 He also lianded 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 b}^ the hand, and conversed with ap- 
 parent cheerfulness with them for five 
 minutes, when they bade him farewell, both 
 of them in tears. Colt's wife, and hi.- 
 brother Samuel, also soon left, both dee])l\ 
 affected. The wife could scarcely support 
 herself, so violent were her feelings anc 
 acute her sufferings. She stood at tlu 
 door of the cell for a minute — Colt kiss- 
 ing her passionately, straining her to hi.- 
 bosom, and watdiing intensely her reced- 
 ing form, as she passed into the corridor 
 
532 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Here she 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 w^as 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 
 tlie 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 you 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. This was 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 
 
 and down his cell, but turned around on the 
 door opening, smiled on Hillyer, shook him 
 by the hand and kissed him, as he 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 prospei 
 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 
 w'orked 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, jiroceeded to the cell. On the 
 keeper opening the door. Doctor Anthon, 
 who Avas first, threw up his hands and eyes 
 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 ej'es partially so, and 
 his body lay as straight on the bed as if 
 laid out for a funeral by others. Most 
 strange to say, just at this moment, the 
 large cupola of the prison was discovered 
 to be on fire, and burned furiously. The 
 scene and circumstances were tragical to », 
 degree altogether indescribable. 
 
LXII. 
 
 THE UNITED STATES GRINNELL EXPEDITIONS OF 1850 
 AND 1853, TO THE ARCTIC SEAS.— 1850. 
 
 Search for Sir John Franklin, the Lost Navigator. — Traces of His Melancholy and Mysterious Fate. — 
 Dr. Kane's Discovery of an Open Polar Sea, Tliree Thousand Square Miles in Area. — The "Great 
 Glacier," a Lofty and Dazzling Ice-Wall of Boundless Dimensions. — The " Stars and Stripes " Car- 
 ried Farther North than any other Flag. — Origin of this Undertaking. — Franklin's Bold Enterprise — 
 No Tidings of him for Years. — Vessels Sent in Search. — Lady Franklin's Warm Appeal — Mr. Grin- 
 nell'a Noble Response — Fits out Dellaven's Expedition. — Sailing of the Advance and Rescue — Frank- 
 lin's Winter Quarters Found — Dellaven Imbedded in Ice. — Eighty Days of Polar Darkness — Fruit- 
 less Efforts : Return Home — Renewed Search by Dr. Kane. — At the Extreme Solitary North — Its Ter- 
 ror and Sublimity. — Mercury and Whiskey Freeze Solid. — No Sunlight for Five Months. — A Vast 
 Crystal Bridge. — It Connects Two Continents. — Kane Ice Bound: Awful Perils — One Thousand Three 
 Hundred Miles Traveled in Sledges — Final Escape : Arrival Home. — Dr. Hayes's Heroic Adventures. 
 
 " Waste and wild the view I 
 An endless desert, where extreme of cold 
 Ettrnal sits, as in his native seat. 
 In wintry hills of never-thawing ice." 
 
 OYAGES and expeditions of discovery to the Arctic waters, on the 
 part of European nations, have been quite numerous, in modern 
 times ; but it was not until the year 1850, that the epoch of Arctic 
 adventure commenced in the United States. The main object of the 
 enterprising expedition of Polar discovery which sailed from Amer- 
 ica, ift May, of the year just named, was to search for Sir John 
 Franklin, the celebrated English explorer of that ice-bound region, 
 who sailed from the Thames, in the spring of 1845, in command of the ships Erebus 
 and Terror, but, not returning, his probable fate absorbed the minds of the whole Brit- 
 ish public to the highest degree, — every theory being discussed which would account 
 for his prolonged absence, and every means brought into requisition, by which succor 
 could be rendered. Several expeditions were sent out from England, in quest of the 
 gallant Franklin, but without any more positive result than the finding of a few distinct 
 though unproductive traces of his melancholy and mysterious fate. Lady Franklin 
 equipped an expedition at her own expense ; and also made an affecting appeal to the 
 United States government, to lend its aid in furthering the search. This was responded 
 to, with a hearty good-will, by the American people ; and called forth the munificent 
 offer of ten thousand dollars from Mr. Henry Grinnell, a wealthy and honored merchant 
 and philanthropist, of New York, in behalf of an expedition that should sail under the 
 American flag, for the far-off region of the lost adventurers. This offer was accepted 
 and the enterprise soon asumed a definite character. Mr. Grinnell supplying the 
 
534 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 vessels and means, and tlie national gov- 
 ernment the men and the discipline. On 
 account of this union of governmental and 
 individual patronage, the enterprise was 
 called " The United States GrinneU Expe- 
 dition in Search of Sir John Franklin.'' 
 
 On the 23d of May, this expedition em- 
 barked from New York. It consisted of 
 two brigs, the Advance and Rescue, 
 manned by thirty-eight men. They were 
 placed under the command of Lieut. E. J. 
 DeHaven ; and Doctor E. K. Kane was 
 appointed surgeon and naturalist to the 
 expedition. The other principal officers 
 were Messrs. Griffin, Murdaugh, Carter, 
 Lovell, Brooks, and Vreeland. A.i hands, 
 officers and men, were thoroughly equipped 
 for Arctic duty. 
 
 On the beginning of July, the vessels 
 were in Baffin Bay, struggling on amidst 
 icebergs and ice-floes, which increased in 
 number and perplexity as Melville Bay 
 
 was approached. The passage of the lat- 
 ter was an arduous affair, and so tedious 
 that little hope was entertained of reach- 
 ing Barrow Strait before the close of 
 the season; but, much to their surprise, 
 they entered Wellington Sound on the 
 2()th of August, 1850, and were among the 
 first to explore Cape Riley and Beechey 
 Island, where they strui-k upon unmistak- 
 alile evidence of Franklin's first winter 
 quarters — three graves with inscriptions 
 on wooden head-boards, dating as late as 
 April, 1846 ; their inmates, according to 
 
 these inscriptions, were of his crew, two 
 being from the Ei'ebus and one from the 
 Terror. There were, besides, fragments 
 of canvas, articles of clothing, wood and 
 cordage, undoubted proof of a large and 
 long encampment, — but affording no indi- 
 cations which would serve as guides to the 
 searchers or give assurance to hope- 
 After severa^ ineffectual efforts to con- 
 tinue the search, which were frustrated by 
 the great accumulation of ice. Lieutenant 
 DeHaven determined on returning hoipe, 
 but found that they were locked in, near 
 the mouth of AVellington's Channel. And 
 now commenced the wonderful ice-drift, 
 the account of which roads more like ro- 
 mance than reality. In battling with the 
 ice the Rescue became disabled, and all 
 her crew were removed to the Advance. 
 By force of the northern ice-drift they 
 were helplessly drifted to 75° 25' north 
 latitude, and thence drifted again into 
 Lancaster Sound. The agitation of the 
 ice elevated the Advance some seven feet 
 by the stern, and keeled her nearly three 
 feet starboard. In this position she re- 
 mained, with some slight changes, for five 
 consecutive months. It was while im- 
 bedded in their huge ice cradle that they 
 were carried up Wellington Channel to 
 the degree of latitude already named, and 
 there they saw land to the north-west to 
 which the name of Grinnell was given. 
 While in the midst of their ice island, 
 which was five miles long and three broad, 
 the depth of winter was around them, in 
 all its frozen terrors. The polar night fell 
 upon them, and for eighty days no ray of 
 solar light broke ujion their vision. The 
 thermometer ranged forty degrees below 
 zero, and sometimes sank to forty-six. 
 They every moment expected the embrac- 
 ing ice would crush the vessel to atoms, 
 and consequently stood prepared, sleeping 
 in their clothes, with knapsacks on their 
 backs, to try their chances on the ice, mid 
 storm, and terror, and night. They were 
 then ninety miles from land. The scurvy, 
 too, broke out, only three men escaping 
 an attack ; but it finally j'ielded to a bev- 
 erage composed of a sort of apple tea and 
 
GRExVT AND MEiAlORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 635 
 
 lemon juice. The stores, materials, aiul 
 cordage, were stowed away in snow-liouses 
 erected on the ice, where the party formed 
 a sort of encampment. 
 
 But this situation of peril and awe was 
 not wholly without its attractions. Auro- 
 ras, parhelia — mock suns, and mock moons 
 — of the most vivid luster, succeeded one 
 another without intermission, and as day 
 approai^hed, the twilights, streaking the 
 northern horizon, were vividly beautiful. 
 At length, the orb of day showed his 
 golden face, and was hailed with three 
 hearty American cheers. Gradually his 
 influence was felt, and the waxen-like color 
 of the complexion, which the long night 
 had superinduced, gave j^lace to freckles 
 and tan. The Rescue was re-occupied on 
 the 1.3 th of May. 
 
 The disruption of the ice was sudden 
 and appalling. In twenty minutes from 
 its first moving, the vast field, as far as 
 the eye could reach, became one mass of 
 moving floes, and the expedition once more 
 drifted southward. On the lOtli of June, 
 having passed the perils of Lancaster 
 Sound and Baffin Bay, they emerged into 
 open water, a little south of the Arctic cir- 
 cle, being thus released from an imprison- 
 ment of almost nine months, during which 
 they helplessly drifted nearly eleven hun- 
 dred miles. While in Lancaster Sound, 
 the roar of the rolling water and tumblingr 
 ice exceeded all earthly tumult, and was 
 sonratimas so loud and stunning as to ren- 
 der both voice and hearing useless. 
 
 Once more in open water, and the ves- 
 sels being in good order, the gallant com- 
 mmdar determined to renew the search 
 for Franklin. Bearing northward, the 
 vessels reached Baffin Island, July 11th, 
 and entered through vast masses of loose 
 ice. By the eighth of August, the expedi- 
 tion became completely entangled in floes 
 and bergs, and again encountered perils 
 of the most alarming kind. The floating 
 ice broke in the bulwarks, and covered the 
 decks in broken masses ; but against all 
 this, the vessels showed themselves proof, 
 and, by the nineteenth of August, were safe 
 in an open road. Finding, however, the 
 
 north and west already closed against them 
 by the impassable ice, and being warned 
 by the fast-waning season, that, to persist 
 longer in the trial would be to run the risk 
 of si)ending another winter like the last, 
 the connnander determined to set sail 
 homeward, and the expedition arrived at 
 New York, September 30, 1851, without 
 the loss of a single man. 
 
 The e(]ual ill success thus far attending 
 the English and American efforts to dis- 
 cover Franklin's fate, instead of discourag- 
 ing, tended rather to stimulate fresh exer- 
 tions, and, foremost among the hopeful 
 spirits in this country, was Dr. E. K. Kane, 
 one of the most intrepid members of the 
 American exploring party under DeHaven. 
 In the month of December, 1852, there- 
 fore, he was commissioned by the United 
 States government to conduct an exj^edi- 
 tion to the Arctic seas, in renewed search 
 of the lost navigator. The combined lib- 
 erality of Mr. Grinnell and Mr. George 
 Peabody placed the Advance at Doctor 
 Kane's disposal, and the national authori- 
 ties co-operated in this final effort in the 
 interests of humanity and science. 
 
 On the thirtieth of INIa}', 1853, Doctor 
 Kane sailed from New^ York, in his stout 
 little craft, the Advance, a brig of about 
 one hundred and fift}' tons, and manned 
 with picked men, among whom were those 
 intrepid spirits, Hayes, Godfrej', ]\IcGary, 
 Bonsall, Morton, and Goodfellow. His 
 plan was to enter Smith Sound at the 
 tojj of Baffin Bay, and thus to reach, if 
 possible, the northerly open sea, which 
 was supposed to exist, and where he hoped 
 to obtain a clue to the missing navigators. 
 Great success attended the expedition dur- 
 ing the first summer. The party reached 
 the headland of Smith Sound as early as 
 August 6th, 1853, when further progress 
 became difficult on account of the great 
 accumulation of ice. The vessel was, how- 
 ever, warped through the pack, and the 
 expedition finally gained the northern face 
 of Greenland, at a point never before 
 reached. Here the ice froze around the 
 vessel, and compelled them to seek a win- 
 ter asylum, in which they experienced s. 
 
536 
 
 OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 degree of cold much below any previous 
 registration. A^'liiskey froze in November, 
 and for four montiis in the year the mer- 
 cury was solid daily. Of course, the ne- 
 cessity of protection against such a temper- 
 ature was critical and unceasing. An 
 observatory was erected, a thermal regis- 
 ter kept hourly, and magnetic observations 
 recorded. 
 
 But, with enterprising forecast, Doctor 
 K'Tue sent out parties, — in the conduct of 
 wliich, Messrs. Brooks, Ohlsen, Petersen, 
 Hickey, and Sontag, were conspicuously 
 useful, — to establish provision depots to 
 the north, to facilitate researches in the 
 spring. Three of these depots were thus 
 provided, tlie most distant being in lati- 
 tude 79° 12 '. These operations, however, 
 
 THE AUVANCK AND KESCUE. 
 
 were arrested by darkness, in November, 
 and the crew prepared to spend one Inin- 
 dred and forf// days without the light of 
 the sun ! The thermometer fell to sixty- 
 seven degrees below zero. Chloroform 
 froze, and chloric ether became solid. Tlie 
 twenty-second of December brought Avith 
 it the midnight of the year; the fingers 
 could not be counted a foot from the eyes. 
 The men kept up tlieir spirits like heroes; 
 but most of the dogs died of diseases of the 
 brain brought on by the depressing influ- 
 ences of the darkness. 
 
 In the ensuing spring the search was 
 commenced, Doctor Kane heading a party 
 in March, along the north coast of Green- 
 land, which was followed until progress 
 became arrested by a stupendous mass of 
 ice rising in lofty grandeur to a height of 
 
 five hundred feet abutting into the sea^ 
 the Great Glacier of Humboldt. Kane's 
 description of this grand spectacle speaks 
 of it, in substance, as a solid glassy wall — 
 its curved face, sixty miles in length from 
 Cape Agassiz to Cape Forbes, vanishing 
 into unknown space at not more than a 
 single day's railroad travel from the Pole. 
 The interior with which it communicated, 
 and from which it issued, was an unsur- 
 veyed ice-ocean, to the eye of boundless 
 dimensions. " It was in full sight," con- 
 tinues Doctor Kane, "the mighty crystal 
 bridge tvltich connects tlie two continents 
 of America and Greenland; for Green- 
 land, however insulated it may ultimately 
 prove to be, is strictly continental. Its 
 least possible axis, measured from Cape 
 Farewell to the line of this glacier, in the 
 neighborhood of the eightieth parallel, 
 gives a length of more than twelve hun- 
 dred miles, or not materially less than tliat 
 of Australia from its northern to its south- 
 ern cape. Imagine now the center of such 
 a continent, occupied through nearly its 
 whole extent by a deep unbroken sea of 
 ice, that gathers perennial increase from 
 the water-shed of vast snow-covered moun- 
 tains and all tlie precipitations of the at- 
 mosphere upon its own surface. Imagine 
 this, moving on like a great glacial river, 
 seeking outlets at every fiord and valley, 
 rolling icy cataracts into tlie Atlantic and 
 Greenland seas, and, having at last reached 
 the northern limit of land that has borne 
 it up, pouring out a mighty frozen torrent 
 into unknown Arctic space." This ingen- 
 ious theory of the Great Glacier is still 
 furtlu^r argued by Doctor Kane, in liis 
 usual intelligent and enthusiastic manner. 
 The glacier in question must be consid- 
 ered, until satisfactory' proof can be fur- 
 nished to the contrary, as the onl}^ obstacle 
 to the insularity of Greenland, or, in other 
 words, the only barrier between Greenland 
 and the Atlantic. It appears, however, to 
 be an effectual barrier to exploration. But 
 in spite of the difficulty of falling bergs, 
 Doctor Kane followed this glacier out to 
 sea, the party rafting themselves across 
 open water spaces upon masses of ice ; in 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 637 
 
 this way the}' succeeded in triiveliiig 
 eighty niik-s along its base, and traced it 
 into a new northern hind. 
 
 But the most memorable achievement 
 of the expedition was the discovery of the 
 opmi polar sea. This great water-course 
 embraced an area of three thousand square 
 miles entirely free from ice. It washed a 
 bold and mountainous coast, which was 
 charted as high as latitude 82^* 30'. This 
 discovery was due to the perseverance of a 
 party in charge of William Morton. From 
 the high point of observation to which this 
 intrepid adventurer attained, not a speck 
 of ice could be seen. " There, from a 
 height of four hundred and eighty feet, 
 which commanded a horizon of almost 
 forty miles, his ears were gladdened with 
 the novel music of dashing waves ; and a 
 surf, breaking in among the rocks at his 
 feet, stayed his further progress." Mor- 
 ton gave to the cape which arrested his 
 progress, the name of Kane, in honor of 
 his commander ; but the latter, with char- 
 acteristic modesty, changed it to Cape 
 Constitution. The land attached to Green- 
 land by ice was named Washington ; and 
 that to the north and west of the channel 
 leading out of Smith Sound, was called 
 Grinnell. 
 
 The second winter was one of great suf- 
 fering — scurvy attacked the party, and at 
 one time every man of the expedition, ex- 
 cept Doctor Kane and Mr. Bonsall, was 
 laid up by that disease. To aggravate 
 their misfortunes, there was a deficiency 
 of fuel, and they were even obliged to 
 adopt the habits of the Esquimaux, and 
 eat raw walrus flesh. To encounter a third 
 winter, would, it was thought, involve the 
 destruction of the party, and of course in 
 no manner advance the search for Frank- 
 lin. Ice-ribbed and solitary, in that vast 
 and cheerless region. Doctor Kane at last 
 concluded that the onl}-- safety of the party 
 lay in an abandonment of the brig and an 
 attempt to escape by crossing the southern 
 ice on sledges, — a conclusion heartily 
 adopted by all the members of the party. 
 
 This was in May, 1855, and the parting 
 scene, as narrated by Doctor Kane, was 
 
 one of peculiar solemnity. A brief memo- 
 rial of the facts leading to the abandon- 
 ment of the brig, was prepared and read 
 by the commajider, after which it was fixed 
 to a stanchion near the gangway, where it 
 would attract the notice of any who might 
 come at a future time. They then went 
 upon deck ; the flags were hoisted and 
 hauled down again ; and the party walked 
 once or twice around the brig, looking at 
 her timbers and exchanging comments 
 ujion the scars which reminded them of 
 every stage of her dismantling. When all 
 hands were ready, they scrambled off over 
 the ice together, and on reaching the place 
 of muster, each man was provided with a 
 woolen underdress and an Esquimaux suit 
 of fur clothing, with boots made by the 
 party themselves — that is, one pair made 
 of canvas faced with Avalrus hide, and 
 another inside made of the cabin Brussels 
 carpet. In addition to this, each carried a 
 ' rue-raddy ' adjusted to fit him comforta- 
 bly, a i^air of socks next his skin, and a 
 pair of large goggles for snow blindiie. s, 
 made Esquimaux fashion by cutting a 
 small slit in a piece of wood. Some of 
 them had gutta percha masks fitting 
 closely to the face. Excluding four sick 
 men, who were unable to move, and Doc- 
 tor Kane, who had to drive the dog-team 
 and serve as common carrier and courier, 
 they numbered twelve men. The routine 
 established consisted of daily prayers both 
 morning and evening, all hands gathering 
 round in a circle and standing uncovered 
 during the short exercise ; regulated 
 hours ; fixed duties and positions at the 
 track lines and on the halt; the cooking 
 to be taken by turns, the captains of the 
 boats alone being excused. Doctor Hayes 
 had charge of the log, and Mr. Sontag of 
 the running survey. To boatswain Brooks 
 was assigned the command of the boats 
 and sledges ; the jiarty under him was mar- 
 shaled at the rue-raddies as a single gang, 
 but the messes were arranged with refer- 
 ence to the two whale-boats, and on com- 
 ing afterward to the open water the crews 
 were distributed in the same way. 
 
 Thus organized, they set out on their 
 
538 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 long and perilous marcli. They spent 
 their first niglit in an inlet in the ice. 
 Sometimes they would sail through creeks 
 of water for many hours ; then would fol- 
 hnv days of weary tracking through alter- 
 nate ice and water, 
 
 During a violent 
 
 ^^ '^C^^ 
 
 storm, they dragged the boats upon a nar- 
 row shelf of ice, and found themselves 
 within a cave which myriads of eider had 
 made their breeding ground. They re- 
 mained tliree days in this crystal retreat, 
 and gathered three tliousand eggs. On 
 tlie eleventh of June, they doubled Cape 
 Dudley Digges, and spent a week at Provi- 
 dence Halt, luxuriating on a dish composed 
 of birds sweeter and juicier than canvas- 
 backs, and a salad made of raw eggs and 
 cochlearia. The keen relish with Avhich 
 the party ate of these unexpected dainties 
 may be judged of, when it is considered 
 that, in arranging for their fare, before 
 starting, provision-bags were made of sail- 
 cloth rendered impervious by coats of tar — 
 into these the bread was i)ressed b}'' beat- 
 ing it to powder with a capstan-bar; and 
 the tallow and pork fat were melted down 
 and poured into other bags to freeze. 
 
 For eighty-four days, the party contin- 
 ued to travel with Iheir l)oats and sledges, 
 enrliiring great privations and narrowly 
 escaping with their lives, until, on the 
 ninth of August, 1855, they reached Uper- 
 navik, a north Danish settlement in Green- 
 land, Jtaviag traveled, hi the open air, thh'- 
 
 teen hundred miles ! ]\Ieanwhile, so great 
 Avas the anxiety felt for the safety of the 
 expedition at home, en account of the long 
 period of time that elapsed without any 
 tidings of them coming to hand, that the 
 United States government dispatched two 
 vessels under command of Captain 
 Hartstene, to their relief, in the spring 
 of 1855; this expedition penetrated 
 as far as 78'' 32', beyond whicli prog- 
 ress was found impossible. On return- 
 ing, they had the good fortune to find 
 Doctor Kane and his party on the 
 Greenland coast, and arrived home 
 Avith them in October. The death of 
 two of his men, Baker and Schubert, 
 Avas to Doctor Kane the saddest fact 
 in the liistory of the expedition. 
 
 Although Doctor Kane's expedition 
 
 failed to accomplish its chief purpose, 
 
 it was not Avithout important results in 
 
 /? / the interests of geographical science, as 
 
 related to that mysterious and Avonder- 
 
 ful region — the Arctic. These results, as 
 
 enumerated b}^ Doctor Kane, Avere, in brief, 
 
 as follows : 
 
 First, the snrA'ey and delineation of the 
 north coast of Greenland, to its termina- 
 tion by a great glacier. Second, the sur- 
 vey of this glacial mass, and its extension 
 northward into the new land named Wash- 
 ington. Third, the discover}^ of a large 
 channel to the north-Avest, free from ice, 
 and leading into an open and expanding 
 area equally free. Fourth, the Avhole em- 
 braces an iceless area of four thousand two 
 hundred miles. Fifth, the discovery and 
 delineation of a large tract of land, form- 
 ing the extension northward of the Amer- 
 ican continent. Sixth, the completed sur- 
 vey of the American coast to the south 
 and Avest as far as Cape Sabine, thus con- 
 necting the survey Avith the last determined 
 position of Captain Inglefield, and complet- 
 ing the circuit of the straits and bay here- 
 tofore knoAvn at their southernmost open- 
 ing as Smith Sound. 
 
 To the above gratifying summary of the 
 laboriously earned results of the expedi- 
 tion, is to be added aiiother honorable item, 
 namely, that it carried tlie stars and stripes 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 539 
 
 of the young republic furtlier nortJi than 
 any other fiiuj had ever been borne. But 
 this, together with the other chronicles 
 and reminiscences of the expedition are 
 related in full by its historian, Doctor 
 Kane, — a deeply interesting work, far ex- 
 ceeding in thrilling incident the works of 
 Defoe and Kiley, and possessing like the 
 narratives of AVilkes, Featherstonaugh, 
 Brackenridge, Marcy, Parker, Hayes, Hall, 
 etc., a permanent value. This work, com- 
 pleted b}' Doctor Kane only a short time 
 preceding his early and lamented demise, 
 is appropriately dedicated '• To Hexry 
 Grixxell, the Author, and Advocate, and 
 Patron of the United States Expedition in 
 Search of Sir John Franklin." 
 
 One of the most heroic journeys of ex- 
 ploration, undertaken in connection with 
 Doctor Kane's great expedition, was that 
 headed by Dr. Isaac J. Hayes, who, with 
 eight adventurous companions, were absent 
 from the Advance from August to Decem- 
 ber. 1854:, As related by that accom- 
 plished traveler and man of science, in his 
 
 them included more than a thousand miles 
 of ice and water. For the first eight days, 
 the party were occupied in dragging their 
 boat — a whale-boat, twenty-four feet long 
 and live and a half feet beam — from the 
 brig to the open water, a distance of about 
 fifteen miles. Having reached the open 
 water, they set out u])on their dangerous 
 navigation. On the second day, they ran 
 into the pack, a dangerous jjosition even 
 for full-sized ships; their onl}' resource 
 to drag the boat and its cargo on to the 
 largest floe they could find, and wait until 
 it was imbedded in a field of ice which 
 was likely, for a time at least, to remain 
 moderately steady. Whilst entangled in 
 the pack, they approached the })lace where 
 Doctor Kane had left an iron life-boat on 
 his passage out. Three of the party, of 
 whom Doctor Hayes was one, set off across 
 the ice to reach the life-boat, and having 
 found it in a little cove on a small island, 
 passed a most dreary night there. Doctor 
 Hayes and one of the men running up and 
 down all night long to avoid freezing. 
 
 VIEW OF THE ARCTIC REGIONS 
 
 wonderful volume, "An Arctic Boat Jour- 
 ney," it appears to have been one of the 
 most extraordinary exhibitions of hardi- 
 hood and endurance ever recorded. 
 
 Starting with stores calculated to last 
 for four or five weeks, the journey before 
 
 And now, barely outliving a terrible storm 
 which overtook them, they reached a point 
 about sixteen miles south of Cape Parrj-, 
 and probably more than two hundred 
 south of Rensselaer Harbor, where were 
 
 Doctor Kane and the brig. DiflQculties 
 
540 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 beset them at every step. For example, on 
 one occasion, whilst the rest of the part}' 
 were sleeping, one of them was deputed to 
 cook in a small tent erected for the purpose. 
 The cooking apparatus consisted of a lamp 
 over which a kettle was boiled. The party 
 had tasted nothing for eighteen hours, and 
 it took no less than six more to jorepare a 
 stew of fox and sea-gull, for the lamp was 
 constantly blown out just as the pot was 
 beginning to boil, and before it could be 
 relighted — which operation with damp tin- 
 der and a flint and steel once occupied half 
 an hour — the stew was frozen over. 
 
 The prospects of Doctor Hayes's party, 
 when their hopes of getting further south 
 were finally abandoned, were excessively 
 gloomy. They had the winter before them, 
 and their jirovisions and fuel were barely 
 sufficient for two weeks ; whilst the fuel, 
 though capable of cooking their food and 
 melting the ice for water, was not suffi- 
 cient to warm the men themselves. Their 
 first necessity was to provide themselves 
 with some sort of shelter, and the only one 
 which they could procure was a kind of 
 hut, of which two rocks formed two sides, 
 and the other sides were made of walls of 
 stones, the crevices being stuffed with 
 moss and sand, both of which had to be 
 obtained from under the snow, by shovel- 
 ing with a tin dinner-})late. It was the 
 work of some weeks. But there was now 
 only a scanty allowance of food, and the 
 party grew thin and weak. They suc- 
 ceeded in trapping two or three foxes, and 
 they were obliged to eke out their small 
 stock of provisions by eating rock lichen. 
 The only additional resource which the 
 party had to look to was that of occasionally 
 obtaining provisions from the Esquimaux 
 who casually visited them, and sometimes 
 sold them lumps of walrus meat, or sea- 
 fowls, in return for pieces of wood. By 
 degrees, however, the savages came to un- 
 derstand their true position. They saw that 
 the white men were starving, and that upon 
 their death their property would be left be- 
 hind them without the necessity for any 
 purchase. The}', therefore, refused to sell 
 any dogs, or to undertake, though pressed 
 
 to do so, to convey the party in dog-sledges 
 either to Doctor Kane or to Upernavik. 
 
 This state of things at last became un- 
 bearable, and Doctor Hayes, with charac- 
 teristic courage, determined on i desperate 
 effort to save the lives of himself and his 
 companions. Having with great difficulty 
 procured some dogs and contrived a sledge, 
 they set out, but after a journey of a few 
 miles, most of them were so exhausted, 
 that they could progress no farther. On 
 returning, two of the part}', after a short 
 rest, set out again, and reached the vessel 
 in safety. The remainder staid behind, 
 in hopes of their return, but soon after a 
 large party of Esquimaux with several 
 sledges and teams of dogs came to visit 
 them, and again refused either to sell or to 
 lend the means of conveyance. 
 
 The opportunity which this visit offered 
 could not, however, be neglected. They 
 were coaxed into good humor by jokes and 
 presents, and a pot of soup was prepared 
 for them, into which Doctor Hayes emp- 
 tied a vial of laudanum. Whilst they 
 were asleep, the party went out, loaded 
 the sledges, harnessed the dogs, and set 
 off at full gallop towards the brig ! 
 
 The dogs, however, being but little better 
 than wolves, were very wild and extremely 
 restive, so that one team fairly broke loose, 
 and carried the sledge back to the hut. 
 The others, however, passed over a consid- 
 erable part of the journey towards the brig 
 before the Esquimaux recovered from the 
 effects of the laudanum and pursued them. 
 
 At last, however, they were overtaken! 
 Thereupon, relying on their guns, and on 
 the influence which their moral and intel- 
 lectual power confers upon civilized men, 
 Doctor Hayes and his party declared that 
 they muat and u-onid return to the brig, 
 and that the Esquimaux must take them. 
 Ultimately they succeeded; and, after a 
 frightful journey, during which they trav- 
 eled one hundred and fifty miles in forty 
 hours in a temperature of forty-eight de- 
 grees below zero, they reached the brig in 
 safety. The Esquimaux were well re- 
 warded for their services, and went back 
 in high spirits. 
 
LXIII. 
 
 BRILLIANT MUSICAL TOUR OF JENNY LIND, THE 
 " SWEDISH NIGHTINGALE."— 1850. 
 
 This Queen of Song Comes under the Auspices of Mr. Barnum. — Twenty Thousand Persons Welcome 
 Her Arrival.— Transcendent Heauty 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 Regiment."— 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. — bhe is a Guest at tlie White 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 Boft, 60 clear, yet in so sweet a note. 
 It seemed the music melted in her spirit." 
 
 ,-^A 
 
 EALOUSLY watching, with a practiced professional eye, every opportu- 
 nity to cater to the ever- varying 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 witli him to visit the United States, on a prolonged musical tour, 
 under his managing auspices; and tliis enterprising design, the accom- 
 jdished 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 
 outl)urst 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 personal 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 year. 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 
 
542 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 calamity, 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 Diahle 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 Lind, 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 returned with all its pristine 
 sweetness, and with more than its early 
 l>ower, and the most overwhelming ap- 
 plause followed the unexpected discovery 
 of this mine of melody. 
 
 All doubt as to her lyrical excellence 
 was 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 Frieschufz. Her exquisite 
 singing, and her acting, abounding in 
 point and originality, created a deep sen- 
 sation ; and she won new laurels by her 
 representation of Alice, in the spring of 
 
 1839, and fully estal)lished her fame by 
 her subsequent performance of Lucia, in 
 Lucia dl Lammennoor. 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 
 was, at first, rather discouraging. After 
 hearing her sing, he said — 
 
 "My dear young lad}-, you have no 
 
 voice ; ^'ou have Jiad 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 you — I cannot give j-ou 
 any hope at present. Sing not a note for 
 three months, and then see me again." 
 
 This counsel she followed, and when 
 she re-appeared before Garcia, he thought 
 there was some hope of her, and gave her 
 the instructions which she coveted ; but it 
 is remarkalde 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, Avhere the per- 
 formance of Jenny Lind so gratified the 
 composer, that he at once offered her an 
 engagement at Berlin. 
 
 At the close of 1842, she returned to 
 Stockholm, where her popularity contin- 
 ued to increase. Her fame, however, 
 extending be^'ond the limits of Sweden, 
 she was induced to make a professional 
 visit to German}^, 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 ajipro- 
 priated by Shakespeare to one of his beau- 
 tiful creations — "She sings like one iuniinr- 
 iaV — became fact, applied to the Swedish 
 nightingale. Her Majest^y'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 iheir prep- 
 aration. The delicious quality of the per- 
 formance — the rich, gushing notes, were 
 something entirely new and fresh. The 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 543 
 
 auditors did not know wliat to make of it. 
 They had ht-ard singers over and over 
 again; but there — tliat wondrous tiling! 
 — a new sensation was actiially 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 iii Vienna, 
 the most exacting critics applauded her 
 performance of The Daurjhter of the Rcg- 
 inf.nf^ 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 oj)era, 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 3'oung 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 })if(h, the 
 public enthusiasm, and on the time arriv- 
 ing fur the sale of tickets for the next day, 
 the place was densely crowded. This 
 state of things continued to increase, until 
 about eleven o'cldck, when the multitude 
 was such that the police interfered, and 
 made the people form en qunie. 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 proved 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 as 
 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 Copenhageners the greatest 
 enjoyment they ever had. At one concert 
 
544 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 she sang lier Swedish songs. They were 
 so peculiar and so bewitcliing, that, uttered 
 by such a purelj'- feminine being, tlieir 
 sway was absolutely enrapturing. Her 
 singing was a new revelation in the realm 
 of art. The fresh 3'oung 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 Axilla, 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 opera, her advent 
 marked a new and striking epoch. She 
 showed the art in all its sanctity. 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 3'et you do not know her in her real 
 greatness. Speak to her of her art, and 
 you will wonder at the expansion 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 
 there 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 
 23rices." Such a performance was given, 
 and returned large proceeds. When she 
 heard the amount, her countenance lit uj), 
 and tears filled her eyes. "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 Avho 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 Jennv 
 Lind, to give a series of concerts in the 
 United States. The proposals made l)y 
 Mr. Barnum were so generous, and char- 
 acterized by such delicate and gentlemanly 
 consideration, in every respect, that, not- 
 withstanding several jiarties were likewise 
 attempting, at the same time, to negotiate 
 Avith her for an American tour, she uidies- 
 itatingly decided to treat with ]\Ir. Bar- 
 num, wh.o 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 more than 
 sevr7i Jn/juh'ed thousand dollars in total 
 receipts, — was a monument alike to liis 
 genius and to his superlative executive 
 
GREAT AND MEjMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 545 
 
 .abilities ; — ^a statement-, tlie truth of wliicli 
 will be found ubundantly conlirnied iu the 
 liistory of tins enterprise, as written by- 
 Mr. Uarnuni hiuiself, and from which 
 some of the facts and incidents given below 
 are collated. 
 
 On Wednesday morning, August twenty- 
 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 wpnld 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 : 
 
 '? " 
 
 " I never had the pleasure of seeing you 
 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 INIr. Barnum, 
 " on 3'our 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, 
 ■v\^as inscribed, " Welcome, Jenny Lind ! " 
 and the other, surmounted by the Ameri- 
 3.5 
 
 can eagle, bore the inscription, " Welcome 
 to America ! ^^ Jenny Lind was escorted 
 to JNIr. 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, JNIr. 
 Barnum directed him to the Irving Hcuse. 
 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 windoAvs and sidewalks along the 
 whole route in coming to the conclusion 
 that Jennij Lind laid arrived ; and a ref- 
 erence to the journals of that day wiil 
 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 Broadwaj^ 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 
 
546 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 by visitors, including the magnates of the 
 land, both in church and state, and the 
 carriages of the bemi monde were to be 
 seen i-n front of her hotel, at all fashiona- 
 ble hours. Presents of all sorts were 
 showered upon her. Milliners, mantua- 
 niakers, 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 glimj)se 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 lami:> 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 
 tlie world. As Mr. Benedict led her 
 towards the foot-lights, the entire audience 
 rose to their feet and welcomed her with 
 three cheers, accompanied by the Avaving 
 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 cavatlna, 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 p)roceeds of the con- 
 cert were to go to charitable objects, it 
 seemed as though the audience would go 
 frantic with applause. 
 
 From New York, Jenny Lind went to 
 Boston, Providence, Philadelphia, Balti- 
 more, Washington, — to all the chief cities 
 in the Union, east, west, north, and south ; 
 vast audiences everywhere 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, by 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 
 
GREAT AND I^IEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 54' 
 
 I enny 
 -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 
 I)luniage 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 ; th.en, 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, 
 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 outcaroled the 
 " Swedish nightingale." 
 Jenny Lind's generosity was unbounded. 
 
 To say nothing oi 
 numerous heavy bene- 
 factions to societies and individuals, — 
 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-office, 
 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, \cith viy 
 best ro7npli.ments." 
 
 While in the same city, a poor Swedish 
 girl, a domestic in a family at Roxbury, 
 called on Jenn3% 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 Rox- 
 
548 
 
 OUE FIKST CENT UK Y.— 1776-1876. 
 
 bury in a carriage at the close of the per- 
 formance. Doubtless the poor girl carried 
 with her substantial evidences of her 
 countrywoman'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 da}', and 
 subsequently, by presidential request, 
 passed an evening at the White House, 
 in the private circle of the president's 
 family. 
 
 Both concerts in Washington were 
 attended by the president and his family, 
 and every member of the cabinet. It hap- 
 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 party so 
 late that the concert had progressed quite 
 far when Webster, Crittenden, and others, 
 came in. Whether from the htirry 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 by Jenny 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 say 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 l)ow 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. C]aj. 
 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 played to 
 its close. And now burst out a long and 
 loud shout of apjilause. For a moment, 
 Benedict, the conductor, looked around, 
 somewhat astonished. He, however, saw 
 immediately that this ap^^lause had not 
 been called forth by the orchestra. The 
 tall, slim, thin figure of an aged niaxi — 
 with a grayish blue eye, vivid and spark- 
 ling, and a capacious, broad mouth — was 
 slowly advancing tip the room. It was 
 Henry Clay. As he moved on, the shouts 
 and applause redoubled. He, bowing on 
 every side, continued his path feeblj'^, and 
 somewhat cautiously. At length he 
 reached his seat, and the ajiplause 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. 
 Cla}', 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 countiy, 
 and who played several times in her Amer- 
 
GREAT AlsD MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 
 
 549 
 
 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, wlio 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- 
 chalk, 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 ; 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 ive go to heaven, ^vliere, and 
 where alone, such music can he heardP 
 
LXIY. 
 
 EEIGN OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE IN CALI- 
 FORNIA.— 1851. 
 
 Revolution in the Administration of Justice. — Powerlessness and Indifference of the Eegular Authori- 
 ties — Robbery, Arson, and Murder, Alarmingly Prevalent. — The Committee's Secret Ciiamber 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. — Kngland'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 — Tlie 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. 
 
 " We are determined thnt no thief, burglar, incendiary, assassin, ballot-box Bluffer, or other diiturbcr of the neacp, shall escnpe punish- 
 ment either by the quibbles of the law, the insecurity of prisons, the carelessness or corruption of liie police, or a laxity of tho-e who pretend 
 to administer justice."— Addeess of tub Vigilance Comuittbe. 
 
 "IGILANCE committees, and "lynch law," are terms of similar and famil- 
 iar meaning, in the American vocabulary. But nowhere else 
 within the borders of the great rej^ublic has the operation of this 
 summary method of dealing with offenders who would otherwise 
 go " unwhipped of justice," been so resolute, so frequent, and so 
 effective, as in California. Nor, perhaps, has it ever been more 
 excusable, as an extreme public necessity. Such was the 
 unsettled condition of society in that remote territory, 
 during the earlier years of its mining histor}', so multi- 
 1)1 ied and daring the crimes against life and property, 
 and so inefficient as well as glaringly corrupt, the courts 
 and judges, that, for a time, robbery, murder, arson, and 
 violence were completely in the ascendant, so that every 
 man not actually in league Nvith the perpetrators 
 of these outrages, was put on the defensive, — car- 
 r^-ing his weapons by da}', 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-quarter.s, and assumed 
 the name of " hoic7ids." They swarmed the 
 city and the country, and, in their skilled arts 
 of villainy, as thieves, pickpockets, gamblers, 
 incendiaries, and assassins, numbered their 
 victims by hundreds. In addition to this, 
 
 DOUBLE EXECUTIOX IN SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 551 
 
 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 wi'ongs being re- 
 dressed by a jiowerful 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 tlie lives and prop- 
 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 faithfull}'^ and j^roperly 
 administered, — but determined that no 
 thief, burglar, incendiary, or assassin, es- 
 cape punishment, either by the quibbles of 
 the laiv, the insecurity of prisons, the care- 
 lessness or corruption of the police, or a 
 laxity on the part of those pretending to 
 administer justice r 
 
 The first, and one of the most exciting 
 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 members 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 pre-arranged signal, 
 to give notice of the proceedings going on. 
 
 Though 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 bi'oad 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. Tliis teas at one o'v.loch, 
 midnight. 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 '■^ DonH hang hhn 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 
 
552 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 j^lace in San Francisco, where 
 more crime had been committed during 
 the year past than in any other city of the 
 same poj^ulation in the Union, without 
 one single instance of adequate punish- 
 ment. Of the guilt of Jenkins there was 
 no doubt. He had long been kn^own to 
 the police as a desperate character from 
 the English penal colonies, where he had 
 passed many years as a transported con- 
 
 8EAL OF THE CALIFOKMA VIGILANCE 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 liis own 
 confession, had committed almost every 
 known crime and outrage. He was delib- 
 erately tried on various charges by the 
 vigilance committee, found guilty, and 
 sentenced to be hung, all of which he ac- 
 knowledged to be just. At nine o'clock in 
 the morning, July 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, princii^ally 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 ; wy sentence is Jusf.^' 
 The rope was pulled, and in a moment he 
 was swinging in the air. As he went up, 
 he closed his e^^'es 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, aj^pcared 
 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 symj^toms of approaching death. 
 After hanging about five minutes, his hat 
 blow off, and exposed to view the ghastly 
 features of the murderer and robber. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 553 
 
 WliLMi he had Imng about twenty minutes, 
 he was cut down by the coroner. There 
 was no attempt at a rescue, and every tiling 
 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- 
 ing, 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 impunit}' of the criminal, 
 and to baffle the working of the law — 
 that the burning (f San Francisco was 
 several times resolved upon in revenge — 
 and that life was 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 
 Avitnessed, 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 li.aheas corpus, which was handed 
 to Sheriff Hayes, commanding him to take 
 the bodies of Whittaker and McKenzie, 
 and bring them into court, to be dealt with 
 according to law. 
 
 Colonel Hayes and some of his deputies 
 immediately rei)aired 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 treacher^^, 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- 
 in cr 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. T]te se- 
 quel was yet to come. 
 
 It was about half-past two o'clock on 
 Sunday afternoon, August 24th, that the 
 bell of the M(mumental Engine Company 
 commenced tolling in a very rapid manner, 
 and the news soon spread like wildfire, 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 Avere 
 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 
 
554 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 rush made, and Captain Lambert thrown 
 upon tlie ground and held. The prisoners 
 Avere 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 resisted 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 sjiot 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 ]?attery street, 
 above which projected timbers and pulleys, 
 such as are used in store-lofts for the pur- 
 pose of hoisting good^ 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 Avas 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 
 graj'-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 heref'' ensued, and the tumult 
 each moment grew greater. '■'■ We hare 
 them — nexjer fear — it is all right^'' re- 
 sponded the committee ; and a thundering 
 shout of wild congratulation went uj) 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 through the 
 block, and reti;rned 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 i)risoners from the jail, 
 conveying them to the rooms, and com- 
 pleting the j)reliminaries of their execu- 
 tion. The great, dense, agitated crowd 
 that covered the roofs, and clung b\' doz- 
 ens to the sides of all the adjoining houses, 
 and packed the streets, darkened the walls, 
 and lilled the rigging and boats along the 
 docks, presented an awful and imposing 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 555 
 
 EXECUTIONS 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 Avas 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, tlie 
 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 
 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 ujion 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. Whittaker 
 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 examjjles 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 
 
556 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 — 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 
 struccsle 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 Avith 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 
 resj^ected 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 people 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 tlie foui'teeuth 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 offii-c; in San Francisco by 
 fraud. Casey called on King for satisfac- 
 tion, failing to obtain which, ho at once 
 watched for him on the street, and, at five 
 o'clock on the evening of the same day, 
 the two met in publio,. With hardly a 
 word of warning — giving his victim no 
 tune for defense, — Casey drew a revolver, 
 and shot Mr. King through the left breast. 
 Tlie latter lingered for a few days and 
 died on the 20th. 
 
 The murder was followed by the arrest 
 of Casey, and he was conveyed to jail 
 amidst intense jwpular excitement, his 
 immediate execution being demanded by 
 the infuriated multitude. A party of men, 
 numbering several hundred, got together, 
 armed themselves, put several small can- 
 non on drays, and were on the j)oiiit 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 imj^erative. A horde of mur- 
 derers and other notoriously bad men had 
 collected in the city, 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 the}' 
 sat in almost constant session secretly. 
 About twenty-five hundred members, old 
 and new, were admitted, these binding 
 themselves to obey a committee of fifty, 
 who alone knew what was to be done. 
 
 On the following Sunday morning, the 
 committee were ordered to assemble, and 
 be 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 Avas 
 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 557 
 
 their arms, bells -were tolled, aiul Hags 
 were displayed at half-mast. Meanwhile, 
 Casey and Cora's crimes had been adjudged 
 worthy of deatli, and, notwithstanding the 
 great gathering at the funeral, the rooms 
 of the committee were surrounded by about 
 twent}' 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- 
 cinity 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 affected 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 
 Avas given, the cord that held uj) tlie 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 lino, 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 societ}^, — 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 tlie 
 ground that there was no security for life 
 or property either under the regulations of 
 society, as then existing, or under the laws 
 as then administered. 
 
LXY. 
 
 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 tiie Match. — Universal Astonisliment at the Result. — Admiration Elicited by the 
 " America's" Beautiful Model and Ingenious Rig — Scenes at tlie " World's Exliibition " at London — 
 Grand Finale Yet to Come Off — Cliampionship of the Sea. — England Sensitive on tliis 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 "Bellying" 
 of Canvas — Annzing Increase of Speed. — All Rivals Passed, One by One. — They Return in 
 Despair. — Great Odds for the America. — Is Visited by Queen Victoria. 
 
 On every side was heard the hail, "Is the America first?"— The answer, " Yes 1 "—" What's second ?"— The reply,'*NoTniNOl"— Lou- 
 Do.-v Times. 
 
 RATIFYING, in the highest degree, to the pride of every American, was the 
 announcement that, in the great and exciting international yacht 
 race, — wliicli formed, in an important sense, the r/ravd 
 finale oi tlie " Exhibition of the Industrj- of All 
 Nations," held in London, in 1851, — the victory had 
 been won by the clipper yacht America, of one 
 Imndred and seventy tons, built by Mr. George 
 Steers, of Brooklyn, N. Y., and commanded by 
 Commodore John C. Stevens, also of New York. 
 Tlie prize was no less tlian "TAe Cvjy of all Na- 
 tions.''^ 
 
 Making but an indifferent show of contributions 
 to the various departments of art, science, and 
 manufactures, at tliat 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 supremac}', 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- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 559 
 
 try, and of England in jiarticular, — the 
 high chiinis put forth by tho hitter being 
 well understood. 
 
 How happily it was reserved for the 
 United States to take this 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 iday and 
 manly achnoivledgmcnt of a fair heat 
 ivere 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 peerage and gentry left their 
 residences and forsook their usual diver- 
 sions, to Avitness 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 aristocracy, 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 witli the least pre- 
 tensions to match the efforts of White, 
 C-imper, Ratsey, and otber eminent build- 
 ers ; and in the pages of the Yacht List 
 for that very year (1851), there was an 
 assertion which ever}'^ man within sight of 
 sea water from the Cl3'de to the Solent 
 would swear to, namely, that " yacht build- 
 ing was an art in which England was 
 unriv^aled, and that she was distinguished 
 pre-eminently 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 yachts 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 talk 
 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 yacht club. And 
 now, to the master hand and brain of that 
 accomplished architect, Geokge 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 offer was so great, in assuming 
 all risk, and the vessel in fact proved her- 
 self so fast, that several gentlemen, the 
 commodore at the head, determined to buy 
 
560 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 
 
 OliOliGi:: STEEKS. 
 
 Portsmouth offered every assistance and 
 civility. The Earl of Wilton, and the 
 veteran jMarquis 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. I>ut here again the 
 English admiral, with an intuitive percep- 
 tion of the difficulty — of which no men- 
 
 tion, nevertheless, had ever been made to 
 him — 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 da}' 
 appointed for this race. Upwards of one 
 hundred j'achts 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 prei)ar- 
 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 561 
 
 large cutter in beating up to windward 
 and in tacking ; while more were of the 
 opinion that the America would carry oft" 
 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 batter}', 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 Ryde, 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 
 a 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 
 36 
 
 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 on 
 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-sta^'sail and jib ; 
 while her competitors had every cloth set 
 that the club regulations allowed. S/ie 
 soon began to creep iipon 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 way, and passed ahead of the 
 Constance and Beatrice. Another puff 
 came, and she made a dart to pass the 
 Gipsej^ 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 Osborne- 
 house, 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 ; 
 
562 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 tlie green hills of Hampshire, 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 tlien the sprightly cutter must give 
 wa}', 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 fi'om 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. 
 
 •vrind 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 
 Xorman's Land buoy ; the other six were 
 staggering about in the rear, and tlie 
 Wyvern soon afterwards hauled her wind, 
 and went back towards Cowes. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 563 
 
 At this point, the wind blew somewliat 
 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 point 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 twenty-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. This 
 tvus 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 Shanklin 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 
 
564 
 
 OUR FIRST CE:J^TUE,Y.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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, being 
 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 jib of 
 greater consequence to the America. 
 
 " CUP OF ALL NATIONS," WON BY THE 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 windwfi-d. Her superiority was so 
 decided that several of the yachts xvore, 
 and went hack again to Coives 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 yachts, 
 some hull down, some dipped 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 
 Rocken-end, and thus having a tolerably 
 fair course from the south to north-west, 
 ujD 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 Rocken-end, a fine 
 cutter with a jib and foresail together — 
 y"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 liglit breeze all in her favor. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 565 
 
 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 
 b}'^ the appearance of the America hauling 
 her wind round the cliff, at 5:50. The 
 breeze fell dead under the shore, and the 
 America lowered out her foresail and fore- 
 sta^'sail 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 instantl}'^ 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 ver}' 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 royal yacht, having run close by the 
 America under half-steam for a short dis- 
 tance, went on towards Osborne. Off 
 Cowes were innumerable 3'achts, and on 
 every side was heard the hail, "Is the 
 America first ?^^ — The answer, "Yes" 
 "What's second?"— The reply, " Noth- 
 ing :' 
 
 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,' Avhich 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 j^resence to 
 compliment him on the success of his 
 countrymen ; 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 
 
566 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the America, the national colors of that 
 vessel were dipped, out of respect to her 
 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 officers 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 model, 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 w^as, in steering, 
 but little impediment ojij^osed to her pas- 
 sage through the water ; the great draught 
 of her water aft, eleven feet four inches, 
 Avith 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 cif keel, — two feet two 
 inches amidships. The copper was placed 
 upon her bottom with gi'eat 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 bell3'ing 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. 
 
LXYI. 
 
 FRIGHTFUL CATASTROPHE IN A NEW YORK FIVE- 
 STORY PUBLIC SCHOOL-HOUSE CONTAINING 
 
 1,800 PUPILS.— 1851. 
 
 Panic Caused by a Call for " Water." — Furious Rush of the Little Ones Throughout the Vast BuiUling, 
 to Escape tlie Supposed Fire. — Tlie Stair Railing Breaks, and they are Precipitated to the Bottom, in 
 Helpless Agony. — Nearly Fifty Children, in Their Beauty and Innocence, Suffocated to Death. — Hun- 
 dreds of Families in Mourning. — Slight Source of all this Horror. — Sudden Illness of a Teacher. — 
 Cries of " Help !" for Her. — Heard in the Other Rooms — Fatal Misappreliension. — Instant and Awful 
 Fright. — Vain Attempts to Escape — They all Pour Forth at Once. — The Street Door Locked! — 
 Bewildered Crowds — Their Headlong Descent. — A Pile of Bodies, Fourteen Feet Square. — Their 
 Sighs and Writhings. — Arrival of the Firemen — Entrance Effected by Them. — Thousands Waiting 
 Outside — Indescribable Excitement. — Anguish of Parents. — Rescuing the Sufferers. — Scenes Among 
 the Little Ones. — Sweet and Tender Devotion — Burial of the Innocents. 
 
 'when Vife is old. 
 
 And many a scene forgot, the heart will hold 
 Its memory of this." 
 
 ^^:?& 
 
 m 
 
 ^^^^^^^■^m^^g^^'^pESSGISrS and examples of wholesale casualty, almost 
 
 without number, and of appalling character, checker 
 ^ ■'SF^^ ^^^^ history of a hundred years, showing the uncer- 
 tainty of even the most forecasting prudence and judg- 
 ment, and illustrating, with frightful impressiveness, the precarious tenure 
 of human life. But seldom, if ever before — be it gratefully said — has such 
 a calamity as the one now to be narrated befallen any community ; sel- 
 dom, if ever before, in modern times, has there been realized to the actual 
 experience of so many hearts and homes, the anguish of those oft-repeated 
 words, " tJie slaughter of the innocents,^^ of which, sages, poets, and 
 divines have discoursed, through the long lapse of ages. 
 
 It was about two o'clock in the afternoon of Thursday, November 20, 
 1851, that the city of New York was agitated by the report of a most 
 dreadful catastrophe at Ward School No. 26, in Greenwich avenue, near 
 Jefferson market. At first, by a singular reversion of the usual form of rumor, not 
 half the truth was told ; it was reported down town that the stairs of the school-house 
 had given way and that a dozen children were killed. This was enough to startle all 
 the residents of that section of the city who were away from home, and all sorts of vehi- 
 cles were at once summoned to convey them to the scene of the disaster. Tlie building 
 was a lofty, four-story brick and stone structure, having a basement, on a level with the 
 
568 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 street, paved with flag-stones, and which 
 constituted the play-room of the scholars. 
 The primary department occupied the sec- 
 ond floor ; the third floor was used by the 
 more advanced scholars ; and the front 
 served as a lecture-room and for school 
 examinations. 
 
 The slight cause from which flowed this 
 great stream of horror, agony, and death, 
 appears to have been that Miss Harrison, 
 principal of the female department, had 
 been slightly indisposed for a few days, 
 but still considered herself equal to going 
 on with her arduous duties. But, on this 
 afternoon, while hearing the recitations of 
 a large class, in a room in the rear of the 
 third story, she was attacked with a mo- 
 mentary paralysis of the tongue ; she tried 
 to speak, but only made an unintelligible 
 noise. In her effort to articulate, her face 
 was drawn into disagreeable contortions, 
 which alarmed her pupils, who, supposing 
 she had fainted, rushed to the door open- 
 ing into the large room adjacent, and which 
 was occupied by several hundred pupils, 
 and screamed for "water." The children 
 in that room, supposing the water was 
 wanted to put out a fire, sprang towards 
 the outer door in a mass, crying "/'7?'«/" 
 ^^Fire!" with frightful energy. This 
 cry attracted the attention of Miss Whit- 
 ney, principal of the primary department, 
 on the second floor, who opened the door 
 to see what was the matter, — doing which, 
 so contagious was the terror, she was in- 
 stantly swept by the hurrying mass of 
 pupils behind her into the hall, eddied 
 into the current descending from the story 
 above, and carried, against all her powers 
 of resistance, down to the bottom of the 
 steps at tlie basement ; and she had 
 scarcely been there two seconds before 
 the railing by the side of the stairs began 
 to give way. After Miss Whitney had 
 been tluis forced from the primary school, 
 the children, en masse, took the alarm, and 
 forced their way from the various apart- 
 ments. 
 
 And now a scene of the most horrible 
 description presented itself, one which no 
 imagination can adequately conceive nor 
 
 language describe. The children came 
 rushing impetuously down the stairs in 
 constantly accumulating throngs, until the 
 stairway was choked uj? ; the outer door 
 communicating with the street being 
 locked, according to custom, during school 
 hours. The balusters which guard the 
 staircase became broken by the pressure, 
 first near the bottom, and then the adja- 
 cent rails, being proportionably weakened, 
 gave way from step to step, and stair to 
 stair, and were precipitated with the poor 
 distracted, struggling, and half-gasping 
 creatures who were crushed against them 
 headlong into the pit beneath, already 
 crowded to suffocation with those who had 
 been first to reach the bottom of the stairs, 
 in their — alas ! — vain attempt to escape to 
 the street. Unappalled by the spectacle 
 before them, the children from above — 
 tliere tvere one thousand eight hundred and 
 fifty-one in the huildinrj, precisely the 
 number of years since the birth of Him 
 who first proclaimed to " these little ones," 
 that ''of such is the kingdom of heaven" 
 — still came pouring down from above, 
 crowding those before them off the stair- 
 case into the area below, which was rapidly 
 filling with the bodies of the wounded, the 
 suffocating, the dying, and the dead. 
 Many of them struck their heads against 
 the rough corners of the steps as they fell, 
 — the stairway leading by a series of short 
 stairs and landings to the top of the build- 
 ing, making a riglit-angled instead of a 
 spiral staircase, and forming a sort of well, 
 about ten feet square, from the roof to the 
 basement floor. 
 
 The sight of all these horrors seemed 
 only to aggravate the terrors and despera- 
 tion of those who witnessed them ; and 
 before any check could be given to the 
 furious tide of panic-stricken little ones 
 and the accompanying flood of agony and 
 death, the well or area was in two minutes 
 filled with human bodies, one on top of the 
 other, from the basement to the third step 
 of the stairs rising from the second floor. 
 Tliere lay full fourteen square feet of lit- 
 tle bodies, writhing, struggling, shrieking, 
 pei'ishing with bruises and suffocation, 
 
GREAT AND JVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 569 
 
 lohich only a few viinutes before were 
 animated by childhood's cheerful and 
 happy hearts ! 
 
 But there was more than one gate of 
 death, through which these hapless inno- 
 cents were doomed to pass. Many, find- 
 ing their escape through the front door 
 cut off, tried to escape by the back way, 
 where also, by suffocation, death followed. 
 Others leaped from the windows and were 
 dangerously wounded. An alarm soon 
 spread through the streets that the school- 
 house was on fire, — the fire bell rang out 
 its ominous peals, — and an engine com- 
 pany was promptly on the spot, with a 
 large body of police. The front door was 
 opened, and there was presented to their 
 
 open window, urging him to jump to the 
 pavement, and calling to some person 
 to '* catch brother Tommy." ^' JumjJ, 
 Tommy,''' said he, "jump, and Pll juviji, 
 too!" A gentleman, looking up, had 
 just time to raise his hands and make an 
 effort to catch the boy as he leaped from 
 the window. Fortunately, he succeeded 
 in catching him, and then his brother fol- 
 lowed, whom he also caught. 
 
 Such an example, once set, had ready 
 followers, and so the little fellows, to the 
 number of twenty, were thus caught as 
 they jumped. They probably would, un- 
 frightened, have hesitated to jump one- 
 quarter of the distance; but, almost terri- 
 fied to death, they thought not of the dan- 
 
 SCHOOL-HOUSE OH GKKE^WICH AVENUK, N. V., THE SCEKE OF THE AWFUL PANIC. 
 
 eyes the avalanche of sighing, screeching, 
 terror-stricken humanity, and the yawn- 
 ing sepulchre of the multitude now stifled 
 in death. As it was impossible, however, 
 to get up the stairway until the bodies 
 were removed, as many as could assist at 
 this sad office proceeded to convey the 
 wounded and the dead to the station-house 
 near by. 
 
 Under this fatal impression that a fire 
 had occurred, and might be raging in some 
 part of the building, others of the firemen 
 fixed their ladders to the walls and strove 
 to effect an admission to the windows. 
 Even here they were met by the inmates 
 striving to make a desperate escape to the 
 street. Their attention was at once at- 
 tracted to a small boy, who, holding a 
 younger brother by the hand, stood in an 
 
 ger before, in their distracted desire to 
 escape the awful abyss behind them, into 
 which so many of their classmates had 
 been driven. But one of the nineteen or 
 twenty thus liberated uttered a single 
 word as he was placed in safety. One, as 
 he was caught, exclaimed " good bye," and 
 started for home. When, at last, order 
 was restored, and the children up stairs 
 were released, there was upon every face 
 that passed out of the building an almost 
 unearthly look — a wild, bewildered stare, 
 as though they had been wrested from the 
 very jaws of death. 
 
 Many of the children who were taken 
 out alive were badly injured, and numbers 
 of others were taken out quite dead, some 
 from the effects of the fall, and some from 
 suffocation. About forty were at once 
 
670 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 taken from the mass quite dead, and some 
 others died immediately after being re- 
 leased. The news spread like wildfire 
 throughout the whole neighborhood — thou- 
 sands of persons rushed to the spot — and 
 mothers and fathers, frantic with grief, 
 ran wildly from place to place, to find their 
 children. One beautiful but frantic young 
 mother was seen looking up to heaven in 
 despair, and crying " My ddld! my c.liild! " 
 as she stood before the fair form and most 
 lovely countenance of her little boy of 
 seven sweet summers, now cold in death. 
 
 At the station-house, the sight was truly 
 appalling. Mothers were rushing in b}^ 
 scores and hundreds, wringing their hands, 
 and calling their children by name, and 
 when one was recognized among the dead, 
 the mother's anguish gave vent, in many 
 instances, to the most piercing and irre- 
 pressible cries. One })Oor woman went 
 into the station, and, after running about 
 wildly from place to place, found two of 
 her children dead ; her shrieks and lamen- 
 tations were the most piteous that human 
 ears ever listened to. Even the stern 
 bearing of a father gave way, in mournful 
 demonstrations, to the anguish of his 
 heart, on beholding, as was the case in 
 several instances, his only child a corpse. 
 The officers, too, and the reporters for the 
 press, who were present, were far from 
 being unconcerned witnesses of the melan- 
 choly' scene ; few if any dry eyes, indeed, 
 were there visible. 
 
 During the height of the excitement, 
 thousands upon thousands of people col- 
 lected in the neighborhood of the building, 
 all intensely agitated, and wrought up to 
 the highest pitch of apprehension. The 
 mayor, the chief of police, the recorder, 
 judges, police captains, and all the promi- 
 nent officers and citizens in that part of 
 the city, were on hand at the earliest mo- 
 ment, rendering the most efficient service. 
 A number of physicians were also promptly 
 in attendance, to render such professional 
 aid as could be made available; but, un- 
 haj)pily, that was not much. Almost all 
 th(> dead were suffocated; for, before the 
 balusters gave way, the lower area was so 
 
 densely packed that those who were pre- 
 cipitated from the densely crowded stairs 
 did not strike the pavement, but fell upon 
 the heads of those below, and in their turn 
 were rai)idly covered with the bodies of 
 others which succeeded them. 
 
 One jjoor girl, who Avas on the stairs 
 after the balusters had gone, feeling her- 
 self pressed towards the fatal edge, threw 
 her arms around a younger girl next to 
 her, who, having more support, stood in 
 no immediate danger. The little one, 
 feeling the grasj) of her friend, said, 
 "Anne, let go, please, or you will drag 
 me down with you." And Annie did let 
 go ; she kept her footing for a few wee 
 seconds, and then reeled and fell upon the 
 mass of sufferers below. She teas amonrj 
 the dead. 
 
 Letitia, the 3'oungest daughter of Mr. 
 Justice Bleakley, was a pupil in one of the 
 small classes, and when the children rushed 
 for the stairway she was carried with the 
 current, and they all went down together, 
 as if upon tlie tossing waves. When thus 
 descending below stairs, she sank upon 
 one of the steps, beneath several of her 
 schoolmates, and while lying there she 
 Avas almost suffocated, became drowsy and 
 sleepy, and finally said to a little girl 
 beside her, " Antoinette, I am going to 
 sleep." At this moment a piece of wood 
 fell upon her head, and, cutting it near the 
 temple, the blood flowed profusely for a 
 while; this had the effect of reviving her, 
 and of restoring her fully to consciousness, 
 so that in a few minutes the little creature 
 was extricated from her perilous situation. 
 
 An instance of fraternal devotion, beau- 
 tifully affectionate, was that of Alfred 
 Gage, who, after reaching the ground floor 
 in safety, saw his brother on the fatal 
 staircase, vainly seeking to retain his foot- 
 ing. Alfred attempted to stem the living 
 tide, and to make his way through it to 
 assist his brother, but his efforts were 
 fruitless, — and so, placing himself heroic- 
 ally just below where his brother stood 
 poised, he told him to spring down. Thus 
 called upon, the boy made the frightful 
 leap into the arms of his brother, and both 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 571 
 
 fell among the dying and wounded, with- 
 out being in the least injured. 
 
 At the time of the alarm, Miss Higgins, 
 one of the teachers, had eighty children, 
 from seven to ten years of age, in a class- 
 room sixteen feet square. The panic 
 
 h'\ 
 
 
 
 
 Among the many peculiar escapes, was 
 that of a girl of about ten years of age, 
 who jumped from one of the windows o': 
 the female department, and was partially- 
 caught by a man who saw the act. Tho 
 girl escaped with only a sprained ankle, 
 while the man was quite seriously bruised 
 by the concussion. 
 
 Many were struck with admiration at 
 the conduct of a very young hid, who al- 
 most fought at the door of one of the class- 
 rooms in the female department, to pre- 
 vent the scholars from rushing into the 
 hall and thence into the abyss of destruc- 
 
 mm^^ 
 
 ^•^ 
 
 ■ rnF'- 
 
 
 Hr^ 
 
 
 
 seized them, and she could exercise 
 no restraint upon their movements. 
 They escaped from the room, and 
 three were killed ; some of them 
 jumped out of a window. The dear 
 
 FRIGHTFUL CATASTROPHE IX A 
 
 tiny ones were completely beside them- 
 selves, and quite a number began to take 
 off their clothes and shoes. This was a 
 singular and unaccountable proceeding, 
 but, being commenced by some of the 
 scholars, the rest followed their example, 
 not knowing what they did. 
 
 PCBLIC SCHOOL-HOUSE, NEW YORK. 
 
 tion. He made the most manful struggles, 
 but was finally forced along with the 
 current, and came very near going down 
 the dreadful precipice at the front stairway. 
 One girl, about nine years old, came 
 within a hair's breadth of a violent death. 
 She had been forced over the fatal brink 
 
572 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 by the crowd that pressed and swayed from 
 above, but it chanced that her dress caught 
 upon a projecting fragment of the bahis- 
 ter, and held her for at least a minute over 
 the yawning gulf. She was finally res- 
 cued by the well-judged management of 
 some boys, who conveyed her to a place of 
 safety. 
 
 The lives of two children were saved, 
 just at the moment of the breaking of the 
 rails, by a most fortunate circumstance. 
 Two children, the one a girl nine or ten 
 years old, and the other a boy of six years, 
 were rushing with the throng to get down 
 stairs, but just as the boy reached the 
 door he thought of his hat, and determined 
 not to go without it. His sister wanted 
 to hurry him on, but all that could be said 
 would not prevail upon him to go, and so 
 they both returned to find his hat. Just 
 before they had crossed the school-room 
 the railing gave way, plunging hundreds 
 down the well of the stairs, but the little 
 boy and his sister were saved — for, before 
 the hat was found, persons got into the 
 room, and prevented any more of the 
 children from passing out. 
 
 On the day succeeding this lamentable 
 occurrence, a jury was summoned to make 
 an official investigation of all the circum- 
 stances connected with it. Among other 
 victims examined by them was the body 
 of Virginia Mingay, ten years old. She 
 was neatly laid out in her coffin, had no 
 marks of violence on her body, but seemed 
 as if she was quietly reposing in a gen- 
 tle slumber. Suffocation had caused her 
 death. The appearance of the fair, sweet 
 form, of Virginia, touched all heart;* with 
 deepest sadness. 
 
 A more melancholy sight still, met the 
 jury, at a house where lay the two lovely 
 WooUey children, a brother and sister, who 
 had both been taken up dead, and were 
 now laid out, in affection's embrace, on a 
 couch. The girl, seven years and one 
 month old, was a beautiful creature even 
 in death, and had been one of the most 
 promising pupils of her age in school ; the 
 boy was almost ten years old, and bore a 
 great resemblance to his sister. The poor 
 
 mother had onlj^ a short time previous lost 
 one child, and this blow had rendered her 
 not only childless but well-nigh a lunatic. 
 Grief and tears alone could depict the feel- 
 ings of the human heart, under such cir- 
 cumstances. This certainly was the testi- 
 mony of those who gazed upon the two 
 children of this bereaved and heart-broken 
 mother, as the little ones lay in their last 
 sleep on earth, for the tears glistened in 
 the eyes of many who had long been 
 strangers to such sensations. 
 
 At another house, the jury found the 
 body of Abby Antoinette Jacobus, a little 
 less than seven 3'ears of age. So calm and 
 winsome appeared the corpse of this sweet 
 young creature, that the foreman called 
 upon the jurors in the background to come 
 and see it, for, said he, pathetically, " I 
 never saw a more angelic countenance in 
 my life." This was true, for no mark of 
 suffering could be observed on the face of 
 the child, — a smile, rather, rested upon 
 the lips, as if the spirit, in passing away 
 without a pang, had lingered to impress a 
 kiss upon what was once its earthly prison 
 before it went to God. 
 
 The parents of some of the dead children 
 were very jioor, as well as those of some 
 of the injured scholars, and in some in- 
 stances they were not even prepared with 
 funds to bur^' their dead. On Saturday 
 morning, therefore, one of the school trus- 
 tees took a carriage and visited most of 
 the destitute bereaved parents. He found 
 the poor creatures, in some instances, in 
 the deepest of poverty, living even in cel- 
 lars and in back garrets, and to those who 
 really needed it, relief was cheerfully 
 given. One poor widow woman, who had 
 an injured child, was in the act of borrow- 
 ing two cents to buy some bit^cuit for her 
 offspring, when the trustee entered, and, 
 on his su])plying her with a few dollars to 
 nourish the forlorn and injured babe, she 
 shed such copious tears of thankfulness for 
 the gift, as fairljr prevented utterance. 
 
 Everything was done that sympathy, 
 and kindness, and generosity, could devise. 
 In many cases, orders were given for cof- 
 fins and burials, and for all necessary arti- 
 
GREAT AND IVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 573 
 
 cles to array the little hodies appropriately 
 and have them conveyed to the ground. 
 The teachers of all the different depart- 
 ments of the schools were employed in 
 visiting the sick, and rendering assistance 
 to the bereaved parents, and their good 
 offices tended much to assuage the agony 
 of many a poor mother's heart. In their 
 attentions to the injured, they were very 
 assiduous, and nothing was wanting on 
 their part to soothe the sick bed of the 
 suffering children. 
 
 Not the least melancholy object con- 
 nected with this tragical event, was the 
 interior of the building itself, where these 
 fifty promising children were so suddenly 
 ushered into eternity, and where a still 
 greater number were injured and made 
 invalids. So great was the excitement on 
 the succeeding day, that hundreds of per- 
 sons still crowded around the school-house 
 and the police station, anxious to hear 
 every new particular concerning the catas- 
 trophe. Police officers guarded the doors, 
 to prevent the rush of curious visitors from 
 overrunning the school-rooms, and, in the 
 interior of the building, officers were sta- 
 tioned to keep order among those who 
 gained admittance. The first thing that 
 struck the attention, on entering the build- 
 ing, was the scathed and naked stairway, 
 and the fragments of the shattered balus- 
 ter strewed over the basement floor. These 
 balusters were not strong — far less so, it 
 was easy to perceive, than they should 
 have been for a building the uses of which 
 necessarily subjected them to a heavy 
 pressure in the daily discharge of one to 
 two thousand children. Passing on now 
 to the deserted school-rooms, everything 
 was found remaining precisely as it had 
 been left by its flying occupants ; — the open 
 books, the slates covered with exercises 
 and half-finished sums, piles of hats, 
 masses of cloaks and other garments of the 
 children, and innumerable memorials of 
 the populous school-room, were strewed 
 about upon the desks and over the floor, all 
 possessing in their abandonment a most 
 melanchol}' interest. In due time, persons 
 were employed by the trustees to gather 
 
 up the garments of the poor dead children 
 and convey them to the station-house, 
 where they were spread out and arranged 
 for the inspection of those friends who 
 could identify them. The sight presented 
 by the woe-stricken and ghastly faces, 
 frantic gestures, and bewailing expres- 
 sions, of these afflicted parents, was dis- 
 tressing in the extreme. As might be 
 expected, some of the bereaved parents 
 became hopelessly insane. 
 
 But all this might have been even worse, 
 but for the admirable coolness and consid- 
 eration of one individual. The sudden- 
 ness of the alarm, and the overwhelming 
 rush which was made for the door, seem 
 to have taken the teachers utterly by sur- 
 prise, and to have communicated to them 
 a portion of the delirious terror from which 
 the disaster sprang. It was, however, to 
 the self-possession of one of the instruC'. 
 tors, Mr. McNally, principal of the male 
 department, that was due the peremptory 
 closing of the door of his apartment, which 
 prevented its inmates from escaping and 
 thus contributing their distraction and 
 lives to the horror of the scene. Had the 
 control of his consciousness and self-com- 
 mand failed him at this intensely critical 
 moment, the loss of- life must have been 
 terribly aggravated. 
 
 Most of the two-score or more victims 
 of this dreadful calamity were buried on 
 Saturday and Sunday. Seventeen were 
 interred in Greenwood cemetery on Sat- 
 urday, and their funerals were attended 
 by the surviving members of the classes to 
 which they belonged. At the Baptist 
 church in West Sixteenth street, funeral 
 ceremonies were conducted at the same 
 hour over the remains of four of the youth- 
 ful dead. Touching allusions were made 
 in the funeral sermon by the pastor, to the 
 sweet and to him familiar faces which lay 
 before him. They were all, he said, girls 
 of fine intellectual endowment, and were 
 all treading the same path, attending the 
 same school, and, in the Sunday-school 
 connected with that church, they were all 
 in one class. Thus, in the beautiful lan- 
 guage of inspiration, " they were lovely in 
 
574 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 tlieir lives, and in their death they were 
 not separated." After the singing of a 
 hymn of sorrow, by tlie choir, the congre- 
 gation passed round the aisles, in order to 
 look upon the faces of the dear dej^arted 
 children for the last time — a sad sight, 
 indeed, those gentle forms and fairest of 
 faces, now motionless in death. The four 
 coffins were alike, and, as the children 
 were nearly of the same age, they were 
 about the same size. Though not sisters 
 in life, they looked so in death. 
 
 As already stated, seventeen of the 
 unfortunate children were on Saturday 
 conveyed to Greenwood cemetery, and in 
 one hearse four little bodies were to be seen. 
 The throng of carriages and spectators, as 
 cortege after cortege entered that silent 
 garden of the dead, showed the feeling 
 that possessed all hearts in the community. 
 At the graves, the scenes were inexpres- 
 sibly heart-rending, for the tears and 
 moans of bereaved mothers who mourned 
 for the loss of their dear offspring, mingled 
 with the tears of sympathy from surround- 
 ing friends, melted every heart that beat 
 in the grave-yard, and made the occasion 
 one never to be forgotten by those present. 
 
 On Sunday, burial services were per- 
 formed for most of the remaining victims. 
 Among these was that of little Jane 
 Gowry, twelve years old, being the only 
 child of a widow lady, who lost her hus- 
 band but a few months previously, in Cal- 
 ifornia. The body was accompanied to 
 the church by the children of the class to 
 which the deceased belonged, and the poor 
 mother, worn down with grief, and help- 
 less from excessive sorrow, was carried into 
 a carriage to pay the last duty to her 
 departed child. On the arrival of the body 
 at the church, it was placed opposite the 
 pulpit, and the coffin lid being removed, 
 the sweet little face was looked upon once 
 more by the congregation which filled 
 every part of the vast edifice. During the 
 funeral address, the whole audience was 
 moved to sighs and tears, and this mourn- 
 ful fact was so manifest, that the distressed 
 
 mother fainted, in the excess of her grief 
 and her affliction. The hearse was now 
 brought, and the remains being placed in 
 it, a procession was formed, to proceed to 
 the grave. A large omnibus, supplied by 
 Mr. Reuben Kipp, of the firm of Kipp & 
 Brown, stage proprietors, and drawn by 
 six beautiful cream-colored horses, led the 
 mournful cavalcade, and in it were forty- 
 one young girls, who were members of the 
 same Sabbath-school with the deceased — 
 that of the Jane-street Methodist church. 
 The procession gently coursed to the cem- 
 etery, where the remains were deposited, 
 amid an outburst of mourning which would 
 have melted the most hardened heart. No 
 less than seven of the scholars belonging 
 to this Sabbath-school were killed by the 
 accident. 
 
 Similar proceedings took place in con- 
 nection with the funerals of others, though 
 but one more need here be particularized, 
 to show the sorrow upon sorrow which 
 attended this frightful catastrophe. Early 
 on Sunday afternoon, the body of little 
 Cornelia Cadmus, a pretty girl of seven 
 summers, was conveyed from the residence 
 of her distracted parents to Trinity ceme- 
 tery. A large procession was formed, and 
 the cortege moved at a slow rate, through 
 the different streets. The bereaved par- 
 ents were grieving at their loss, and 
 lamenting their unfortunate condition, 
 little thinking that another sad accident 
 awaited their remaining child, at the very 
 moment that the cold grave was about to 
 close upon their little daughter forever ; 
 but so it was, and the doom of another 
 infant, dearer than ever by the loss of his 
 sister, was very near. The little brother 
 of the deceased, while looking from a car- 
 riage window, fell through, and the wheel 
 of the next vehicle passed over its head. 
 The deeply distressed mother clasped the 
 little sufferer in hor arms and bathed it 
 with new tears, amid the sobs of sympa- 
 tliizing beholders. Medical aid was ob- 
 tained, and the cranium of the little child 
 was pronounced perilously injured. 
 
LXVII. 
 
 APPEARANCE OF THE MARINE MONSTER KNOWN AS 
 THE SEA-SERPENT, ALONG THE ATLANTIC 
 
 COAST.— 1851. 
 
 Statements of Numerous Eye Witnesses, as to its Form, Size, Color, and Movements. — Estimated 
 Lenurth, One Hundred Feet — Its Body Cylindrical in Sliape, and of the Diameterof aLargeCask. — 
 EfTect of Siiot Upon the Animal. — Astonishing Rapidity of its Course — Observers Struck with Won- 
 der and Awe at Such a Sight. — The Monarch of the Deep. — Opinions of Scientific Men. — Existence 
 of the Animal Proved. — Evidence on this Point. — Reliability of the Witnesses. — Their Various 
 Descriptions. — Concurrence of Testimony. — No Similar Sea Animal — Seen in Different Localities. 
 — Observed from Sea and Shore. — Frequents New England — Near Views Obtained of Him — Clear 
 Weather, Smootli Seas — Drawings Made on the Spot. — His Gigantic Dimensions. — Linnsean Soci- 
 ety's Report — Supposed to be the " Leviathan." — His Steady and Onward Pace. — A Mile in Three 
 Minutes. — Attitude of the Body. — Elevation of the Head. — Dark Brown the Chief Color. 
 
 " Prone on the flood extended, Ions and large, 
 
 floatinij many a rood; in bulk as huge 
 
 As whom the fables name ot nioustrous size." 
 
 ZOOLOGICAL writers of eminence, especially in that department or branch of 
 the great science of zoology which treats of fishes, — their anatomical structure, form, 
 classification, and habits, — are not yet unanimous in their opinion as to the actual 
 existence of the monster so long known by the name of the Sea-Serpent. But, as the 
 facts by which such a question is to be decided must, after all, depend simply upon the 
 accumulated testimony of those persons who, at different times and in different locali- 
 ties, have not only seen but minutely described the remarkable marine inhabitant thus 
 made so familiar and interesting to the public mind, it will be sufficient to present here 
 the substance of tnat testimony, so far as it shall appear conclusive, and which stands 
 unimpeached on the score of credibility and consistency, — it being universally admitted, 
 by those who have made the subject a specialty of investigation, that the monster which 
 made its appearance on our American coast, in 1851, exhibited the same general char- 
 acteristics as those noted by observers before and since. 
 
 By most of those who have seen this wonderful inhabitant of the great deep, and been 
 so near him as to make accurate observations, and, from these, furnish a detailed account 
 
576 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 of his peculiarities, his length is estimated 
 at about one hundred feet, — the state- 
 ments, however, on this point, vary some- 
 what, some witnesses putting it at seventy- 
 five feet, otliers at one hundred, and some 
 at considerably more than this, a difference 
 owing to tlie various distances or posi- 
 tions, at or in which the animal was seen ; 
 its thickness is represented as about that 
 of a large barrel, or of a cask twice the 
 size of an ordinary barrel. By many, who 
 have observed the peculiarities of the ser- 
 pent's form, he is described as having 
 l^rotuberances on the back, nearly the 
 whole length from the neck to the tail, 
 and not unlike the humps on the camel's 
 back ; but others have entertained the 
 opinion that these apparent bunches were 
 owing to the manner of his motion in the 
 water. 
 
 When the serpent was first seen in 
 Penobscot Bay, on his modern visit to that 
 section, the bunches or humps were taken 
 by some to be a school of porpoises, swim- 
 ming by in a line — a supposition, however, 
 which was afterwards abandoned, when 
 the animal was seen by a number of per- 
 sons, at different times, and most of them 
 too near the striking object, not to be able 
 i'O judge correctly. 
 
 But, long before the appearance of the 
 sea-serpent on our American coasts, that 
 is, in the waters of Massachusetts and 
 Maine, he had been repeatedly seen along 
 the shores of Norway, and minutely de- 
 scribed by those who saw him. They 
 represented the creature to be of great 
 length, and to have large bunches ; the 
 drawing made of the monster very strongly 
 resembles the sketches given of the vis- 
 itor on our American coast. 
 
 It is not necessary, however, to go so 
 far distant as northern Europe, for evi- 
 dence that the sea-serpent is a verity and 
 not a myth. America, and especially the 
 New England portion of it, has been the 
 scene of its most frequent visits, and from 
 tliere have emanated the most abundant 
 and circumstantial chronicles concerning 
 this mysterious and curiosity-exciting o\>- 
 ject. On the appearance of the serpent 
 
 in Penobscot Bay, it was seen, among 
 others, by a respectable and highly intelli- 
 gent clergj^nan of the neighborhood, who, -if 
 by request, prepared a particular descrip- 
 tion of the animal's appearance and move- 
 ments. Several persons were with him at 
 the time, and had a full view of the mon- 
 ster for some minutes. They saw him at 
 rest on the water; and afterwards saw 
 him dart out to sea with great velocity. 
 Captain George Little, in command of a 
 vessel on the coast of Maine, saw the ser- 
 pent in Broad Bay — which is west of 
 Penobscot Bay — and supposed it to be 
 fifty feet or more in length ; but he was 
 not so near as to enable him to satisfacto- 
 rily determine this point. Prior to this. 
 Captain Kent, master of a coasting sloop, 
 saw a " sea-snake," as he termed it, and 
 which appeared to him to be at least fifty 
 feet long. Captain Crabtree, who resided 
 on an island in the same bay — a man of 
 excellent character, as well as of discrim- 
 inating observation, deposed that he had 
 heard the people there speak of having 
 seen a large sea-serpent on various occa- 
 sions, and that finally he saw it himself; 
 he saw it lying at rest, for some time, on 
 the surface of the water, and within five 
 hundred feet of the land, and he judged it 
 to be one hundred feet long and three feet 
 in diameter. Subsequently, the animal 
 appeared again, near the same place. On 
 one occasion, two of the animals were seen 
 together, in that vicinity'. 
 
 Similar in appearance to the above, was 
 the serpent seen near Plymouth, Mass., 
 outside of the harbor, but near the land, 
 and witliin a quarter of a mile of those 
 who saw }nm. One of these was a very 
 intelligent soa-captain, who viewed him 
 with the naked eye, and also through a 
 glass. When he first observed the animal, 
 it was moving directl}'- from him, and 
 seemed to be about thirty or forty feet 
 long ; but on changing its course, and 
 exhibiting fairly its whole length, lie 
 judged it to be at least one hundred feet. 
 The serpent again approached the shore, 
 and remained at rest for about five min- 
 utes. The sky was clear and the weather 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 577 
 
 calm, affording the most perfect opportu- 
 nity for observation. The bunches were 
 as large as a barrel, and about thirty in 
 number. The head and neck appeared 
 six or eight feet long. It was of a deep 
 brown color. 
 
 The vicinity of Cape Ann seems to have 
 been a favorite resort with this monster. 
 At one time, it was seen by the master of 
 an eastern coaster, lying at anchor in the 
 harbor of Gloucester; there it lay at rest, 
 on the surface of the water, very near his 
 vessel, with its head near the cable in 
 front of the vessel, and its tail extending 
 beyond the stern. The vessel was at least 
 sixty feet, according to her tonnage ; and 
 the animal not less than seventy-five or 
 eight3^ Soon after, one of the citizens of 
 Gloucester, who resided at the point of 
 land running out into the Atlantic, saw 
 the serpent and gave an account of it. 
 He had a chance to view the animal for 
 more than an hour, during which it was 
 in motion backwards and forwards, and 
 nearer, or more distant. He saw what he 
 estimated to be fifty feet of the animal's 
 length, but did not speak of any bunches. 
 He described its color as others had done. 
 
 During the same season, and the same 
 month, August, the serpent was seen in 
 that vicinity by a number of other persons, 
 and sometimes within fifty feet. Some 
 noticed the bunches, and some did not. 
 The crew of a vessel belonging to New- 
 buryport, of another vessel belonging to 
 Beverly, and of a vessel from New York 
 to Salem, all saw what they called a large 
 sea-serpent. So also did the fishermen of 
 several Chebaco boats, then employed in 
 the cod or mackerel catching carried on in 
 that region. 
 
 From all this testimony, there seemed 
 to be no doubt, reasonable or plausible, of 
 the existence of a sea-serpent, of some 
 eighty to one hundred feet in length, and 
 of the size of a large barrel or cask. 
 Indeed, so great was the sensation created 
 by the movements of the monster, so 
 repeatedly seen for successive years by so 
 many witnesses, and described by them 
 with such detail and general concurrence, 
 37 
 
 that the Linnsean Society of Boston ap- 
 pointed a committee of eminent scientific 
 gentlemen to collect evidence on the sub- 
 ject, and they drew up a report, giving in 
 detail the depositions of numerous wit- 
 nesses who saw the creature on shore or at 
 sea, some of them from a distance of only 
 ten yards. According to these witnesses, 
 the monster was from eighty to ninety feet 
 long, his head usually carried about two 
 feet above water ; of a dark brown color ; 
 the body with thirty or more protuber- 
 ances, compared by some to four-gallon 
 kegs, by others to a string of buoys, and 
 called by several persons bunches on the 
 back ; motion very rapid, faster than that 
 of a whale, swimming a mile in three min- 
 utes, and sometimes more, leaving a wake 
 behind him ; chasing mackerel, herrings, 
 and other fish, which were seen jumping 
 out of the water, fifty at a time, as he 
 approached. He only came to the surface 
 of the sea in calm and bright weather. A 
 skillful gunner fired at him from a boat, 
 and, having taken good aim, felt sure he 
 must have hit him on the head; the crea- 
 ture turned toward him, then dived under 
 the boat, and immediately re-appeared on 
 the other side, at a distance of about a 
 hundred yards. 
 
 A somewhat curious incident occurred 
 at the time the committee were concluding 
 their report, and which naturally created 
 quite a lively interest and not a little dis- 
 cussion. Just where the animal was so 
 often seen in Gloucester Bay and near 
 Cape Ann, there is a cove making up into 
 the land, beyond the general course about 
 one hundred and fifty yards ; near this 
 cove a snake was discovered and taken, 
 while aiming towards the bay. When 
 moving slowly on the ground, the motion 
 was vertical ; and it moved by contracting 
 and then extending itself. One of the 
 men present pursued and detained it with 
 his pitchfork. The efforts it made were 
 said to be different from those of ordinary 
 snakes. It had the power of expansion 
 and contraction in a remarkable degree. 
 When contracted, it was scarcely two feet 
 long, and there appeared bunches on the 
 
578 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 back ; but when it was at rest and lying 
 horizontal!}', it was three feet, and the 
 bunches were hardly perceptible. The 
 people who killed it, believing that there 
 were some striking differences between 
 such a snake and those commonly seen, 
 sent it to Boston, where it was carefully 
 and scientifically examined. Its length 
 was found to be two feet eleven inches and 
 a half ; and, from a comparison of the 
 young of large land snakes and serpents, 
 with those of common age and growth, it 
 was estimated that the parent of this — if 
 but a few weeks old — might be from one 
 hundred to one hundred and eight feet. 
 The place where the 3'oung was found ; 
 the peculiar formation with bunches made 
 by self-contraction ; and the spine adapted 
 to this singular shape, excepting near the 
 neck and tail, where it was straight as in 
 other serjjents, and where no bunches were 
 discovered in the large monster ; — all these 
 characteristics seemed to render it proba- 
 ble, in the minds of the examiners, that 
 the small animal was the offspring of the 
 great sea-monster. But some doubted, and 
 attributed the protuberances to disease 
 of the spine. Twenty-four distinct bunches 
 were noticed between the head and tail- 
 end of the creature. The color was a deep 
 brown ; the belly a little lighter. The 
 internal structure of the animal captured, 
 differed from that of other serpents ; the 
 different vertebrae varied, and were accom- 
 modated by their shape and size to the 
 configuration of the back. 
 
 Among others who saw this mammoth 
 inhabitant of the deep, — supposed to be 
 the "leviathan," of which King David 
 speaks when recounting the wonders of 
 divine power, — was the Hon. T. H. Per- 
 kins, for fifty years one of the most emi- 
 nent and honored of Boston merchants. 
 On seeing the far-famed animal, he wrote 
 down notes of his observations, from which 
 it appears that he counted fourteen pro- 
 jections, six feet apart, on the back, which 
 he presumed to be vertical flexures of the 
 body when in motion ; but he also saw the 
 body bent horizontally into the figure of 
 the letter S. It was of a chocolate brown 
 
 color, the head flat, and about a foot across. 
 Respecting the length, Mr. Mansfield, a 
 friend of Mr. Perkins, was driving a one- 
 horse vehicle on a road skirting Gloucester 
 Bay, along the edge of a cliff, fifty or sixty 
 feet in perpendicular height, when he saw 
 the serpent at the base of the cliff on the 
 white beach, where there was not more 
 than six or seven feet water, and, giving 
 the reins to his wife, looked down upon the 
 creature, and made up his mind it was 
 ninety feet long ; he then took his wife to 
 the spot, and asked her to guess its length, 
 and she said it was as long as the wharf 
 behind their house, and this measured 
 about one hundred feet. While they were 
 looking down on it, the creature appeared 
 to be alarmed, and started off. 
 
 Mr. Cabot, another eminent Boston mer- 
 chant, was also one of those who saw 
 the serpent, and gave an account of it to 
 that distinguished man of science, who 
 was then traveling in America. Sir Charles 
 Lyell. On the latter asking Mr. Cabot 
 whether what seemed to be a serpent, or 
 monster, might not have been a shoal of 
 porpoises following each other in a line, at 
 the distance of one or two yards, and 
 tumbling over so as to resemble a string of 
 floating barrels in motion, Mr. Cabot said 
 that after such an explanation had been 
 suggested respecting the matter, he was 
 one of thirty persons who ran along the 
 beach at Nahant, near Boston, when the 
 sea-serjient was swimming very near the 
 shore ; — they were all convinced that it 
 was one animal, and they soon saw it raise 
 its head out of the water. Mr. Cabot also 
 stated that there were at that time two 
 sea-serpents moving about in the bay at 
 once. 
 
 The fact of the sea-serpent's course not 
 being confined to the places at the north 
 already mentioned, but that it went as far 
 south as Cape Hatteras, in North Carolina, 
 latitude thirty-five degrees, is well attested. 
 Among other evidence to this effect, is 
 tliat of Captain Johnson, of New Jersey, 
 who states that he was sailing from the 
 West Indies, on the inner edge of the 
 Gulf Stream^ in a deeply laden brig, when 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 579 
 
 they were becalmed, and the crew and 
 passengers awe-struck by the sudden appa- 
 rition of a creature having a cylindrical 
 body of enormous lengtli, and which lifted 
 up its head eight feet above the water. 
 The story was so likely to be discredited, 
 that the captain Avould only relate it to 
 intimate friends. 
 
 One of the most readable and reliable 
 narratives concerning this gigantic fish, is 
 that contained in a letter written by James 
 Prince, formerly United States marshal, to 
 Judge Davis, of Massachusetts. His head 
 (writes Mr. Prince,) appeared about three 
 feet above water, and on his back were 
 to be seen thirteen bunches. He passed 
 three times, at a moderate rate, across the 
 bay, but so as to occasion, a foam in the 
 water; and in length the monster was 
 judged to be from forty to not more than 
 sixty feet. Whether, however, the wake 
 might not have been added to the appear- 
 ance of his length, or whether the undu- 
 lation of the water or his peculiar manner 
 of propelling himself might not, also, have 
 caused the appearance of protuberances, 
 
 could not be positively determined. The 
 first view of the animal occasioned some 
 agitation on the part of the observers, and 
 the novelty of the scene perhaps prevented 
 that precise discrimination which after- 
 Avards took place. As he swam up the 
 hay, the spectators moved on and kept 
 nearly abreast of him, He occasionally 
 withdrew himself under the water, and 
 the idea occurred to those who witnessed 
 his movements, that his practice of now 
 and then raising his head above the level 
 of the water was to take breath, as the 
 time he kept under was, on an average, 
 about eight minutes; and, after being 
 accustomed to viewing him, the party 
 became more composed, and his general 
 appearance was as above delineated. 
 
 Mrs. Prince and the coachman, having 
 the best eye-sight, were of great assistance 
 to Mr. Prince, in marking the progress of 
 the animal ; they would say, ' He is now 
 turning,' and, by the aid of a glass, Mr. 
 Prince saw him distinctly in that move- 
 ment. He did not turn without occupying 
 some space, and, taking into view the time 
 and space which he found necessary to his 
 accommodation in this process, some crite- 
 rion was afforded by which to judge of the 
 creature's length. Seven distinct views 
 were obtained of him, from the longbeaili, 
 so called, and at some of them the animal 
 was not more than a hundred yards dis- 
 tant. Mr. Prince had been accustomed to 
 see whales, sharks, grampuses, porpoises, 
 g and other large fishes, but this monster 
 I partook of none of the appearances of either 
 ~ of these. The water was extremely smooth 
 
 APPEABANCE OF THE HUGE SEA-SERPENT ALONG THE ATLANTIC COAST. 
 
580 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 and clear, and the time occupied in these 
 minute and deliberate observations, was 
 more than three hours. The company of 
 witnesses, exceeding two hundred, were all 
 alike satisfied and united as to the appear- 
 ance of the animal, in respect to size and 
 movements, as here described. 
 
 But, that the existence of the American 
 sea-serjient is not a "local trumped-up 
 wonder," will further appear from the 
 account given by a Jiarty of five English 
 officers, Avhich sailed from Halifax, Nova 
 Scotia, in a small yacht, for Mahone Bay, 
 forty miles westward, on a fishing excur- 
 sion, and whose testimony is unanimous 
 and unreserved relative to this monarch of 
 the tribes of the deep. 
 
 According to the statement published 
 in the " Zoiilogist," of the experiences of 
 this party of officers, they had run about 
 half the distance intended, as they sup- 
 posed, and were enjoying themselves on 
 deck, smoking cigars, and getting their 
 tackle ready for the contemplated campaign 
 against the salmon, when, what was the 
 party's surprise, to see an immense shoal 
 of grampuses, appearing to be in an unu- 
 sual state of excitement, and which, in 
 their gambols, approached so close to the 
 yacht, that some of the company amused 
 themselves by firing at them with rifles. 
 At this time, the boat was jogging on at 
 al)0ut five miles an hour, and was crossing 
 Margaret's Bay. Their attention was 
 l)resently diverted from the grampuses and 
 " such small deer," by an exclamation from 
 tlie man-of-war's-man, who was sitting to 
 leeward, of " Oh ! sirs, look here ! " They 
 were started into a ready compliance with 
 the excited summons, and at once saw an 
 object which banished all other feelings 
 save wonder and surprise. 
 
 At the distance of some one hundred 
 and fifty to two hundred yards on the star- 
 board bow of the little craft, they saw the 
 head and neck of some denizen of the 
 deep — precisely like those of a common 
 snake, — in the act of swimming, the head 
 so far elevated and thrown forward by the 
 curve of the neck as to enable the observ- 
 ers to see the water under and beyond it. 
 
 The creature passed along rapidl}?-, leaving 
 a regular wake, from the commencement 
 of which to the fore part, which was out of 
 water, the length seemed to be about 
 eighty feet — certainly not less than this. 
 They were, of course, all taken aback at 
 the sight, and with staring eyes and in 
 speechless wonder stood gazing at it for 
 full half a minute, all being perfectly sat- 
 isfied that they had been favored with a 
 view of the true and veritable sea-serpent, 
 which by many was regarded as existing 
 only in the brain of some Yankee skipper, 
 and treated as a tale not much entitled to 
 belief. The man-of-war's-man's exclama- 
 tion was characteristic as well as pertinent 
 — " Well, Vve sailed in all parts of the 
 xoorld, and have seen sum sights too in my 
 time, but this is the queerest thing I ever 
 see ! " 
 
 The difficulty of giving correctly the 
 dimensions of any object in the water is 
 well-known. The head of the creature was 
 by this party set down at about six feet in 
 length, and that portion of the neck which 
 was visible, at the same ; the ajiparent 
 extreme length, at between eighty and a 
 hundred feet. The thickness of the neck 
 equaled the trunk of a moderate sized tree. 
 The color of the head and neck was a 
 dark brown, nearly approaching to black, 
 streaked in an irregular manner with 
 white. 
 
 Another witness who may profitably be 
 cited in this connection, as alike intelli- 
 gent and disinterested, is Captain IM'Quhfe, 
 commander of the English ship Daedalus, 
 in the autumn of 1848. While the ship's 
 company were at supper, and the officers 
 walking the deck, an object of unusual 
 appearance was observed approaching the 
 ship from before the beam. On examina- 
 tion, it was discovered to be an enormous 
 serpent, with head and shoulders kept 
 about four feet constantly above the sur- 
 face of the sea; and as nearly as they 
 could approximate by comparing it with 
 what their main-topsail j'ard would show 
 in the water, there was at the very least 
 sixty feet of the animal visible, no portion 
 of which was, to appearance, used in pro- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 581 
 
 polling it through the water, either by 
 vertical or horizontal undulation. The 
 captain states that it passed rapidly, but 
 so close under the lee quarter, that had it 
 been a man of his acquaintance, he should 
 have easily recognized his features with 
 the naked eye; and it did not, either in 
 approaching the ship or after it had passed 
 the ship's wake, deviate in the slightest 
 degree from its course to the south-west, 
 which it held on at the pace of from twelve 
 to fifteen miles per hour, apparently on 
 some determined purpose. The diameter 
 of this serpent, or sea-snake, was about 
 fifteen or sixteen inches behind the head; 
 and it was never, during the twenty min- 
 utes that it continued in sight of the cap- 
 tain's glasses, once below the surface of 
 the water. Its color was of a dark brown, 
 with yellowish white about the throat. It 
 had no fins, biit something like the mane 
 of a horse washed about its back. 
 
 Captain M'Quhae states, with great pos- 
 itiveness, that the creature was different 
 from anything he had before witnessed — 
 resembling neither a whale, a gramjDus, a 
 great shark, an alligator, nor any of the 
 larger surface-swimming creatures fallen 
 in with in ordinary voyages ; neither was 
 it a common seal, nor a sea-elephant, its 
 great length and its totally differing phys- 
 iognomy precluding the possibility of its 
 belonging to any such species. The cal- 
 culations formed, as to its dimensions and 
 character, were the result of the most dis- 
 criminating observations. Indeed, it was 
 not until after the great length of the 
 object was developed by its nearest ap- 
 proach to the ship, and until after that 
 most important j^oint had been duly con- 
 sidered and debated — as well as such could 
 be in the brief space of time allowed for so 
 doing, — that it was pronounced to be a 
 serpent by all who saw it. 
 
 Captain M'Quhae's second officer states 
 that the appearance of the serpent's head 
 — which, with the back fin, or mane, was 
 the only portion of the animal visible, — 
 was long, pointed, and flattened at the top, 
 the length being perhaps ten feet, and the 
 upper jaw projecting considerably; the 
 
 fin or mane was, perhaps, twenty feet in 
 the rear of the head, sind visible occasion- 
 ally. The upper part of the head ami 
 shoulders api)eared of a dark brown color, 
 and beneath the under jaw a brownish 
 wliite. It pursued a steady and undevi- 
 ating course, keeping its head horizontal 
 with the water, and in rather a raised posi- 
 tion, disappearing occasionally beneath a 
 wave for a very brief interval, and not 
 apparently for the purposes of respira- 
 tion. It was going at the rate of soine 
 twelve to fourteen miles an hour, as nearly 
 as could be estimated, and its w'hole aj)- 
 pearance gave one quite the idea of a 
 large snake or eel; no one in the slii]> 
 had ever seen anything similar or so ex- 
 traordinary. 
 
 The first appearance of this famous 
 creature, of any considerable size, on land, 
 was the one described in the journals as 
 having been cast up on the coast of Ber- 
 muda, in January, 1859. It appears that 
 two gentlemen, walking on the beach of 
 Hungary Bay, heard a strange splashing 
 in the water, and almost directly afterward 
 saw a strange sea-monster stranded on the 
 shore, and rapidly dying from exhaustion. 
 It was bright and silvery in color, without 
 scales, and nearly twenty feet long. On 
 being examined by a scientific gentleman, 
 Mr. Matthew Jones, a fellow of the Lin- 
 nsean Society of London, a report was 
 drawn up and published, some of the prin- 
 cipal facts enumerated being as follows : 
 Body, attenuate, compressed, naked ; skin, 
 a silvery covering of metallic luster ; dej^tli, 
 at fourteen inches from the extremity of 
 the face, nine inches, and increasing grad- 
 ually to near the A'ent of the stomach, 
 when it attained its greatest thickness of 
 eleven inches, and then decreasing by 
 degrees to the end of the tail. Width, at 
 the same distance and through the spinal 
 column, two and a half to three inches. 
 All along the back, a series of intermittent 
 fins extended, and so (dosely situated to 
 each other as to appear like one single fin. 
 Head, truncated and compressed ; face of a 
 dark color. Eyes of a bright silver color, 
 with oval pupils of a light transparent 
 
582 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Hue. There was no appearance of any 
 teeth. It was a male fish, and, from the 
 extremely fragile nature of its various 
 parts, had evidently not attained to matu- 
 ritv. The examiner classified the creat- 
 
 ure with what is popularly denominated 
 the monster sea-serpent, it being reasona- 
 bly assumed that a creature which, in 
 infancy, was sixteen feet long, might 
 attain an enormous size at maturity. 
 
LXVIII. 
 
 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 witii 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. — What 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. — The Nation's Courtesy 
 Accepted. — Frigate Mississippi Sent. — Kossuth 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 mid Home I what heavenly music in those words! Alas, I have no home, and the freedom of my people is down-trodden.** 
 —Kossuth, ON uis Arrival in Amkrica. 
 
 IT. S. STEAMER MISSISSIPPI CONVEYING KOSSUTH 
 
 ^^^^Y^OSSUTH'S reception in the United States, as the great J 
 ^^3 ^ ^ advocate of Hungarian independence, was, in some of its 
 
 ^^^^^, ^ most interesting aspects, like that accorded to the illustri- i^^'^^S 
 
584 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ous Lafayette. In the case of Kossuth, 
 however, instead of homage for services 
 Tendered in the dark liour 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 pa- 
 triots, enthusiastically appealing, in his 
 exile, to the generous sympathies of man- 
 kind, in behalf of his father-land, — a people 
 strong and valorous, but crushed beneath 
 the heavy chains of Austrian desiDOtism, 
 backed by the power of Russian bayonets. 
 
 Louis Kossuth was born in 1806, at 
 Monok, in the north of Hungary, of ])<i- 
 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 3'oung Kossuth 
 found his first teacher. His parents dying, 
 the youth, more devoted to books than 
 farming, Avas dispatched to the jjrovincial 
 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 
 oivn historic stvidies and youthful liopes, 
 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 sj)eaker. 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 reports and articles 
 were printed by the then new method of 
 lithography, 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 
 destroj'^ed all Kossuth's lithographic appa- 
 ratus. But even this did not stojj his jjen 
 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, eventuallj', in his release. 
 
 Unterrified by prisons and dungeons, 
 Kossuth, aided by the counsels and co-o])e- 
 ration of his associates, continued to stir 
 the hearts of his countrymen, 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, 
 " With you, if you choose ; withoitt you, 
 or against yon, if it must he.'' 
 
 The vehemency with which lie advo- 
 cated the right and ability of the people of 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 585 
 
 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 countr}^, — a transformation of 
 her moral, political, and material interests, 
 as against the hostile polic_y of Austrian 
 absolutism. It was a struggle for the 
 rights of Hungary, in all circumstances 
 and ascainst 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 
 aimost every capital of empires and king- 
 doms with the bayonets of those who, long 
 oppressed, resolved now to be free. This 
 was the hour for Hungary, and Kossuth 
 was the man ! In a long series of years, 
 with the j)en, with the press, and as an 
 orator, he 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, tied 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 fouienting 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 cai'ry 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 war 
 ended. 
 
586 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 perished, through Russian inter- 
 vention, the cause of Hungarian nation- 
 alitif. 
 
 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 in 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 country they desired. 
 Soli man Bey, the Turkish guard of the 
 refugees during their exile, and who had 
 never failed in the most respectful atten- 
 tions to them, 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 
 cheei's. While opposite the shores of 
 Marseilles, an oj^erative 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, b}' 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 sixth, was the day 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 587 
 
 fixed upon by the great metropolis of the 
 nation, to celebrate his lauiliug in Amer- 
 iea ; 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, 
 seemed to [)artioipate in tlie welcome 
 accorded to the distinguished chief. At 
 an earl}^ hour, the streets were tilled 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 patriotic Ameri- 
 can hospitality. 
 
 Tlie 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 ship. 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 Cliief," and the salute from the guns 
 of the steamer began, which was the signal 
 for another burst of enthusiastic ap^dause. 
 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-i)ast 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 military, 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 : 
 
 ^^ I present to you, my felloiv-citizens, 
 Kossuth, the illustrious Chief of Hun- 
 cjaryy 
 
 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 
 Battery, 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. 
 The different companies, with their em- 
 blazoned standards, shining armor, and 
 splendid uniforms, Avent through their 
 evolutions in superb style. 
 
 The 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 
 
588 
 
 OUE FIEST CEKTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 honored guest passed onward. It was witli 
 the greatest difficulty that the line of the 
 movement could he kept in order, in con- 
 sequence of the rush of the liuman tide 
 that endeavored to keep up with the car- 
 riage containing Kossuth. Every avenue 
 leading fi-oiu Broadway, lent its quota of 
 spectators, to swell up the teeming mass. 
 Many who had Avitnessed similar exhibi- 
 tions of 2)opular enthusiasm from the time 
 of Lafayette's arrival in 1824, said that 
 this ovation to Kossuth exceeded all. 
 Kossuth returned the greetings he re- 
 ceived witli that grace and dignity always 
 
 For some time, Kossuth gave himself up 
 to receiving deputations and their congrat- 
 ulatory addresses. These hailed from all 
 2)arts 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 uccoui; anicd one 
 
 GRAND MILITARY REOEPTIOK OF 
 
 80 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 by him in one of his speeches: 
 "Freedom and home! 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 always spoke 
 of himself and of his ill-fated father-land. 
 
 GOVERNOR KOSSUTH, IK NEW YORK. 
 
 deputation, Kossuth took him by the 
 hand and inquired if he too was an Al- 
 banian. 
 
 ''No, I am a Jersey man," rcj)lied the 
 interrogated, whose fair complexion, and 
 presence with the German companv, had 
 evidently occasioned the mistake. " There 
 are several of us here from the state of 
 New Jersey," exclaimed an old farmer, 
 " ?r« liava come fifty miles to see you." 
 "Believe me, my friends," replied Kos- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 589 
 
 suth, " I deeply appreciate your kindness. 
 It is these little attentions tliat most 
 touch my heart. Adieu." Incidents like 
 this were constantly occurring. 
 
 In Pliiladelpliia, 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 Mar^'land 
 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, Avas 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 
 king — his is a roijal naturcP 
 
 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 Str.tes, 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 Avest. On the seventh, the 
 congress of the United States invited 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 all 
 the past, honors were bestowed upon glory, 
 and glory was attached only to success, the 
 legislative authorities of this great repub- 
 lic bestow honors upon a persecuted exile, 
 not conspicuous bj^ 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, secretar}^ of state, at his 
 left. The speaker of the house sat at 
 Kossuth's side. This was indeed a great 
 occasion for Kossuth, and nobl}' 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, supported 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 
 
590 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURiT.— 1776-1876. 
 
 of her sons, the law of nations and the 
 dictates of justice alike demand tliat she 
 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, liis country 
 and his cause. Other speeches were made 
 by tlie 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, namely, in not securing tlie 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 goverinnent felt obliged to re- 
 frain from any acts of positive interven- 
 tion, as contrary to national usage and 
 policy. 
 
 After remainiiig 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 
 country ; but, after watching for many 
 years the political skies of Eurojje, 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 country, Kossuth was de- 
 scribed by those who enjoyed frequent 
 opportunities of personal contact, as being 
 live 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^ 
 
GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 591 
 
 constituted one of the great charms of his 
 oratory. He spoke as if with little 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 hiui in this 
 respect was, that he was the greatest of 
 
 living orators. 
 
LXIX. 
 
 NATAL EXPEDITION TO JAPAN, UNDER COMMODORE 
 
 M. C. PERRY.— 1852. 
 
 Negotiations to be Opened for Unsealing the Ports of that Empire to America. — Letter of Friendship 
 from the President of the United States to tlie Emperor. — Distinguished Favor Shown the Represen- 
 tatives of the Great Rejiublic. — Ceremonies, Entertainments, and Diplomatic Conferences. — Treaty 
 of Peace, Amity, and Commercial Intercourse Concluded. — Former Japanese Isolation Policy. — Exclu- 
 sive Privileges to tiie Dutch. — Effects of this restriction. — European Efforts to Change it. — Mission 
 of Commodore Biddle. — Seeks the Release of United States Sailors. — Ordered to Depart Forth- 
 with. — Firm Conduct of Captain Glynn. — Contempt for Japanese Etiquette. — Champagne as a 
 Mediator. — Commodore Perry's Fine Fleet. — The Letter in a Golden Box — Its Presentation to the 
 Emperor. — Commissioners Meet Commodore Perry. — Their Attire, Manners, Etc. — The Conference 
 In Session. — Frendliness of the Japanese. — Civilities and Festivals. — Reception on the Flag-Ship. — 
 Substance of the Treaty. — A Talk with the Emperor. — More Privileges Extended. 
 
 "I have directed Commodore Perrj toasaure your imperial majesty that I entertain the kindest feelings towards your majesty's person 
 and government, and that I have no other object in sending him to Japan but to propose to your imperial majesty that the IJnited States 
 and Japan .should live in friendship and have commercial intercourse with each other."— TuE Pbesidk»t's Letter to the £up£B0R. 
 
 IT APANESE seclusion from the rest of the nations of the earth, and especially 
 from the governments representing the same, seemed, for centu- 
 ries, tu be an irritating problem, defying the utmost ingenuity 
 and skill of diplomacy to solve ; and the various attempts, made 
 by different governments, to break through this impenetrable 
 barrier of isolation, were, until a period comparatively recent, 
 completely abortive, — the only approach to anything deserving 
 the name of commercial intercourse with that country being a 
 restricted privilege to trade at one or two points, granted for a 
 time to the Portuguese, and subsequently to the 
 Dutch, but, in each case, upon conditions most 
 humiliating to the parties thus favored by the 
 Japanese. 
 
 But it is a fact which would seem not to 
 admit of any doubt, that this practice of jeal- 
 ous seclusion is fostered rather by the ruling 
 classes, than by the masses of the people, and, 
 therefore, foreign nations have felt all the 
 more justified in endeavoring to break down a 
 policy so manifestly at war with the rights 
 and interests of the human race. Providence 
 having bestowed the whole earth on the chil- 
 TREATY OF PEACE, AMITY, ETC. dreii of men, such isolation is defeating alto- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 593 
 
 gether tliat beneficent purpose ; for, should 
 other nations follow the example of Japan, 
 and refuse to conununicate with their 
 iieiglibors, there would be an end of all 
 commerce, of all progress, of all civiliza- 
 tion, — industry would be smitten with 
 paralysis, and men would regard the inhab- 
 itants of adjoining countries as enemies. 
 
 Of the efforts put forth by European 
 nations to establish commercial and politi- 
 cal fraternity with Japan, no rehearsal 
 need be here made. On the part of the 
 United States, negotiations were under- 
 taken during the administration of Presi- 
 dent Polk, through Commodore Biddle, 
 but with no success of a permanent char- 
 acter. The commodore had been espe- 
 cially charged with the duty of bringing 
 home several American sailors, who, having 
 escaped from the wreck of their whale-ship, 
 succeeded in reaching the Japanese coast, 
 but were forthwith imprisoned. As illus- 
 trating the rules and conduct of the singu- 
 lar people into whose good graces the com- 
 modore tlius essayed to propitiate himself, 
 the following circumstances, as related by 
 Mr. Secretary Kennedy and others, will 
 both amuse and instruct, and form a fit pre- 
 liminary to the account of Commodore Per- 
 ry's subsequent visit: — 
 
 As soon as Commodore Biddle had an- 
 chored in the bay of Yeddo, a junk, with 
 the officials of the empire, came out to his 
 ship, having with them a Dutch inter- 
 preter. Biddle told the dignitaries that 
 the vessels came with good will, to learn 
 whether Japan had, like China, opened 
 her ports to foreign trade ; and, if she 
 had, to negotiate a treaty of commerce. 
 The dignitaries requested that this state- 
 ment should be reduced to writing, for 
 transmission to the higher authorities. 
 He also stated that all needed supplies 
 would be furnished, but refused any per- 
 mission to land. In about a week, an offi- 
 cer with a suite of eight persons came on 
 board with the emperor's letter, which 
 read thus: "According to the Japanese 
 laws, the- Japanese may not trade except 
 with the Dutch and Chinese. It will not 
 be allowed that America make a treaty 
 38 
 
 with Japan or trade with her, as the same 
 is not allowed with any other nation. 
 Concerning strange lands, all things are 
 fixed at Nagasaki, but not here in the 
 bay ; therefore you must depart as quick 
 as possible, and not come any more to 
 Japan." Biddle's instructions being not 
 to do anything " to excite a hostile feeling, 
 or distrust to the United States," he was 
 compelled to refrain from any compulsory 
 proceedings. 
 
 It so happened, that when the junk, 
 with the officials, made the visit to the 
 commodore's vessel, as above described, 
 one of the American officers stepped on 
 board ; but, in consequence of his having 
 violated Japanese etiquette by boarding a 
 government junk before the official bell 
 had been rung, a Japanese knocked him 
 overboard, and the junk returned to the 
 shore. The officer, very naturally thinking 
 himself badly used, demanded an apolog}-. 
 The next day, therefore, the commodore 
 received a message stating that the Jap- 
 anese who had knocked the American over 
 the gangway, would be sent on board with 
 his father and mother, brothers and sis- 
 ters, grandmother, wife, and wife's sister, 
 and that they would all rip themselves 
 op VI before the captalv, for his satisfac- 
 tion. But the captain did not want to 
 witness that sort of satisfaction, and, as 
 he could not ascertain anything about the 
 prisoners, he set sail for home. The Jap- 
 anese entertained a very poor opinion of 
 the American people, in consequence of 
 the conduct of the captain on that occasion 
 — a nation, they thought, that would not 
 allow men to rip themselves open, must be 
 a nation of cowards. The next squadron 
 to Japan was directed by Captain Glynn, 
 who determined to make an example of the 
 Japanese. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as the American ship 
 approached the shore, a junk came off to 
 her, and, when near enough, a parchment 
 was extended towards the ship's officers 
 on a reed. The captain took the parch- 
 ment and threw it into the water. In an 
 instant, four or five Japanese jumped over- 
 board and recovered the parchment, be- 
 
594 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 cause, as the captain was told afterwards, 
 they would have been ripped open if the 
 parchment had been lost. As the anchor- 
 age usually allotted to foreigners did not 
 please Captain Glynn, he moved towards 
 a more convenient haven. Suddenly, a 
 voice in the junk shouted, "You must go 
 no furder — you must go no furder! " The 
 captain, on hearing his own language, said 
 to the speaker, " You are the very man I 
 want." He hove to and got the man on 
 deck. " Who are you, sir ? " asked the 
 captain. " I am the interpreter," said he. 
 " Are you one of the big men of this 
 country ? " asked Glynn. He answered 
 in the negative, but told the captain that 
 he must go no nearer the shore, as it was 
 contrary to the Japanese laws to do so. 
 
 U^CZ. 
 
 " Stranger," said the captain, '' I'll go just 
 where I please, and I don't mean to speak 
 to any one on the island under the prince 
 or governor." So, onward he sailed, till 
 he came to a place that suited him, where 
 he dropped his anchor. Next day the 
 prince of the district, with a great 
 cortege, consisting of about fifty men in 
 yellow robes, was seen walking along the 
 shore. 
 
 They soon entered a junk, and ap- 
 proached the ship. The yellow men 
 entered first, and as soon as they did so 
 they put their heads to the deck and kept 
 them there. When the great functionary 
 entered, instead of going aft, as is the 
 practice with Americans, he walked for- 
 ward. Glynn went up to him, clapped 
 
 him on the shoulder, and said, '^Look you 
 here, friend, you must come the other 
 way." The JajDanese officers and men 
 were astonished at this audacious famil- 
 iarity of the Americans, and thought that 
 their prince was going to be martyred. It 
 is customary in Japanese state junks, to 
 have an elevated platform forward, and 
 that is the place of honor. The Japanese 
 officer was surprised, therefore, on going 
 on the quarter-deck of the strange ship, to 
 see that no platform had been provided ; 
 and so, after looking round for the seat of 
 honor, he went to the helm and perched 
 himself on the rudder post. Glynn sent 
 for a chair, and pointed to it, and in 
 language which, though not to be found in 
 manuals of politeness, was at least very 
 perspicuous, bade him put himself into it. 
 "Now," said he, turning to the interpreter, 
 "tell him that!" The interpreter replied 
 that he could not do so, as such a remark 
 from him would insure his being ripped 
 open on the spot. The captain told him 
 that if he didn't obey him he would blow 
 his brains out. So the interpreter, as a 
 choice of evils, complied with the com- 
 mand. As soon as the prince had seated 
 himself, the captain ordered a bottle of 
 sherry v.'inc, of which he offered him a 
 glass. The interpreter said, "the prince 
 never drinks." "He is with me now, and 
 he vmst drink," replied Glynn. The 
 prince put the glass to his lips, but did 
 not drink the liquor. The captain then 
 turned round to the interpreter and asked, 
 " Will you have it ? " He replied in the 
 negative. The captain then offered cham- 
 pagne. When the prince saw how it 
 sparkled, his scruples vanished, and he 
 drank it off. The captain filled another 
 and yet another glass, which the prince 
 enjoyed infinitely. When the captain saw 
 that he had pleased the prince, he told 
 him, through the interpreter, that he had 
 come for the American prisoners, and they 
 must be given up immediately. The 
 prince said forty days would be required 
 to send to Yeddo for them. Glynn replied, 
 "I must sail in three days, and I must 
 have them then." After some demur, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 595 
 
 four days were alloweil, at which time the 
 prisoners wei'e returned. 
 
 In dispatching the expeditiou under 
 Commolore Perr^^, the object of the 
 United States government was to obtain 
 some definite sti[)uhitions, in the form of a 
 treaty, for mutual commercial transactions, 
 between tlie two countries; and, in order 
 to suitably impress the Japanese witli the 
 serious cliaraeter of the movement, tlie 
 fleet sent out was composed of some of the 
 finest and most formidable ships in the 
 American rnivy, carrying a large number 
 of sailors and marines, and more than the 
 usual complement of guns, mostly heavy 
 ordnance. Each of the steamers mounted 
 a couple of Paixhan shell-guns, of the 
 largest caliber, and placed on revolving 
 trucks, so as to sweep the horizon, — these 
 guns being intended to be used for tlie 
 discharge of shells of sixty-eight and one 
 hundred and twenty pounds each, and 
 long forty-twos, making twenty-two guns 
 to each steamer. Every ship was provided 
 with two brass twenty-four-pound field 
 pieces. 
 
 With this splendid display of naval 
 power, Commodore Perry sailed from the 
 United States, in the steamship Missis- 
 sippi, November 24, 1852, touched at 
 Madeira and the Cape of Good Hope, 
 reached Hong Kong in April, 1853, and 
 thence sailed for Japan. After uniting 
 all the vessels of the squadron, Perr}', 
 leading the fleet in the flag-ship Susque- 
 hanna, made Cape Idzu on the eighth of 
 July. Their first anchorage and inter- 
 course with the natives was near the town 
 of Uraga. On the fourteenth, Prince 
 Iwami gave Commodore Perry a formal 
 reception on shore, and took charge of the 
 president's letter to the emperor. 
 
 This letter, which was written by Hon. 
 Edward Everett, secretary of state, and 
 signed by President Fillmore, was beauti- 
 fully engrossed on parchment and depos- 
 ited in a gold-mounted box of superb 
 workmanship and costing a thousand dol- 
 lars. The excellent spirit in which it was 
 couched will appear from the opening sen- 
 tences, namely : " Great and Good Friend : 
 
 I send you this jjublic letter by Commo- 
 dore Matthew C. I'erry, an officer of the 
 highest rank in the navy of the United 
 States, and commander of the squadron 
 now vis'ting your imperial majesty's 
 dominions. I have directed Commodore 
 Perry to assure your im[)erial majesty that 
 I entertain the kindest feelings towards 
 3'our majesty's person and government, 
 and that I have no other object in sending 
 him to Japan but to propose to your 
 imperial majesty that the United States 
 and Japan should live in friendship and 
 have commercial intercourse with each 
 other. Tlie Constitution and laws of the 
 United States forbid all interference with 
 the religions or political concerns of other 
 nations. I have particularly charged 
 Commodore Perry to abstain from every 
 act which could possibly disturb the tran- 
 quillity of your imperial majesty's domin- 
 ions ; " etc. In this friendly and resjiect- 
 ful strain was the whole of the presidential 
 letter written. 
 
 Abundant time having been given the 
 Japanese authorities to decide upon what 
 course they would pursue, the American 
 squadron, which had temporarily with- 
 drawn, now re-appeared in the bay of 
 Yeddo. As soon as they had anchored, a 
 number of Japanese officers went on board 
 the flag-ship to welcome the commodore 
 and his officers back, and to inform him 
 that preparations had been made for his 
 reception at Uraga, where an answer from 
 the emperor to the president's letter would 
 be delivered to him, and begged that he 
 would move his squadron down to that 
 place. To this, the commodore, tlirough 
 the captain of the fleet, peremptorily re- 
 fused to accede, on the ground that the 
 anchorage there was too much exposed at 
 such a season of the j'ear, and even inti- 
 mated that he might have to go up to 
 Yeddo, the imperial capital ! 
 
 Several days passed in fruitless argu- 
 ments on the part of the Japanese to 
 induce the commodore to j'ield this jtoint. 
 In the meantime, the surve3Mng part}' had 
 been actively employed, and, as the Jap- 
 anese began to assume an independent 
 
596 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 and intractable tone, a signal was thrown 
 out and the squadron moved up the bay, 
 to a position ten or twelve miles above the 
 ' American Anchorage,' and in front of the 
 city of Kaiiagawa. Boats were immedi- 
 ately dispatched to make further examina- 
 tions of the channel in the direction of the 
 capital ; but before they returned, the dig- 
 nitaries from Uraga arrived, and, forget- 
 ting their pertinacious obstinacy of a few 
 hours previously, good-humoredly begged 
 that an officer might be sent with them to 
 select a suitable anchorage and place of 
 reception somewhere in the vicinity of 
 where the squadron lay. The commodore 
 assenting to this, the village of Yoko- 
 hama was chosen on account of the excel- 
 lent shelter afforded by its harbor. 
 
 The squadron then present, consisting 
 of the steam-frigates Powhatan, Susque- 
 hanna, and Mississippi, sloops-of-war Mac- 
 edonian, Vandalia, and Saratoga, and 
 store-ships Southampton and Lexington, 
 anchored in a line off the town, and the 
 Japanese set to work with a will to erect 
 suitable buildings for the conferences. 
 
 On the eighth of March, the accommo- 
 dations being completed, the commodore, 
 by appointment, landed with a suite of 
 officers and an escort of five hundred sea- 
 men and marines. He was received by 
 five commissioners appointed by the em- 
 peror to coi fer with him, consisting of the 
 supreme counselor, the prince of Tsa- 
 Sima, the prince of Mimi-Saki, a member 
 of the board of revenue, and one other 
 officer of high rank. The seamen and 
 marines were all armed, and, with drums 
 beating, colors flying, bands playing at 
 intervals, and salutes fired on the an-ival 
 of the officials, the scene was indeed a 
 striking one. Thousands of Japanese sol- 
 diers crowded the shore and neighboring 
 heights, looking on with curious interest. 
 Tlie house was a plain frame-bnihling, 
 containing one large room — the audience 
 hall — and several smaller ones for the con- 
 venience of attendants, etc. The floor 
 was covered with mats, and very prettily 
 painted screens adorned the sides. Long 
 tables and benches, covered with red 
 
 woolen stuff, placed parallel to each other, 
 three handsome braziers, filled with burn- 
 ing charcoal, on the floor between them, 
 and a few violet-colored crape hangings 
 suspended from the ceiling, completed the 
 furniture of the room. The Americans 
 took their seats at one of the tables, and 
 the Japanese commissioners placed them- 
 selves at the other table opposite ; while 
 behind them both, seated on the floor on 
 their knees — their usual position, as they 
 do not use chairs — was a crowd of Jap- 
 anese officers, forming the train of the 
 commissioners. The business was carried 
 on in the Dutch language, through inter- 
 preters. 
 
 First of all, after an exchange of com- 
 pliments, the communication from the 
 emperoT to the president of the United 
 States was delivered in due form by the 
 commissioners, and then they expressed 
 themselves prepared to commence discus- 
 sions upon the various points contained in 
 the president's letter, and also to receive 
 any further propositions that might be 
 made, — the commissioners stating that, in 
 the determination of the emperor to make 
 some modification in their laws of seclu- 
 sion, he relied upon the friendly disposi- 
 tion of the Americans towards Japan, and, 
 as such negotiations ^yere entirely novel 
 to them, they would trust with confidence 
 to the commodore's superior experience, 
 to his generosit}', and his sense of justice. 
 A real desire was manifested by the Jap- 
 anese to cultivate friendly feelings with 
 their guests ; in fact, the general bearing 
 of the people had already convinced the 
 Americans that Japanese distrust of them 
 had measurably worn away. 
 
 Refreshments were served in elegantly 
 lacquered dishes — first of all, tea, which, as 
 in China, is the constant beverage ; then 
 different kinds of candy and sponge cake ; 
 and, lastly, oranges, and a jialatable liquor, 
 distilled from rice, and called saki. What 
 was left on their plates, by the Americans, 
 at the close, was wrapped in paper, and 
 given them to carry awa}', according to 
 the usual custom in Japan. The commis- 
 sioners were intelligent looking men. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 597 
 
 riclily dressed in gay, silk petticoat panta- 
 loons, and upper garments rescniMing in 
 sliape ladies' short gowns. Dark-colored 
 stockings, and two elegant swords, pushed 
 through a twisted silk girdle, finished the 
 costume. Straw sandals are worn, but are 
 always slipped off on entering the house. 
 The}^ do not co^i^er the liead, the top and 
 front part of which is shaved, and the 
 back and side hair, being brought up, is 
 tied so as to form a tail, three or four 
 inches long, that extends forward upon the 
 bald pate, terminating about half way 
 betw'een the apex and the forehead ; this is 
 
 beautiful locomotive, tender, and passenger 
 car, one-fourth the ordinary size, also a 
 mile of magnetic telegraph, the operations 
 of which were exhibited on shore. These 
 excited a great deal of interest among the 
 Japanese, particularly the telegraph, when 
 they came to comprehend its utility in the 
 transmission of intelligence, communica- 
 tions being made in their presence in the 
 English, Japanese, and Dutch languages. 
 They were also delighted with the railroad, 
 when they saw the engine and car fiying 
 along the track at the rate of twenty miles 
 an hour, but thought it would be inipossi- 
 
 NAVAL EXPEDITroX TO JAPAN UNDER COMMODORE M. C. PERRY. 
 
 a very comfortable fashion, and, were it 
 not for the quantity of grease used in it, 
 would be a cleanly one. 
 
 The negotiations proceeded harmoni- 
 ously, but, on account of the exacting cer- 
 emony peculiar to the Japanese, very 
 slowly. Thus, a question proposed had to 
 pass first through the interpreters, and 
 then tluough several officers ascending in 
 rank, before it could reach the commis- 
 sioners, every one bowing his head to the 
 floor before he addressed his superiors. 
 Among the presents intended for the 
 emperor was a small railroad track, with a 
 
 ble to construct them to advantage in 
 Japan, owing to the very uneven surface 
 of the country ! 
 
 The policy of the commodore had been, 
 on both this and his former visit, to ob- 
 serve a strict exclusiveness, and the Jap- 
 anese were, on all occasions, given to 
 understand that, with a desire on the part 
 of the Americans to establish friendly 
 relations, no unworthy restrictions or 
 exactions would be submitted to ; that 
 they came among them not to beg, but to 
 dispense favors ; that, conscious of the 
 power of their government, they were, 
 
598 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 nevertheless, desirous of meeting them on 
 equal and honorable terms, and upon no 
 other conditions whatever could they con- 
 sent to hold amicable intercourse with 
 them. The favorable effect of this course 
 was very apparent ; they were glad to be 
 admitted on board the ships, and the com- 
 missioners offered no objections to the 
 officers strolling about the country in the 
 neighborhood of the ancliorage. 
 
 Whilst the negotiations were pending, 
 the commodore gave an entertainment to 
 the commissioners, on board the flag-ship. 
 They also visited other vessels of the squad- 
 ron. The engines of the steamers were 
 put in motion, that their operation might 
 be witnessed. The ships' companies were 
 drilled at general quarters, and attention 
 was called to the caliber of the heavy 
 guns in use among western nations. 
 Their usual stoicism and self-possession 
 were not proof against such novelties, 
 and they were unable to withhold their 
 admiration and surprise. During the 
 entertainment, toasts to the emperor and 
 the president were drank with all the 
 honors, the guests did amj^le justice 
 to the sumptuous dinner, and the com- 
 pan}^ did not disperse until a very late 
 hour. 
 
 At length, after much diplomacy on the 
 part of the Japanese, — the Americans 
 strenuously refusing to accept any propo- 
 sition to go to Nagasaki, — a treaty of 
 ftmity, peace, and commei'ce, was agreed 
 to and ratified, three copies in Japanese 
 6eing delivered to Commodore Perry, and 
 three copies in English, signed by himself, 
 with Dutcli and Chinese translations, be- 
 ing delivered to the imperial commission- 
 ers. Article first of the treaty established 
 peace and amity between the United 
 States and Japan ; article second assigned 
 the ports of Simoda, in the principality of 
 Idzii, and of Makodadi, in the principality 
 of Matsmai, for the reception of American 
 ships, and where they might obtain wood, 
 water, provisions, and coal, payment to be 
 made in gold and silver; articles tliird, 
 fourth, fifth, and sixth, provide for good 
 treatment, security to property, etc., in the 
 
 case of American vessels and crews ship- 
 wrecked on the coast ; article seventh pro- 
 vided that ships of the United States 
 resorting to the ports opened to them, 
 should be permitted to exchange gold and 
 silver coin, and articles of goods, for other 
 articles of goods, under such regulations as 
 the Japanese government might tempora- 
 rily establish for that purpose, it being 
 also stipulated that the ships of the United 
 States should be permitted to carry aw^ay 
 whatever articles they received in ex- 
 change. These articles were the most 
 important embraced in the treaty, which 
 was signed March 31, 1854. The treaty 
 I)rivileges thus obtained by Commodore 
 Perry for the United States, were the 
 most liberal and advantageous of any 
 which, up to that time, had been accorded 
 by Japan to a foreign people ; but the 
 same or eqixal privileges were afterwards 
 permitted to other nations, and, subse- 
 quently, new treaties were made with the 
 United States, greatly enlarging the lib- 
 erty of trade. 
 
 As already stated above, one of the arti- 
 cles of the treaty gave to citizens of the 
 United States the right of free access to 
 the two Japanese ports of Simoda and 
 Hakodadi, and, with this, unrestricted 
 liberty in the surrounding country em- 
 braced by a radius of about sixteen English 
 miles. These, with some other stijjula- 
 tions of a certain character, it was thought 
 desirable to make a jiractical test of, before 
 the departure of the squadron from the 
 waters of Japan. 
 
 Accordingly, a few day a after the con- 
 clusion of the treaty, which were occupied 
 in completing the survej's on hand of por- 
 tions of Yeddo Bay, the sliii)S sailed for 
 Simoda, it being a short distance to the 
 south and westward, — a capital harbor, 
 and surrounded by a charming and highly 
 cultivated country. Accustomed to a sys- 
 tem of unrelenting es])ionage, it required 
 much patience and address to bring the 
 inhabitants to a proper appreciation of the 
 new condition of things ; but in a short 
 time, however, the movements of the 
 officers and men about the city and coun- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 599 
 
 try became as unhampered and safe as in 
 any part of the United States. 
 
 After making an accurate survey of the 
 harbor and its approaclios, tlie squadron 
 sailed for Hakodadi ; and, altliougli six 
 weeks liad elapsed since the signing of the 
 treaty, the authorities protested that they 
 liad heard nothing of it, and consequently 
 nothing of the intended visit of the squad- 
 ron, and gave as an evidence that the 
 women and children liad all fled to the 
 interior, frightened at the approach of the 
 ships off the harbor. On delivering a 
 letter from the commissioners, however, 
 and showing them the treaty, their anxi- 
 ety was at once allayed, and all were very 
 kindly received. The deputies dispatched 
 from Yeddo, by the commissioners, to 
 meet the commodore at Hokodadi, did not 
 arrive till he was on the eve of sailing, 
 and stated that they had been upwards of 
 fifty days on the road, although the dis- 
 tance by the air line was less than four 
 hundred miles. Still, the intercourse with 
 the authorities and inhabitants had been 
 very satisfactory, and the parting was one 
 of sincere mutual regret. 
 
 The subsequent treaty, made by Mr. 
 Townsend Harris, United States consul- 
 general at Japan, secured several addi- 
 tional ports to American commerce. Mr. 
 Harris was in direct contact with the 
 emperor, at Yeddo, during a portion of the 
 time emi)loyed in negotiating this treaty, 
 — a contact as interesting as it was unique. 
 Mr. Harris states that after passing 
 through the various fortified gateway's, up 
 to the gate of the jialace itself, he was 
 received at the entrance by two chamber- 
 lains, who conducted him to an apartment 
 where a chair had been placed for his use. 
 Tea, bon-bons, and other refreshments, 
 were offered, and a large number of princes 
 came to be presented to him. Passing 
 through a large hall, in which some three 
 or four hundred nobles of the empire, all 
 dressed in their court costume, were kneel- 
 ing, all silent and motionless as statues, 
 Mr. Harris entered the supreme audience 
 
 chamber. At this moment, a chamberlain 
 called out, ' Merrican Embassador,' and 
 then the prince of Sinano threw himself 
 down and crawled along, as the consul 
 walked in. Advancing up the room, and 
 making three bows as he proceeded, Mr. 
 Harris halted at the head of two lines of 
 men, who were prostrate on their faces ; 
 those on the right were members of the 
 council of state, with the prince of Bittsu 
 at their head, and those on the left were 
 brothers of the emperor. 
 
 His majesty was seated on a chair 
 placed on a dais, elevated some three feet 
 above the floor of the chamber. He was 
 dressed in ^-ellow silk, and wore a black 
 lacquered cap of indescribable peculiarity. 
 After a short pause, the consul made an 
 address to the emperor ; and, after a simi- 
 lar i:)ause, his majesty replied in a clear 
 and i)leasant voice. At the close of the 
 emperor's speech, the consul's secretary 
 passed the president's letter intended for 
 the emperor to Mr. Harris ; the latter 
 removed the silk cover — striped, red and 
 white, — opened the box, and displayed the 
 writing to the prince of Bittsu, who now 
 stood up, and then, closing the box, Mr. 
 Harris handed it to the prince, who placed 
 it on a lacquered stand, prepared for the 
 purpose. The prince again became pros- 
 trate, and then the emperor bowed to the 
 consul, smiling pleasantlj'^ as he did so. 
 This ended the audience, and Mr. Harris re- 
 tired from the I'oom, still facing the empe- 
 ror, and making the customar}' three bows. 
 
 From the audience chamber, the consul 
 was taken to another room, where the 
 great councilors of state congratulated 
 him on the interview just held, and ex- 
 pressed much wonder and astonishment at 
 what they called his 'greatness of heart.' 
 On asking their meaning, they told the 
 consul that they were filled with admira- 
 tion to see him stand erect, look the awful 
 'tycoon' in the face, speak plainly to him, 
 hear his reply — and all this without any 
 trepidation, or any ' quivering of the mus- 
 cles of the side ! ' 
 
LXX. 
 
 EXHIBITION OF THE INDUSTRY OF ALL NATIONS, IN 
 
 NEW YOKK.— 1853. 
 
 Construction of the Crystal Palace, a Colossal Building of Glass and Iron — Four Acres of Surface Cov- 
 ereil with tiie Treasures of Art, Science, and Mechanism, from Every Land. — Inauguration of the 
 Knterprise by Tresident 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 Pahice. — Rapid Progress of the Enterprise — Interest of Foreign Countries Enlisted. 
 — Progran)rae of Management. — Brilliant Ceremony at the Opening. — Celebrities Present: Speeches 
 Made. — Grand Hallelujah Chorus Sung. — Constant Tide of Visitors. — Beauty, Utilit}', Aniu>^ement. 
 — Attractions from Abroad. — Contributions by Monarchs. — Victoria's Beautiful OflTeriiig. — The Grand 
 Industries of Civilization. — Lesson Taught by Such a Display. — Luster Reflected on America. 
 
 " Worthy of the erandest circumstances which could be thrown around a human aseembly, worthy of this occasion, and a hundred like 
 this, is that beautiful idea, the Coronation of Labok."— Kliuu Bukkitt. 
 
 INTERIOR OF THE WORLD'S FAIR, NEW YORK. 
 
 OLLOWING the brilliant and 
 successful example of England, 
 in the erection of a colossal crys- 
 tal palace in Hyde Parle, London, 
 for a World's Fair, in 1851,— 
 and into which flowed tlie treas- 
 ures of art. science, and mechan- 
 ism, from the four quarters of tlie 
 glohe, — 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- 
 ins 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 display became, in a short 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 601 
 
 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 representatives 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- 
 d;icted 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 irom 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 Avas 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, helped also to dignify 
 it, and to take away the invidious reputa- 
 tion which would have attached to a proj- 
 ect having no higher aim than mere 
 private gain. Following up this system 
 of encouragement, the affair obtained the 
 confidence and 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 prepared 
 for the reception and transmission of those 
 splendid 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 apjn-eciation, 
 the frigate thus so generousl}^ 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 respect- 
 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- 
 fectly 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- 
 
602 
 
 OUR FIRST CEI^TURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ever, were offered, from the abridged 
 account of which, as well as of the build- 
 ing itself, i^repared by Mr. D. A. Wells, 
 it appears that Sir Joseph Paxton, the 
 architect of the London structure, fur- 
 nished one of singular beauty, but the 
 peculiar shape of the ground to be occu- 
 pied rendered it impossible to use it. Mr. 
 A. J. Downing offered 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 difficulty 
 of spanning great widths by arches. Mr. 
 Bogardus submitted a design for a circular 
 building, consisting of successive colon- 
 
 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 very difficult. Finally, 
 after much consultation, the j)lan accepted 
 was that of Messrs. 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 citj', 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 sjilendid 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 sixty-five ftet and five inches 
 long. There were three similiir 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 twentj^-one feet high, an- 
 swering to the arch of the nave. Each 
 arm of the cross was on the ground plan 
 one hundred and forty-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 sixty-seven feet, and the 
 semi-circular arch which spanned it was 
 fort^^-one feet broad. There were thus, in 
 effect, two arched naves crossing eacl\ 
 other at right angles, fort^'-one feet bi'oad, 
 sixty-seven feet high to the crown of the 
 arch, and three hundred and sixty-five feel 
 long ; and, on each side of these naves, an 
 aisle fifty-four feet broad and fortj'-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 inside from the 
 floor to the spring of the arch, 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 
 filled up with a triangular lean-to, twenty- 
 
GREAT AND IMEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 603 
 
 four feet high, which gave the ground phm 
 an octagonal shape, each side or face being 
 one liundred and forty-nine feet wide. At 
 eadi angUi 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 
 w'onderful 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 twentj'-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 stor^^, 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 iipon 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 s3-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 in<di 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 Avhich the coating became vit- 
 rified, and as durable as the glass itself ; 
 the effect produced being similar to that 
 
604 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 crj'stal 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 aiid the louvers 
 for ventilation. 
 
 But the rapid 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- 
 spectively, and occujiied 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 machinery in motion, 
 the cabinets of mining and mineralogy, 
 and the refreshment rooms, with their 
 necessar}' offices. The second story, 
 nearly four hundred and fift}' 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- 
 ployed 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 j^urely 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. 
 
 Tlie effect of the interior of the dome 
 was particularly splendid. The rays from 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 605 
 
 a golclon sun, at the center, descended 
 between the latticed ribs, and arabesques 
 of wliite and blue, relieved by stars, sur- 
 rounded the openings, the effect of the 
 whole being vory 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 industry, the Avhole 
 quantity of iron employed amounted to 
 one thousand eight hundred tons, of which 
 three hundred tons Avere Avrought and 
 fifteen hundred 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 pieces 
 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, AA^as about one 
 hundred and fifty-two thousand square feet, 
 of AA'hich a little more than ninety-four 
 thousand Avas 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 Avas nearly three 
 thousand. In the United States depart- 
 ment, the number of exhibitors was not 
 far from two thousand, the largest propor- 
 tion of AA'hom Avere included under the fol- 
 lowing classes : mineralogy, metallurgy, 
 and mining ; machinery and tools ; agri- 
 cultural implements ; hardware ; and the 
 fine arts. 
 
 The details of the exhibition, with the 
 collecting and arranging of the A-nrious 
 departments, was intrusted to the foUoAA'- 
 
 ing gentlemen : General superintendents. 
 Captains Dujjont and Davis ; arrangement 
 of space and classification, Samuel Web- 
 ber: department of mineralogy' and chem- 
 istry. Professor B. Sill i man, Jr. ; director 
 of machinery, J. E. Holmes ; director of 
 agricultural implements, 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, exjierienced in the A'arious spe- 
 cialties named. 
 
 It Avas 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 interA'ened, 
 and the opening Avas necessarily deferred 
 until the fourteenth of July, on Avhich day 
 the palace was formally inaugurated Avitli 
 appropriate ser\'ices. On a platform Avere 
 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, Avere led by Bishop 
 Wainwright ; and then a choral, written 
 for the occasion, and commencing Avith the 
 line, " Here, where all climes their offer- 
 ings send," was sung to the tune of Old 
 Hundred. Mr. SedgAvick, the president 
 of the association, then pronounced an 
 address, stating the objects and prospects 
 of the exhibition, and Avas 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 CA^ent fitly reflecting the progress, 
 power, and glory of the republic. After 
 this, the organ poured through the 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 ciA'ilization, was a 
 completed fact. The tide of humanity 
 that flowed into the palace, from day to 
 day, was constant and prodigious. 
 
606 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Such a :Ttagnificent displaj' of tlie prod- 
 ucts of human ingenuity and skill had 
 never before been witnessed in the west- 
 ern world. Kot only did America present 
 its choicest elaborations of industrj', in 
 almost infinite variety, but climes and 
 countries to the furthermost quarters of 
 the globe were there represented in count- 
 less contributions of the useful and the 
 beautiful. England and France made 
 vast and superb offerings to the great 
 transatlantic bazaar, and their example 
 was followed by the other continental 
 nations. Scandinavia, Norway, Sweden, 
 and the German Zollverein, poured forth 
 the selectest contents of their mines, 
 manufactories, workshops, and studios: 
 Among the former were iron ore, steel, 
 wrought iron for gun-barrels, stearin can- 
 dles, nickel, cobalt, copper, geological speci- 
 mens, snow-shoes, reindeer antlers, a musi- 
 cal instrument called the psalmodicon, 
 wood carvings by Norwegian peasants, 
 and for which they are celebrated. From 
 the Zollverein States, there was an attract- 
 ive variety of objects, the most interesting 
 of which were the works of art, principally 
 paintings. The first artists of modern 
 Germany contributed to this part of the 
 collection, and in such quantity as far sur- 
 passed general expectation. The names 
 of eminence which appeared in this con- 
 nection, were those of Huebner, Achen- 
 bach, Muller, Elsasser, Openheimer, and 
 from Vienna, Waldmuller and Swobada. 
 
 Conspicuous also among the foreign 
 attractions, was the celebrated picture con- 
 tributed by Queen Victoria, representing 
 the duke of Wellington presenting a birth- 
 day gift to the infant Prince Arthur, the 
 3'oungest member of the royal family. 
 This picture was painted by AVinterhalter, 
 at the queen's express desire ; as a work of 
 art alone it secured great attention, and 
 wa.s deservedly extolled by all lovers of 
 beauty and perfection. But the fact of its 
 being the queen's most valued and pet 
 picture, and forwarded, in her own name, 
 as a tribute of recognition to America's 
 great exhibition, heightened the interest 
 with which it was viewed. 
 
 The splendid colossal group of Christ 
 and his apostles, by Thorwaldsen — one of 
 the masterpieces of sculpture — was the 
 theme of much praise, drawing crowds of 
 admirers daily. The same also may be 
 said of that matchless piece of art, Kiss's 
 "Amazon," a copy from the original work 
 in bronze, erected near the museum in 
 Berlin. Next to the fine equestrian statue 
 of Washington, this of the Amazon was 
 considered the boldest and most striking 
 piece of statuary exhibited. But some of 
 the most beautiful contributions, in the 
 department of fine arts, were to be found 
 among those which, in point of size, were 
 comparatively diminutive. The veiled 
 statues, for example, seemed almost like 
 angelic creations. The cast-iron statuettes 
 from the royal iron foundry at Vienna, 
 w^ere also beautiful ; each stood on an ara- 
 besque pedestal, and was about twelve 
 inches in height, of a dead black color, 
 nearly resembling ebony, and of the most 
 exquisite quality of casting. 
 
 More grand and impressive than any- 
 thing else in the Italian department, was 
 the statue of Columbus, in the purest 
 marble, his left hand resting upon a ter- 
 restrial globe, to whicli the right pointed. 
 This superb statue was of life size, and 
 from the chisel of Del Medico, of Carrari. 
 
 An admirable little group, which riveted 
 the attention of every observer, was the 
 Cage of Cupids, all in marble, — a bevy of 
 the little creatures, represented as tired of 
 their confinement and striving to escape ; 
 this happy and unique conception was 
 executed in a style of workmanship that 
 may well bo termed marvelous. 
 
 Most amusing, to old and young, was 
 the plastic model of Gulliver in Lilliput, 
 made by A. Fleischmann, in Sonneberg, 
 Saxony. From the opening to the close 
 of the exhibition, there was a constant 
 crowd of visitors around this admirably 
 executed work. Quite different in char- 
 acter and in the kind of interest which it 
 inspired, was the collection of ancient 
 armor sent by the English government 
 from the tower of London, and which com- 
 prised a helmet worn in Henry the 
 
GREAT AND IHEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 607 
 
 Eiglith's time, or about the year 1520; an 
 ancient sliield of tlie time of King Edward 
 IV, in 1547; a helmet of tlie time of 
 Queen Elizabetli, about 15G0, and a pike- 
 man's hmce, eigliteen feet long, of tlie 
 same period ; a heavy breast-plate, one- 
 quarter of an inch thick, bearing date 
 1685 ; also, some very interesting speci- 
 mens of ancient muskets, one of which, a 
 flint lock with a plug bayonet, was used 
 during the reign of King James the Sec- 
 ond, in 1686. 
 
 From France came the rarest and most 
 delicate tapestries and porcelains, includ- 
 ing some of the celebrated Gobelin carpets, 
 sent expressly by the French government. 
 These carpets are remarkable for smooth- 
 ness, softness, and fineness of texture, as 
 well as for their strength and evenness, 
 excelling even the Persian in these re- 
 spects, and the colors and designs are per- 
 fect. Some of these carpets require from 
 five to ten years for their completion, and 
 at a cost of ten thousand to thirty thou- 
 sand dollars. None are sold, being exclu- 
 sively of government manufacture and 
 use. The largest ever made was more 
 than one thousand three hundred feet. 
 Among other exquisite pieces sent to the 
 exhibition, was the "Subject taken from 
 the Chase and Still Life," and pronounced 
 to excel in the softness, delicacy, and bril- 
 liancy, with which all the minute traits of 
 both animal and vegetable life are rendered 
 in this wonderful species of manufacture. 
 
 But no details possible within the com- 
 pass of a few pages merely, would do jus- 
 tice to the vast and varied contents of this 
 
 World's Fair, with its four acres of richly 
 teeming surface, from nearly live thousand 
 contributors; nor, indeed, has any attem[)t 
 been here made to describe those more 
 practical and extensive features of the 
 exhibition, — those grand industries, cover- 
 ing so wide and important a range in the 
 elements and activities of modern civiliza- 
 tion, — which constituted the chief scope 
 and lesson of the undertaking. Of this 
 numerous class are those ingenious and 
 useful inventions pertaining to the various 
 processes of agriculture, mines and their 
 products ; machinery for constructive, mo- 
 tive, and manufacturing jjurjioses; etc., etc. 
 For several months, the palace was open 
 to the public, according to its original 
 pltin, and subsequently it was decided to 
 make the building and its attractions per- 
 manent, the occasion being celebrated by 
 public ceremonies apjiropriate to the event. 
 Among the speakers was Elihu Burritt, 
 who, in the course of one of the most bril- 
 liant of speeches, said: "Worthy of the 
 grandest circumstances which could be 
 thrown around a human assembly, worthy 
 of this occasion and a hundred like this, is 
 that beautiful idea — the Coronation of 
 Labor. Not American labor, not Brit- 
 ish labor, not French labor, not the labor 
 of the New World or the Old, but the 
 labor of mankind as one undivided broth- 
 erhood — Labor, as the oldest, the noblest, 
 prerogative of duty and humanity." Most 
 unfortunately, this beautiful palace, so 
 wonderful in its construction, and such an 
 ornament to the chief city of America, was 
 totally destroyed by fire, in October, 1858. 
 
LXXI. 
 
 LOSS OF THE SPLENDID COLLINS STEAMSHIP APCTIC, 
 
 OF NEW YORK, BY COLLISION AVITH THE IRON 
 
 STEAMER VESTA.— 1854. 
 
 Occurrence of the Disaster in Mid-Ocean, at Noonday, in a Dense Fog — Sinking of the Noble Ship 
 Stern Foremost. — Hundreds pf Souls Engulfed in a Watery Grave — Experiences Crowded Into That 
 Awful Hour — The Wail of Agony and Despair from tlie Fated Throng — Her Non Arrival, Piiinful 
 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 all Lips — Captain Luce in 
 the Hour of Woe — Manliness of His First Order. — Ship Deserte<l by the Crew — " Every Man for 
 Himself." — A Raft Constructed, but in Vain — Courage of the Women — Not One of Their Sex 
 Saved —Instances of Cool Bravery — An Engineer's Heroic Fidelity — £30,000 for a Chance in a 
 Boat. — Pleasure Tourists on Board. — All of Mr. Collins's Family Lost. 
 
 "Thefateof theohipehallbemine."— Cattain Luce, Commander of the Arctic. 
 
 (EAVIXG Liverpool, England, on the twentieth of September, 1854, 
 the magnificent steamer Arctic, of the Collins line, plying between that cit}' and New 
 York, was, on the seventh day out, at noon, while running in a fog, totally engulfed, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 009 
 
 with hundreds of souls, millions of treas- 
 ure, and a heavy mail of incalculable value, 
 in consequence of collision with the French 
 iron screw-steamer Vesta. The Arctic 
 was commanded by Captain Luce; the 
 Vesta, by Captain Duchesne. 
 
 For many a long day after the time 
 when this superb vessel was due at New 
 York, the public mind was in agonizing 
 suspense as to her fate. From the well- 
 known immense strength and complete 
 equipment of the Arctic, this was the only 
 sort of casualty likely to be serious to her, 
 and this does not appear to have been 
 anticipated by even the most sagacious 
 sea-faring man. In every respect, the 
 success of the Collins line reflected the 
 highest honor upon American nautical 
 enterprise and skill. 
 
 The news of this lamentable catastrophe 
 carried deep and heart-rending sorrow to 
 the homes of thousands both in this coun- 
 try and in Europe. On the news reaching 
 New York, October 14th, that city as- 
 sumed the appearance of one great funeral. 
 The flags waved at half-mast throughout 
 the metropolis, upon all the public build- 
 ings and hotels, as also upon the shipping 
 in the harbor. The office of Mr. E. K. 
 Collins, the founder and proprietor of this 
 splendid line of steamships, was crowded 
 with anxious visitors from early in the 
 morning until the place was closed in the 
 afternoon. All who wished to hear of rel- 
 atives or friends called there, as the most 
 likely place to learn the fate of those for 
 whom they hoped even against hope. It 
 was a sad gathering of grief-stricken citi- 
 zens, among whom were fathers, brothers, 
 and sons, tremulously waiting for intelli- 
 gence which would either giv^e the death- 
 blow to all hope itself, or give back again 
 all the buoyancy of life by the promised 
 restoration of the lost. Often during the 
 day was heard the inquiry put to the 
 attendants in the counting-room of Mr. 
 Collins, 'Have you any news of ni}'^ 
 brother?' 'Do you think my son is 
 safe ? ' * Have you seen any of the pas- 
 sengers who could probably tell me of the 
 affair, and give me intelligence of my 
 39 
 
 father?' Many, too, with tears in their 
 eyes, grasped the hands of friends, and 
 the questions were exchanged, ' Who of 
 3'our friends were on board?' and ' AVho 
 of yours ? ' It seemed as if everybody had 
 either relations or acquaintances on board 
 the sad-fated vessel. As each report came 
 in of the passengers heard from as safe, it 
 was a picture full of interest to see the 
 eagerness with which all turned their ears 
 to hear the report read, and the faces 
 lighten up with gladness as the wished-for 
 name fell from the lips of the reader. 
 
 Some, upon receiving information of a 
 rescue of the sujiposed lost, were at once 
 engaged in receiving the congratulations 
 of those about them ; others turned around 
 to offer condolence and mingle sympathy 
 Avith the rest, for whom had come no 
 happy tidings ; and others, again, rushed 
 in haste from the building to circulate the 
 report among friends outside, or to convey 
 it to mourning families at home. Wher- 
 ever this intelligence came, it was like the 
 news of a resurrection from the dead. 
 Notwithstanding in all hope flickered 
 dimly, yet the catastrophe was so appall- 
 ing, and the chances of a rescue so few, 
 that each was filled with the greatest fear, 
 and all were alike prepared for the worst, 
 though continually hoping for the best. 
 
 Not only in the office of the Ocean Steam 
 Company, but in all places, Avere the same 
 evidences apparent, that some heavj' blow 
 had fallen upon the heart, and, crushing 
 out what was happy and peaceful, had 
 placed the burden of sorrow there. At all 
 frequented corners, along the streets, at 
 store doors, in banking-houses, groups 
 were assembled, each with the other can- 
 vassing the chances of safety for some 
 friend, or recapitulating the calamitous 
 story of the shipwreck. All business in 
 Wall street was for a time stopped ; and 
 merchants and bankers, forgetting the rise 
 of stocks and the fluctuations of trade, by 
 'one touch of nature ' were brought together 
 as participants in the general grief. The 
 Exchange was crowded during the day, but 
 the loss of the Arctic was the sole en- 
 grossing topic. 
 
610 
 
 OUK FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 At the time of the collision, Captain 
 Luce was below, working out the position 
 of tlie steamer. He immediately ran on 
 deck and saw the iron steamer under the 
 starboard bow, and passing astern, grazing 
 and tearing the guards in her progress. 
 The bows of the strange vessel seemed to 
 be literally cut or crushed off for ten feet, 
 and seeing that she must probably sink in 
 ten minutes, Captain Luce took a glance 
 at liis own ship, and believing her to be 
 comparatively uninjured, the boats were 
 cleared and the first officer and six men 
 left with a boat to board the stranger and 
 ascertain the extent of her damage. The 
 engineers were immediately instructed to 
 put on the steam pumps, and the four deck 
 pumps were worked by the passengers and 
 crew. The ship was at once headed for 
 the land, and several ineffectual attempts 
 were made to stop the leak by getting sails 
 over the bows. Finding that the leak was 
 gaining very fast, notwithstanding the 
 very powerful efforts made to keep the 
 ship free, Captain Luce resolved to get the 
 boats ready, and have as many ladies and 
 children in them as possible. 
 
 No sooner, however, had an attempt 
 been made to do this, than the firemen and 
 others rushed into the boats in spite of all 
 opposition. Seeing this state of tilings, 
 tlie captain ordered the boats astern to be 
 kept in readiness until order could be 
 restored, when, to his dismay, he saw 
 tliem cut tlie rope in the bow, and soon 
 disappear astern in the tog. Another 
 boat was broken down by persons rushing 
 in at the davits, and many were precipi- 
 tated into the sea and drowned. This 
 occurred while the captain had been en- 
 gaged in getting the starboard guard-boat 
 ready. He had placed the second officer 
 in charge, when the same scene was 
 enacted as with the first boat. He then 
 gave orders to the second officer to let go 
 and tow after the ship, keeping near tlie 
 stern, to be ready to take the women and 
 cliildren as soon as the fires were out and 
 the engine should stop. Tlie quarter-boat 
 was found broken down, but hanging l)y 
 one tackle; a rush was made for her also. 
 
 some fifteen getting in, and, cutting the 
 tackle, were soon out of sight. Not a sea- 
 man was now left on board, nor a carpen- 
 ter, — there were no tools to assist in buikl- 
 ing a raft as the only hope, — and the only 
 officer left was Mr. Dorian, the third mate, 
 who worked nobly for the success of all. 
 
 To form a raft, it became necessary to 
 get the only remaining boat — a life-boat — 
 into the water. This being accomplished, 
 Mr. Dorian, the chief officer of the boat, 
 taking care to keep the oars on board the 
 steamer to prevent those in the boat fi'om 
 leaving the ship, proceeded to work, still 
 hoping to be able to get the women and 
 children on board his boat at last. They 
 had made considerable progress in collect- 
 ing spars, when the alarm was given that 
 the ship was sinking, and the boat was 
 shoved off without oars or anything to 
 hold themselves. 
 
 In cm, instant after, at aho\it a quarter- 
 j)ast jive, P. M., the ship went down, car- 
 rying every soul on hoard irith her. 
 
 Captain Luce soon found himself on the 
 surface, after a brief struggle, with his 
 fragile child in his arms; then again 
 found himself impelled downw-ard to a 
 great depth, and, before reaching the sur- 
 face a second time, had nearly perished, 
 losing the hold of his child as he struggled 
 upwards. On thus getting upon the sur- 
 face of the water, once moi-e, the most 
 awful and heart-rending scene presented 
 itself — over two hundred men, women, and 
 children were struggling together, amid 
 pieces of the wreck, calling upon each 
 other for help, and imploring God to assist 
 them! Amid this struggling mass of 
 human beings, he discovered his child, and 
 was in the act of trying to save him, Avhen 
 a portion of the paddle-box came rushing 
 up edgewards, just grazing the captain's 
 head and falling with its whole weight 
 upon the head of the helpless child. Cap- 
 tain Luce then succeeded in getting on the 
 top of the paddle-box in company with 
 eleven others ; one, however, soon left for 
 another piece, and others remained until 
 relieved by death. Those who were left, 
 stood in water up to their knees, the sea 
 
GllEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 Gil 
 
 frequoiitly breaking over them; and the 
 sut't't'i'iiiijf P'li'ty were soon rechux'J by death 
 to Ca[»taiii Luce and one other, who, after 
 an exposure of forty-six hours, were rescued 
 by the ship Cambria, Captain Hussell, 
 bound to Quebec. 
 
 Mr. Dorian, the energetic and faithful 
 officer named above, asserted, in his ac- 
 count of the disaster, tliat if all the officers 
 and men liad remained hy the sliip, all, or 
 nearly all, of the passengers, would have 
 been saved ; that, with the masts, spars, 
 and the cutting off of the hurricane deck, 
 a raft could have been formed capable of 
 carrying the whole of them. He further 
 states that among the passengers on board 
 the Arctic he never saw men more coolly 
 courageous, and that their quiet resigna- 
 tion and implicit confidence iu the captain 
 and officers of the ship were such as it was 
 impossible to surpass. A particular illus- 
 tration of this, was the fidelity exhibited 
 by a young gentleman named Holland, 
 of Washington, who was on board the 
 steamer for the purpose of gaining instruc- 
 tion in engineering. He had been deputed 
 by the captain to fire the signal gun — 
 when all others had fled, — and, amid the 
 melancholy wail, he pursued his duty. 
 When all hope had fled, and the vessel 
 was nearly level with the sea, Holland was 
 seen busy with the gun. His last shot 
 boomed out as the Arctic sank, and he 
 went down with her — persevering in the 
 strict performance of his duty. 
 
 In the construction of the raft, the two 
 foreyard arms were cut down and lashed 
 together, making the raft about forty feet 
 long and three or four feet wide. On 
 being finished, it was launched on the lar- 
 board side, and in a few minutes after 
 there were about seventy persons clinging 
 to it, four of whom were women. Several 
 other rafts were made, but none of them 
 were so large as this. Doors, barrels, and, 
 in fact, everything that floated, came into 
 use. On some of these there were two 
 and three, but the largest could not sup- 
 port more than four or five. 
 
 How a man feels during the process of 
 drowning may be judged by the statement 
 
 of Mr. McCabe, a passenger, who says : 
 I remained on the vessel until she sank, 
 when 1 went down with her. I had been 
 employed a few minutes before with two 
 others, one of whom was called 'T(mii tin; 
 storekeeper,' in lashing some casks to- 
 gether, when I was driven away by the 
 water, which rushed in with fearful impet- 
 uosity. Jum[)ing upon the paddle-box, I 
 sj)rang on the saloon deck, and in an 
 instant was engulfed in tho surging 
 waters, which soon closed over our heads. 
 JJowii, down we sank, with our noble vessel, 
 into the bosom of the ocean, and the terri- 
 ble thought took possession of my mind 
 that I was drowning. I retained my con- 
 sciousness, however, all the time I was 
 under the water, and it was with a feeling 
 of intense joy that I found, after about 
 half a minute, that I was rapidly rising 
 towards the surface. It was all darkness 
 before, but now I could see a dim light 
 above me, and in a few seconds I was on 
 the top of the water, struggling for life. 
 Being a good swimmer, and having, be- 
 sides, the support of a-1 if e-preserver, I suc- 
 ceeded in reaching a door, wdiich was float- 
 ing a few feet from where I rose. I looked 
 around me, but there was no trace of the 
 vessel except a few loose timbers and the 
 rafts which were floating about, some with 
 and others without passengers. Finding 
 I could not retain my hold of the door with 
 safety, I left it and swam to a barrel 
 which lay a few feet from me, and from 
 this again I swam to the large raft, to 
 which some seventy persons were clinging. 
 The sea, though not strong, was rough, and 
 the waves, as they dashed remorselessly 
 over the raft, washed away a portion of its 
 living freight. It was an awful scene — a 
 multitude of human beings, in the midst of 
 the ocean, without the slightest hope of 
 assistance, while every minute one by one 
 was dropping into a watery grave, from 
 sheer exhaustion. Those who had life- 
 preservers did not sink, but floated with 
 their ghastly faces upwards, reminding 
 those who still remained alive, of the fate 
 that awaited them. Of those who dropped 
 away, some floated off and were gnawed 
 
612 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-187G. 
 
 and eaten by fishes, while otliers were 
 washed under the raft, where their faces 
 could be seen through the openings, as 
 they were swayed to and fro by the waves. 
 The raft at one time was so crowded that 
 many had to hold on by one hand. Very 
 few words were spoken by any, and the 
 only sound to be heard was the splash of 
 the waters or the heavy breathing of the 
 poor sufferers, as they tried to recover 
 their breath, after a wave had passed over 
 them. Nearly all were submerged to their 
 armpits, while a few could with great dif- 
 ficulty keep their heads above the surface. 
 The women were the first to go ; they 
 
 his pocket, but finding this impossible, on 
 account of being in so cramped a position, 
 placed it between his teeth until overtaken 
 by a tremendous wave, when he lost his 
 hold upon it and it was Avashed away. 
 Another, Avho had on an oiled silk coat, 
 called on McCabe, for heaven's sake, to 
 render assistance, as his strength was rap- 
 idly failing, and he must fall off if not 
 relieved. As he was about four or five 
 feet distant, it was difficult to reach him, 
 but after considerable exertions this was 
 done, McCabe helping him by the use of a 
 knee, until, becoming himself quite faint, 
 the hapless man was, by necessity, left to 
 
 l^USS OF TJlli CULL1>S STEAMSinP AKCXIC, 
 
 were unable to stand the exposure more 
 than three or four hours. They all fell off 
 the raft without a word, except one poor 
 girl, who cried out in intense agony, " Oh, 
 viy 2^oor motlicr and sisters ! " 
 
 At the expiration of some eighteen 
 hours, there were not more than tliree or 
 four persons remaining upon it, including 
 McCabe. One of these gave to the latter 
 what appeared to be a small map, but 
 which the giver was understood to say was 
 a sort of title-deed to his property. In a 
 few moments after thus transferring it, 
 he, too, unloosed his hold, and was added 
 to the number that floated about the raft. 
 McCabe endeavored to get the paper into 
 
 BV COLLISION AT NOONKAV, IN .MID-OCEAN. 
 
 his fate. Poor fellow, he promised if he 
 ever got to New York alive, he would 
 reward his deliverer well. He clung with 
 terrible tenacity to life, but he, too, 
 dropped off in his turn. 
 
 McCabe was now the only one left upon 
 the raft — not a solitary person being alive, 
 of all the seventy who, within a few hours, 
 were his companions. The night of the 
 second day was about closing on him, and 
 during the whole time he had been in the 
 water, he had not eaten a particle of any- 
 thing nor drank a drop. His strength 
 was beginning to give way, and his sight 
 had liecome so dim as to render objects 
 invisible a few feet off — even the ghastly 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 613 
 
 faces of the dead tliat looked up from 
 under the raft were hardly diseeriiible. 
 Determined to make one more effort for 
 life, he raised him.seif on his knees upon 
 the raft, and through the dusk of evening 
 saw, or thought he saw, a vessel. At this, 
 his strength revived, and in a few mo- 
 ments was heard the voice of some one 
 approaching in a boat. And so it proved. 
 After twenty-six hours of exposure, he was 
 rescued from a watery grave, by a boat 
 manned by jNIr. Dorian, some sailors, and 
 C.iptain Graun, one of the Arctic pas- 
 
 sengers. 
 
 A lucid description of the whole scene, 
 as given by Captain Grann, who was below 
 at the time of the collision, states that 
 upon going on deck, the Vesta was on the 
 starboard quarter of the Arctic, about half 
 a cable's length off, with her starboard 
 bow completely stove, from stem to fore- 
 rigging, to the water's edge. The Vesta 
 lowered a boat, which got under the star- 
 board Avheel of the Arctic, and was 
 swamped. When I came on deck (contin- 
 ues Captain Grann,) they were lowering 
 away the boats. Both anchors were on 
 the starboard side of the deck, and 1 went 
 aft and asked Captain Luce if I should 
 remove the anchors to the port side, as all 
 of the ship's officers were aft, lowering 
 away the boats and rigging pumps. He 
 gave orders so to do, and, with the assist- 
 ance of some passengers and a few of the 
 crew, I carried the same into execution. I 
 then went on the topgallant forecastle and 
 examined into the state of her bows. 
 Could see no evidences of her being stove, 
 excepting some bad chafes, the oakum 
 hanging out, and a piece of the iron boat 
 protruding from the planks. As soon as 
 I discovered this, I reported it to Captain 
 Luce, xoldcJi teas the first known of the 
 Arctic having received serious damage. 
 He then requested me to go below and 
 ascertain, if possible, where the leak was. 
 Went below and broke cargo — could hear 
 water rushing in. The carpenter was 
 ordered below between decks to stop the 
 leak, and commenced cutting away the 
 ceiling. I went to work with crew and 
 
 passengers, breaking out cargo from lower 
 hold, but very soon discovered that it 
 would be impossible to stop the leak, as the 
 water was over the cargo. I then left the 
 hold and went on deck, wliere I learnt that 
 the lower fires were out, and from this time 
 all order and discipline ceased on board. 
 The water was up to the lower deck, and 
 gaining rapidly, passengers and crew still 
 laboring at the pumps. 
 
 There were six boats on board. The 
 first boat was lowered with the chief mate, 
 boatswain, and three men ; she was low- 
 ered to ascertain the condition of the other 
 steamer, and was left behind on its being 
 found that the Arctic was in a sinking 
 condition. Two of the quarter-boats were 
 taken by the second and fourth officers 
 and crew. Another boat was taken by the 
 engineers, and was supplied with pi'ovis- 
 ions, water, etc. ; there were only eight or 
 nine in this boat, and, though it was not 
 full, they would not permit any one else 
 to come on board — indeed, it was said that 
 revolvers were threatened to be used on 
 this occasion. The fourth quarter-boat 
 was hauled alongside by Captain Luce, 
 the third mate, and Captain Grann. Into 
 this boat, placed in charge of one of the 
 ship's quartermasters. Captain Luce put a 
 number of ladies ; immediately, several of 
 the gentlemen passengers made a rush and 
 jumped into the boat, and, as it was full, 
 the painter was cut and the boat drifted 
 astern. The sixth boat was on the quar- 
 ter-deck, and, a lot of spare spars being 
 secured for making a raft, this boat was 
 launched, for the purpose of aiding the 
 construction — the oars being taken out of 
 her, so that those who got on board should 
 not desert while the lashing of the raft 
 was going on. This latter work being 
 completed as far as was possible, the boat, 
 which was now full, was shoved off from 
 the raft, and, in about ten minutes after, 
 the noble steamer went down, stern fore- 
 most. One fearful shriek tvent vp to 
 heaven from that agonized covipavy, as 
 they were sivei^t forivard against the 
 smoke-stack ; and then all was over. 
 
 At the time of the collision, the passen- 
 
G14 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 gers had gathered in the cabin, prepara- 
 tory to luncheon, and some of them were 
 ensased in drawinoj the numbers of the 
 daily lottery, the chances of the same 
 being based upon the number of miles run 
 during the preceding twenty-four hours. 
 The Arctic was then running at the rate 
 of twelve and one-half miles an hour, the 
 usual speed in foggy weather in that lati- 
 tude. Two men were on the lookout, sta- 
 tioned on the forecastle, and there was all 
 the usual precaution against such a calam- 
 ity. The advancing vessel was seen but a 
 moment before she struck, but the instant 
 she was discovered through the dense fog, 
 the order was given, "Hard starhoard the 
 helm and reverse the e7if/l)ie." The order 
 was as quickly obeyed ; and, though at 
 first there was no realization of the actual 
 damage done, the terror and confusion 
 became very great when the extent of the 
 injury was disclosed. The conduct of 
 Captain Luce was calm, manly, courageous ; 
 to the last he declared, " The fate of the 
 ship shall he viiiie." Catherwood, the 
 eminent artist, Professor Reed, and Messrs. 
 Sandford and Benedict, the well-known 
 jurists, were eai-\y among the lost. 
 
 On its appearing that the Arctic was 
 inevitably lost, the captain put Mrs. Col- 
 lins — wife of the owner of the line — and 
 her children, with other women, children, 
 and passengers, into a boat which was on 
 the larboard side of the ship, near the 
 W'heel-house ; a little biscuit and water 
 were provided, but they were without 
 compass, and not a single man able to 
 guide their course. Unfortunately, at the 
 moment of lowering this boat, one of the 
 pulleys gave way, the other remaining 
 entangled. The boat was precipitated 
 nearly perpendicularly, and all who were 
 in it, excepting three persons, were thrown 
 into the sea and lost. At such a moment, 
 a misfortune like this was without a 
 remedy. 
 
 The overhauling of the boat, now empty, 
 was achieved at last, and it was impossi- 
 ble to regulate her destiny, by any mere 
 official orders. Passengers and sailors, 
 without ceremony, jumped into the boat, 
 
 which was in a few seconds filled. M. de 
 Grammont tried to jump, but fell into the 
 sea, and would immediately have perished, 
 had it not been for his servant, who, by a 
 superhuman effort, hoisted him on board. 
 Dulaquais (the servant) regained the boat 
 by means of a rope, inviting the master to 
 follow his example, but the boat had 
 already got under yvay. Dulaquais made 
 a great jump, and fell like an inert mass 
 into the boat. M. de Grammont, from 
 lack of strength to imitate him, was obliged 
 to allow the precious movnent to pass 
 unimproved which separated safety from 
 death. 
 
 One passenger offered thirty thousand 
 pounds sterling, or one hundred and fift}^ 
 thousand dollars, if the boats would put 
 back to save him. They turned to do so, 
 but before they reached him he sank, 
 uttering, as he disappeared, the most 
 piercing moan of deathly agony. 
 
 Another instance was that of a man 
 who, just as one of the boats was shoving 
 oft" from the Arctic, called piteously to a 
 friend in the boat, and, bidding him good- 
 bye, requested him to bear his love to his 
 wife in Philadelphia, and tell her he was 
 gone. 
 
 Mr. Brennan, one of the engineers, had 
 an opportunity to be saved in the chief 
 engineer's boat, but he had charge of a 
 boy whom he would not abandon ; both, 
 however, were sa^'ed in another boat. An 
 unknown gentleman threw a heavy jiurse 
 of gold from the ship to the boj', after the 
 latter got into the boat. 
 
 The following statement, made b}' a 
 gentleman \\ho was saved from the wreck, 
 exhibits human nature in one of its 
 strange phases, in view of so terrible a 
 crisis: — Among our passengers w^as a gen- 
 tleman about thirty-five to thirty-eight 
 years 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 w-as 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 G15 
 
 (under promise of secrecy, whicli the ex- 
 tent of tills communication does not vio- 
 late), to explain how circaunstances of a 
 distressing nature had induced his expa- 
 triation. Subsequent conversations re- 
 vealed to me that blighted liopes 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 passengers 
 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 nien 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 safety, 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 stopj^ing 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 Sej^tember 30th. 
 
 For many days, as already remarked, 
 the terrible fate of the Arctic, and the 
 many melancholy incidents connected with 
 it, 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. 
 
LXXII. 
 
 ASSAULT ON THE HON. CHARLES SUMNER, BY HO^ 
 
 PRESTON S. BROOKS.— 185G. 
 
 Twenty Sudden and Terrible Blows, with a Solid Gutta Percha Cane, Dealt upon Mr. Sumner's Bare 
 Head. — He Stajrgers 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. 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 Constitution, which hsB been outraged — of the Laws trampled down— of JuRtice banished— of Humanity deirraded— 
 jr Peace deKtmyed— of Freedom crushed to the earth; and in the name ot the Heavenly Father, whose service is perfect Freedom, i make 
 Ui.8 la»t appeal."— Senator Sumner's Speech, ••Tue Crime Aqainst Kansas." 
 
 LIBEIITV von KANSAS. 
 
 ISTORY records but one instance of a great 
 and honored statesman — one of tlie foremost 
 men of the age, in fact, in his advocacy of 
 human rights — being struck down b}^ tlie 
 instruments of bloody A'iolence, while in his 
 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 Ma}', 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 biit five succeeding years, 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 lo!;g 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 017 
 
 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 arrayed 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 the 
 Hon. A. P. Butler, senator from South 
 Carolina, delivered some days 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, 
 IMr. Miller of Missouri. After the ad- 
 journment, as is the custom of some sena- 
 tors, Mr. Sumuer 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 
 j\[r. 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 
 guttapercha 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. 
 The cane used was a deadly weapon, being 
 as hard as hickory or whalebone ; it was 
 one inch in diameter at the larger end, 
 and tapered to the diameter of about five- 
 eighths of an inch at the smaller end, and 
 so violently did Brooks deal his blows 
 upon tlie defenseless senator's head, that 
 the deadly weapon was shattered into 
 man}' pieces by the time the assault ter- 
 minated. 
 
 Mr. Morgan and Mr. Murray, of the 
 New York delegation, were in the front 
 ante-chamber, and, hearing the noise, 
 went in. Mr. INIurray 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 of 
 the 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 JMr. 
 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. 
 
G18 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 But for the interference of Messrs. Murray 
 and Morgan, Mr. Sumner would, have cer- 
 tainly been killed, under the remorseless 
 and unceasing blows of his assailant ; the 
 former seized Brooks around the waist, 
 while 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 ujjon 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 
 
 ^. fi ^ 
 
 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, 
 unless he made an ample apology for tlie 
 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 his 
 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, Mr. 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 b}^, when Brooks commenced the 
 attack, and Edmundson took a position in 
 an ante-room adjoining ; and, as soon as 
 an attempt was made b}^ the bystanders 
 to protect Mr. Sumner, KcflU 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 lawfullj'^ spoken in debate in the 
 senate chamber, not once being ruled otit 
 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 da}', 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 public 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 
 
GRKAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 tJlU 
 
 defending himself, Mr. Preston S. Broolvs, 
 a member of the house from Soutli Ciuo- 
 lina, approached liim 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 ^Ir. Brooks, which made him 
 almost senseless and unconscious ; endeav- 
 oring, however, to protect himself, in 
 rising from his chair, his desk was over- 
 thrown; find 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 unable 
 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 
 onl^'^ 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 
 lionor 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 daj'- 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 fipj)ertaining to his 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 blows, 
 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 whii h bullies and 
 prize-fighters respect. What ! strike a 
 man when he is pinioned — when he cannot 
 respond to a blow! Call 3'ou that chiv- 
 alry ? In what code of lionor 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 Avaited 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 Thursda^^, the 22d of Ma}-. 
 After some formal business, a message was 
 received from the house of representatives, 
 announcing tlie death of a member of that 
 body from Missouri. This was followed 
 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 rest 
 of the senators, on the adjournment, I con- 
 
620 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 tinned in my seat, occupied with my pen, 
 and while thus intent, in order to be in 
 season for the mail, which was soon to 
 close, I was approached by several persons, 
 wlio desired to converse with me, but I 
 answered them promptly and briefly, ex- 
 cusing myself for the reason that I was 
 engaged. Wlien 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. Mv attention at this 
 time was so entirely drawn fi"om other 
 subjects that, though there must have 
 been many persons in the senate, I saw 
 nobody. While thus intent, with my 
 head l)ent over my writing, I was ad- 
 dressed !»y a jierson 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 on South Car- 
 olina, and Mr. Butler, who is a relative of 
 mine.' While these words were still i)ass- 
 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 aftei-- 
 
 wards w^as done almost unconsciously, 
 acting under the instincts of self-defense. 
 Witli 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, ly 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 lobby, I recognized Mr. 
 Slidell, of Louisiana, Avho 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, 
 j)resi*dent 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, IVIr. 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 luid said of Senator Butler, of 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 621 
 
 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 fi'om 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 protest against so 
 cowardly and murderous an attempt to su^h 
 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- 
 th}'^ 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 Avealthy 
 wei'e freel}' 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, b}' 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- 
 resentingr 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 
 liis name on a tablet. Figures represent- 
 ing Victory were upon the arms of the 
 vase, heralding the triumph of Freedom. 
 Above the inscription to j\Ir. Sumner, and 
 in tlwe 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 ai)i)ropriate emblems of Liberty 
 and Slavery. 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 compassion- 
 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 da}', and he wa« 
 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 in the blows dealt upon the head of 
 Senator Sumner. These presentation 
 canes were all elegantl}' 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 whieh he 
 most ])rized, 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 by the senate made a report, 
 but the only action taken by that body 
 was to ti'ansmit 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. tlie power to 
 arrest, tr}'^, 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 Mv. 
 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 
 
622 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 assumed all the responsibility taken by his 
 gallant relative. Mr. Brooks assaulted 
 Mr. Sunnier with no otiier purpose than 
 to disgrace him. Mr. Brooks was one of 
 the best tempered lellows, 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 aciounts 
 it was fortunate he (Butler) was not here 
 
 ous, Mr. Butler exclaimed from his seat, 
 " You are a liar J' 
 
 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 
 pi-eferring to throw himself on " the 
 right of self-defense, in its broadest 
 
 sense. 
 
 Mr. Burliiigame was also chal- 
 
 lenged by Brooks, and the latter imme- 
 
 wMf 
 
 "5 
 
 ASSAULT OX SENATOR SdMXER, BY P. S. BROOKS. 
 
 at tlie time, for he did not know what he 
 might have done. To be sure, it was 
 thirty or forty years 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) wei'e a young man, 
 he icoald have Ifft li'uii (Sumner) /// a 
 worse condition tlian he is iioic.'^ In re- 
 sponse to Senator Wilson's denunciation 
 of the act as brutal, cowaidly, 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 batter}', in his attack 
 on IMr. 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 
 
GREAT AND MEM0IIAI5LE EVENTS. 
 
 623 
 
 imposing a fine of three hundred dolLars, 
 paid it on tlie spot. 
 
 The committee of investigation ap- 
 pointed by the house of representatives 
 reported resolutions of expulsion against 
 JSrooks, and censure against Keitt and 
 Edmundson. The resolution to expel 
 ]i rooks received, after a violent debate, one 
 hundred and twenty-one votes, and there 
 were ninetj'-five votes in the negative ; a 
 two-thirds A'ote 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 who 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 ordinary 
 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 
 Avhat I should have regretted for the re- 
 mainder of my life. (A voice : He would 
 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. Speaker, I announce to you and to 
 the house, I am no longer a member of the 
 thirty-fourth congress." Senators Butler 
 and Mason sat 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 lol:)l>y, 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 gratitude. An elec- 
 tion was soon held to fill the vacancy 
 caused by his resignation, and he was 
 elected by a unanimous vote. Once more, 
 
 PRESTON S. BROOKS. 
 
 namel}^, 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 suddenly 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 after the decease of 
 Brooks, Senator Butler died at Edgefield 
 court-house, S. C, in the sixty-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 safet}'^, he was 
 
624 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 carried into the country, remaining for 
 some time under the hospitable roof of 
 Hon. F. P. Blair, at Silver Spring. In 
 the spring of 1857, he went to Europe by 
 the advice of his phj'sicians, and there 
 passed some months, returning in the 
 rtutumn, 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 ujDon hiiu, 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 Europe, 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 
 Hay ward, 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 jjut himself in the 
 hands of Doctor Brown-Sequard, the cele- 
 brated physiologist, 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 an_y serious 
 remaining injury, the effects of the origi- 
 nal commotion there were still manifest in 
 an effusion of liquid about the brain and 
 in a slight degree of congestion, chietly 
 confined to the membrane around the 
 brain; it was also found that the spine 
 was suffering in two places from the effect 
 of what is called contre-conp. Mr. Sumner 
 being seated and inclined over his desk at 
 the time of the assault, the blows on his 
 liead took effect by counter-stroke, or com- 
 municated 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 sj'stem were directly 
 acted upon, would not always leave the pa- 
 tient exjjosed to a relajjse. He proceeded, 
 therefore, at once, to apply fire to the hack 
 of the neck and along the spine. " I have 
 applied " — writes M. Sequard to a friend, 
 at this time — "six nioxas to Senator 
 Sumner's neck and back, and he has borne 
 these exceedinrjhj painful api>lications with 
 the greatest courage and patience. You 
 know that a *moxa' is a burning of the 
 skin with inflamed agaric (jimadoii,) cot- 
 ton wool, or some other very combustible 
 substance. I had never seen a man bear- 
 ing with such a fortitude as Mr. Sumner 
 has shown, 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 phj-sicians 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- 
 voyed to my hotel and laid on my bed. 
 After my walk, I find myself obliged again 
 to take to my bed, for two liours before 
 dinner. But this whole treatment is in 
 pleasant contrast with the protracted suf- 
 ferings from fire which made my summer 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 625 
 
 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 
 •liities 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 baMotings, 
 running through several weeks, — be was 
 almost unanimously re-elected in 1857; 
 again, in 18G3, 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 ])hilan- 
 thropist, ma}^ be said to be Avorld-wide. 
 Such are time's impressive changes. 
 
 40 
 
LXXIII. 
 
 HORRIBLE AND MYSTERIOUS MURDER OF DOCTOR 
 BURDELL, A WEALTHY NEW YORK DENTIST, 
 IN HIS OWN OFFICE.— 1857. 
 
 Fifteen Ghastly Stabs Upon His Body. — Arrest and Trial of Mrs. Cunningham, His Landlady and Mis- 
 tress, for the Crime. — Her Claim to be His Widow and Heiress — She Secretly Borrows an Infant, to 
 which She Pretends to Give Hirth as Doctor Burdell's Child. — Disgraceful Revelations of Intrigue and 
 Infamy in Fashionable Life. — Siiocking Butchery of the Doctor. — Found Dead by His Office Boy. — 
 Bloody Appearance of the Room — Mrs. Cunningham's Character — Unscrupulous and Strong- 
 Minded. — Her Rei)eated Threats. — Jealousies, Hostilities, Schemings. — Doctor Burdell in Fear for His 
 Life. — Speaks of Her with Terror — The Murder Announced to Mrs. Cunningham. — She Embraces 
 and Kisses the Corpse — Dark Case for Her in Court. — Insufficient Proof; Acquitted — New Chapter 
 in the Drama. — Her Assumed Pregnancy. — Offers One Tliousand Dollars for an Infant. — How it 
 was Obtained. — Her Mock Confinement. — Joy Over " Her Dear Baby." — Exposure of the Daring 
 Plot — Greatest of New York Murders. — The Robinson and Jewett Case. 
 
 " So perfect n drama, so consistent throushnut. so marvelnusly conceived and wondrously executed, so regular and obedient to the laws 
 of art, aoes not exist in all the annals of criiue."— Uahpeu's Welkly. 
 
 UITE equal, in startling and bloody atrocity, to the darkest deeds on the crim- 
 inal calendar of our first century, was the murder, on the night of the thirti- 
 eth of January, 1857, of Dr. Harvey Burdell, a noted dentist of 
 New York city, at his own house, on Bond street, — one of the 
 wealthy and fashionable localities of that metropolis. He was 
 found dead, in his office, on Saturday morning, 
 January thirt^^-first, by his errand-boy, who had 
 come, as usual, about half-jiast eight o'clock, to 
 attend to his office duties. The bodj', when dis^ 
 covered, M'as lying upon the floor, shockingly muti^ 
 latcd, and surrounded with clots of blood, and the 
 door and walls of the room besmeared with l)loo(\ 
 also. The inmates being alarmed. Dr. John AV. 
 Francis, a resident in the immediate vicinity, was 
 called in to make an examination. He found a 
 large nunil)er of deep wounds, almo.st any of which 
 would cause death, had been inflicted with some 
 sharp instrument on the doctor's person. There 
 was also a mark, as of a ligature, around the neck 
 of the deceased ; a mark quite distinct on the front 
 TRIAL OF MKs. cuNNiNoiiAM. aud on either side, but disappearing altogether 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 627 
 
 before reacliiiig the back part of the neck. 
 Tlie whole gave the impression that tlio 
 ligature had been applied from behind and 
 that the neck had been drawn backward. 
 
 On the announcement that so frightful 
 and mj'sterious a murder had been com- 
 mitted ujion the person of so noted a pro- 
 fessional citizen, the agitation of the 
 community was indescribable. Nor was it 
 long before the information became widely 
 known, that Doctor Burdell's landlady, 
 Mrs. Cunningham, sustained the relation of 
 mistress to him, tliat she claimed to have 
 been secretly married to him, that she 
 was sufficiently unscrupulous and strong- 
 minded to engage in an intrigue against 
 his fortune if not his person ; and that the 
 house, though respectable and aristocratic 
 externally, was, within, the scene of con- 
 tijuial bickerings, hostilities, jealousies, 
 and schemes — of espionage througli key- 
 holes, of larcenies of papers, of suspicions 
 among the servants, of quarrels in the 
 entries, and of indecorums in the chambers. 
 Though Doctor Burdell was the owner of 
 this house, it was not his boarding-house, 
 the whole dwelling — with the exception of 
 the doctor's office — being occupied by Mrs. 
 Cunningham and her children, together 
 with a few boarders and lodgers. 
 
 Almost immediately, suspicion fastened 
 upon the inmates of the house, and this 
 feeling deepened into conviction, as the 
 coroner's investigation progressed. The 
 substance of this testimony was, that Doctor 
 Burdell, whose mistress Mrs. Cunningham 
 was known to have been, was not at the 
 time of his decease on good terms with 
 her, and considered that he stood in 
 danger of his life from her and her 
 family. Slie wanted him to marry her, 
 was actuall}^ married by Rev. Mr. Mar- 
 vine to some man who personated Doctor 
 Burdell, and Mrs. Cunningham declared 
 in her evidence on the inquest that she 
 was Mrs. Burdell ; but various circum- 
 stances went to show that Burdell was not 
 the man, and that the certificate of mar- 
 riage was based upon a fraud. One month 
 after this marriage, Mrs. Cunningham 
 desired her attorney to renew a suit 
 
 against Burdell for breach of promise; 
 said suit having been withdrawn previ- 
 ously, on terms favorable to Mrs. Cunning- 
 ham. This fact seemed to dispose of the 
 alleged marriage, and to convict Mrs. Cun- 
 ningham of having, on the morning after 
 Burdell's death, fraudulently assumed to 
 be his widow. It also appeared that 
 Burdell, from his great animosity to, and 
 fear of the Cunninghams, desired to get 
 them out of his house, gave them notice to 
 quit, and was to have leased the house to 
 another party named Stansbur}-, on the 
 day following the one on which he was 
 murdered, — an arrangement Avhich, if car- 
 ried into effect, w^ould have rendered Mrs. 
 Cunningham and her daughters destitute 
 and without a home. Finally, a loaded 
 revolver and a safe-key were found in Mrs. 
 Cunningham's possession, which belonged 
 to Doctor Burdell. 
 
 On the evidence thus elicited, Mrs. Cun- 
 ningham, and Messrs. Eckel and Snod- 
 grass, two of her boarders, were committed 
 to prison, as parties concerned in the 
 frightful deed. Mr. Eckel was a man of 
 thirty-four years, being just two years 
 younger than Mrs. Cunningham; and 
 Snodgrass was a young man of about 
 twenty. They each and all protested their 
 entire innocence, and Mrs. Cunningham, 
 from the very first, carried out her as- 
 sumed ignorance and guiltlessness of the 
 murder with an adroitness which, judged 
 by the subsequent developments in the 
 case, must be regarded as unequaled in the 
 annals of crime. Thus, on first being 
 informed of the news of the murder, she 
 began to cry most piteously. Mr. Snod- 
 grass held her awhile on the bed. Mrs. 
 Cunningham then seemed crazy, and tore 
 her hair vehementl3^ Doctor Main, who 
 entered the room immediately after the 
 family is supposed to have first heard of 
 the dreadful tragedy, stated that the 
 youngest of the two young ladies laj' across 
 the bed, and appeared to be in great 
 agony, Mrs. Cunningham at the same time 
 exclaiming, " He is dead, and I alwaj'S 
 liked him, and thought a great deal of 
 him." William Cunningham testifiec? 
 
628 
 
 OUE FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 that he did not know what his mother said 
 first, that she was running round the 
 room, not knowing what to do, and that 
 his sister fainted away on the bed. Snod- 
 grass, in Iiis evidence on this point, said: 
 "I was sitting in Mrs. Cunningham's 
 room, playing the banjo ; tlie two Misses 
 Cunningham were there, and Mrs. Cun- 
 ningham. The cook came up and said, 
 ' You are enjoying j'ourselves so, and tiie 
 doctor is dead down stairs ! ' They all 
 (Snodgi'ass added) began to halloo. I 
 immediately started down stairs, to see if it 
 was true. I opened the door and saw Doc- 
 tor Burdell ; I met Mrs. Cunningham on 
 the stairs as I returned. I do not remem- 
 ber that she said anything. Miss Helen 
 Cunningham fainted on the chair; her 
 sister Augusta seemed excited, but did not 
 faint. Mrs. Cunningham wanted to go 
 down ; I would not let her." Doctor Rob- 
 erts testified that Snodgrass sat by the chair, 
 holding Mrs. Cunningham, who was in a 
 great state of excitement, as were also the 
 daughters. " I tried to Cjuiet them, staid 
 a few moments, and went down and found, 
 as we thought, that he had died in a fit. 
 I then immediately went up to them, and 
 told the ladies that it was not so bad as 
 they imagined — that he had probably died 
 a natural death ; then Mrs. Cunningham 
 appeared to be a little more easy, and said, 
 ' Did he die a natural death ? ' Hon. 
 David Ullman, who hired a lodging-room 
 in the house, stated that, after the first 
 outcry, he heard Mrs. Cunningham dash 
 herself against the door separating the 
 rooms, and exclaim, 'Doctor Burdell is 
 dead ! Oh, Mr. Ullman, Doctor Burdell is 
 dead ! ' That the doctor was the victim of 
 a most foul murder, fifteen dreadful stabs 
 on his body at once proved. On afterward 
 seeing the corpse, Mi's. Cunningham threw 
 herself dramatically upon it, and wept con- 
 vulsively as she embraced the ghastly 
 form. 
 
 The trial of Mrs. Cunningham, for the 
 alleged commission of the murder, created 
 an intense excitement throughout the 
 land, the case being scarcely less cele- 
 brated than the astounding murder of 
 
 Doctor Parkman by Professor Webster, 
 the terrible butqhery of the printer Adams 
 by John C. Colt, and the weird and m3-s- 
 terious assassination of that beautiful but 
 infamous courtesan, Helen Jewett. In- 
 deed, the profound sensation produced by 
 the tragedy reached the farthermost coun- 
 tries on the other side of the Atlantic, and, 
 in almost every foreign journal, the cir- 
 cumstances of the event were published in 
 detail. 
 
 It appeared, in regard to Doctor Burdell, 
 that he Avas about forty -five years of age, 
 had acquired a handsome property in the 
 practice of his profession, was a director of 
 the Artisans' Bank, supposed to be unmar- 
 ried, and owned the house in which he 
 
 DOCTOR BURDELL. 
 
 was murdered. He was a man of large 
 frame, full habit, fond of wine and women's 
 society, and, though penurious, a frequent 
 visitor at houses of pleasure. He was a 
 graduate of the Philadel[)hia Medical Col- 
 lege. Mrs. Cunningham was a woman of 
 fine looks, a native of Jamaica, L. I. Mr. 
 Cunningham, a distiller, had died some 
 years previously, his Avidow drawing ten 
 thousand dollars on a life insurance which 
 he had effected. Since that event, she led 
 a somewhat vagrant life, residing in differ- 
 ent places, under different names. She 
 came from Saratoga in the autumn of 1855, 
 when a Mrs. Jones was Doctor Burdell's 
 tenant ; and, on the strength of a previous 
 acquaintance with him, she obtained tem- 
 porary accommodations in the liouse, and 
 afterward, when Mrs. Jones removed to 
 other quarters, she took charge for the 
 
GREAT AND IVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 629 
 
 doctor. Some time subsequently, she niis- 
 curried, and laid tlie paternity to Doctor 
 Bardell. A few months before the murder 
 serious difficulties arose between the par- 
 ties, Mrs. Cunningham being charged by 
 the doctor with purloining jiapers from his 
 safe. Such scandalous scenes ensued tliat, 
 on one occasion, a policeman was called in. 
 The woman reproached Doctor Burdell 
 with not fulfilling his promise of marrying 
 her. She commenced a suit against 
 Doctor Burdell, for breach of promise, 
 which was ultimately adjusted. She sub- 
 sequently produced a certificate of mar- 
 riage with the doctor on the 28th of Octo- 
 ber, 1856. 
 
 Several witnesses testified to the great 
 apprehensions for his personal safety ex- 
 pressed by Doctor Burdell shortly before 
 his death — fears of conspiracy and violence 
 from persons in the house. To his friend 
 Mr. Stevens, he said, " I am actually 
 afraid to stay in my own house." Mr. 
 Stevens remarked, " You are a man of 
 means ; 1 would not stay if I feared for 
 my life." The doctor said he was cau- 
 tious, and he thought he would stay till 
 May, and get the house clear. To one of 
 the female servants he also said that Mrs. 
 Cunningham had threatened his life — that 
 she would take his life if he told some 
 things about her and her daughter. On 
 the day preceding the evening of the trag- 
 edy, he had besought his friend. Doctor 
 Blaisdell, to come and stay with him until 
 May — to come that very night and sleep 
 with him, as he did not feel safe un- 
 der the circumstances. Doctor Blaisdell 
 agreed to do so, but was detained at home 
 by company. On the same day, likewise, 
 he remarked to the wife of Mr. Stevens, 
 speaking of Mrs. Cunningham, " She 
 thinks I am an old bachelor worth about 
 one hundred thousand dollars, and do not 
 know what I want m3^self. She is deter- 
 mined I shall marry her, and I am deter- 
 mined I shall not; out of the house she 
 shall go." 
 
 That the murder took place in the 
 course of the night admitted of no doubt. 
 The inmates of the house, except Mr. 
 
 Till man, had retired to rest before half-past 
 eleven o'clock ; Mr. Ullman came in at 
 half-past twelve, groped his way to his 
 room on tlie third lloor, went to bed, lay 
 awake for some time, slept lightly, but 
 heard no noise whatever. All the rest of 
 the persons in the house disclaimed hear- 
 ing any noise in the course of the night. 
 Mr. Brooks, living opposite, at No. 36, did 
 hear a cry as of murder, shortly before 
 eleven o'clock. At ten minutes before 
 eleven, a strange man passed, and, when a 
 few steps beyond No. 31, heard a shriek or 
 cry. Mr. William Ross testified to going 
 from Broadway through Bond street at the 
 same time, behind Doctor Burdell, whom 
 he saw go up the steps of No. 31, enter 
 with a latch-key, and disappear; he had 
 gone but eight or ten yards farther, when 
 he heard a cry of murder, as if from No. 
 31, but on looking around, saw no one in 
 the street. 
 
 It appeared that Eckel was in the house 
 the whole evening, with the exception of 
 a few minutes; in the parlor from nine 
 to ten ; -Mrs. Cunningham joined him 
 there at half-past nine ; at ten, Mrs. Cun- 
 ningham called up the cook,, told her what 
 to get for breakfast, and sent her to bed. 
 At half-past ten, Snodgrass went down to 
 the basement, for water, ai:d, returning to 
 the third floor, found the whole family, 
 Mr. Eckel included, in Mrs. Cunningham's 
 bed-room. In a short time, Snodgrass 
 retired to his room in the attic ; about 
 three minutes before, Eckel, mIio had been 
 sitting by the fire with his boots off, went 
 to bed. When Snodgrass withdrew, he 
 left Mrs. Cunningham and her two daugh- 
 ters in the room. 
 
 In regard to the movements of Doctor 
 Burflell, on the fatal evening, he was seen 
 to leave the house at half-past five in the 
 afternoon, according to the testimony of 
 Doctor Main, who lived opposite; at half- 
 past nine, in the evening, he was seen 
 standing at the corner of Bond street 
 and the Bowery. Several witnesses de- 
 scribed him as a passionate man, others 
 as a quiet, gentlemanly, prudent man, but 
 all agreed that he was extremely penurious. 
 
630 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 The appearance of Doctor Burdell's 
 body, on being examined, was horrible in 
 the extreme. There were no less than 
 fifteen stabs in the neck and breast, made 
 with some narrow-bladed sharp instru- 
 ment. One of the cuts had severed the 
 jugular vein, and another nearly separated 
 the vertebrae. Two of the wounds in the 
 breast had penetrated the heart. A cut on 
 the left lappet was more than an inch 
 long; the next cut, just below the vipper 
 button-hole on the same side, was five- 
 eighths of an inch long; the next cut, one 
 inch above the left breast-j)ocket, was one 
 inch long ; just above the fob-pocket, on 
 the same side, was another cut, seven- 
 eighths of an inch long ; and at the junc- 
 tion of the cloth and back, a little below 
 the arm-hole, was a cut half an inch long ; 
 — and after this manner was the whole 
 upper part of the body frightfully covered 
 with stabs. 
 
 On the arraignment of Mrs. Cunning- 
 ham for trial, the first witness called was 
 Doctor Francis, who described minutely 
 the position and character of all the vari- 
 ous wounds found on Doctor Burdell's 
 body, and also the mark of a ligature 
 around his neck. The mark, when he saw 
 the body, which was on the morning after 
 the murder, was distinct on the front and 
 on either side, and disappeared altogether 
 before reaching the back part of the neck; 
 this gave him the impression that the lig- 
 ature had been applied from behind, and 
 that the neck had been drawn backward. 
 It had been said that the wound under the 
 arm must have been inflicted by a left- 
 handed person ; such had been Doctor 
 Francis's opinion at first, but reflection 
 had changed his mind. Hannah Conlan, 
 the next witness, testified to her residence 
 as a domestic, in the house of Mrs. Cun- 
 ningham, and to the bad state of feeling 
 between Mrs. Cunningnam and Doctor 
 lUirdell; on one occasion, namely, after 
 the lady who came to hire the house of 
 Doctor Burdell had retired, Mrs. Cunning- 
 ham came to the kitchen and asked what 
 the lady's business was, and, on being told 
 that Doctor Burdell was going to let the 
 
 house to her, Mrs. Cunningham replied 
 that the doctor might not live to rent the 
 house or sign the papers. Other testi- 
 mony, confirming this state of enmity 
 between the parties, was given by a num- 
 ber of persons. 
 
 Perhaps the most important of what 
 was received from the witnesses for the 
 prosecution, was that elicited on the cross- 
 examination of Doctor Uhl. The doctor's 
 impression appeared to be, that the wounds 
 were inflicted by a tall person, having a 
 considerable amount of anatomical knowl- 
 edge. The situations, too, in which blood, 
 was found — in the doctor's room, on the 
 stairway hall, on the hall floor, on the hall 
 basement floor, on the hinge side of the 
 basement front door, and again on the 
 
 MRS. CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 door of the main entrance, — appeared to 
 indicate that the person who committed 
 the deed had passed out of the room, down 
 the stairs to the main floor ; then turned 
 and passed down into the basement hall, 
 tried to find the knob of the front base- 
 ment door, and failing, had returned and 
 passed out of the main door into the street. 
 
 There was considerable testimony elic- 
 ited, bearing upon the impression that the 
 wounds were dealt by a left-handed per- 
 son, and that Mrs. Cunningham was a left- 
 handed woman. The medical witnesses, 
 however, gave no decided opinion as to 
 what hand was used by the person who 
 perpetrated the deed, and Avitnesses famil- 
 iar with Mrs. Cunningham had failed to 
 notice any imusual use of her left hand. 
 
 Much weight was attached to the testi- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 631 
 
 mony of Mary Donolioe, who had lived for 
 two months with Mrs. Cunningham, as 
 chambermaid. She went out on the 
 Wednesday evening preceding the murder, 
 and, being ill, did not return again prior 
 to that event. She was there, however, at 
 the time when the terrible dispute arose 
 between Mrs. Cunningham and Doctor 
 Burdell. The doctor rushed down stairs 
 to the basement, very much agitated, and 
 expressed himself that he must endeavor 
 to get rid of such a concern out of the 
 house. He told Hannah, the cook, that 
 the eldest daughter had torn his hair and 
 abused him ; he then seemed to go out for 
 an officer, staid a few moments, and one 
 of the detached police soon came, the two 
 standing and talking outside. Miss Helen 
 tried to get him in, saying, " Doctor, if 
 you will come up stairs along with me, I 
 will get my mother to give you those 
 papers." Mrs. Cunningham told Hannah 
 afterward, that they were some important 
 pajjers he accused her of having stolen 
 from his safe ; after this, witness heard no 
 more loud talk, and soon after the doctor 
 went out for his dinner. When Mrs. 
 Cunningham insisted upon witness going 
 to bed at nine o'clock, witness refused, on 
 the ground that it was unreasonable ; on 
 Saturday, the twenty-fourth, just one week 
 previous to the murder, Mrs. Cunningham 
 came down four times, and at last sat down 
 in the basement, and said she would not 
 leave until witness went to bed. Mr. 
 Eckel, during the month of January, was 
 always in Mrs. Cunningham's bed-room, 
 and witness supposed they were going to 
 be married ; never saw the same famil- 
 iarity between Doctor Burdell and Mrs. 
 Cunningham, as between her and Eckel. 
 Mrs. Cunningham said it was time Doctor 
 Burdell was out of the world, for he was 
 not fit to live in it ; and Augusta said he 
 was a bad man, in the presence of Eckel 
 at the breakfast table. At the time of the 
 quarrel with the doctor, Snod grass was 
 seemingly very mad against the doctor, 
 saying that he ought to get his head 
 knocked in ; next morning, at breakfast, 
 they all said he was an old devil — he 
 
 should have been compelled to stay out; 
 Eckel sat beside Mrs. Cunningham, and 
 looked leeringly at her, — he had got the 
 habit of going down stairs and going 
 about the place, seemed to be taking the 
 mastery of the house upon him, and twice 
 he bolted the door, and even closed the 
 little shutters at the sides. Witness- also 
 stated that Doctor Burdell was a very 
 quiet gentleman, except when Mrs. Cun- 
 ningham put him into a passion; Mrs. 
 Cunningham had keys with which she 
 could go into his room at any time. Han- 
 nah said that Mrs. Cunningham told her 
 that she had a halter about his neck, and 
 could fix him at any time when he was 
 cross. 
 
 Another witness testified that she called 
 upon Doctor Burdell the week before the 
 murder, at which time he said that he had 
 let his house to a lady, the most horrible 
 woman he had ever met, and very artful, 
 one who would do anything for the pur- 
 pose of accomplishing what she undertook ; 
 that he suspected foul play, and did not 
 like the way they were prowling about the 
 house — that he had lost papers and the 
 key of his safe, and nothing was private to 
 him ; he said, " Thank heaven ! I will get 
 rid of them all on the first of May." He 
 said Mrs. Cunningham would outwit the 
 devil, and he would rather be in the hands 
 of the devil than in those of a woman like 
 her ; that he would never make a contract 
 with another woman ; said he was not mar- 
 ried, but farther from it than ever ; had 
 never been so taken in before ; he said, " I 
 am prepared for them — I am watching." 
 
 But, notwithstanding the powerful chain 
 of circumstantial evidence implicating Mrs. 
 Cunningham in the crime, — the vast mass 
 of testimony going to show that upon her, 
 almost alone, rested the full weight of sus- 
 picion, — she was acquitted by the jury, for 
 want of legal proof, and Eckel was also 
 discharged. 
 
 Another chapter, however, in this drama 
 of blood and mystery, was to open. Claim- 
 ing to be the widow of Doctor Burdell, 
 Mrs. Cunningham had lost no time after 
 the commission of the murder, in applying 
 
632 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 for letters of administration upon his 
 estate. Rumors, too, were rife, that the 
 marriage ■was not to be an unfruitful one, 
 and she herself did not deny the truth of 
 the rumor, but adopted the most unmis- 
 takable means of giving it the appearance 
 of truth. Indeed, while she was still an 
 inmate of the Tombs, awaiting her trial 
 for murder, she communicated the fact of 
 her pregnancy to the matron of that estab- 
 lishment, and by her " make-up " and 
 other corroborative circumstances, removed 
 all doubt from that lady's mind. She also 
 consulted Doctor Uhl as to her condition, 
 and got him to prescribe tlie medicines fit- 
 ted for a lady so situated. Doctor Uhl had 
 been her physician for some time previously', 
 and, on account of his theory of the mur- 
 der, was an important witness in her 
 favor on the trial. He does not appear to 
 have had his suspicions aroused at first. 
 
 Subsequently, and after her acquittal by 
 the jury, she again on several occasions 
 consulted Doctor Uhl, and desired to en- 
 gage his services on the eventful occasion. 
 He suggested to her the propriety, in view 
 of the importance of the matter, of having 
 a preliminary examination made hy two 
 or more respectable physicians. Mrs. 
 Cunningliam at first admitted the force of 
 the suggestion, and expressed lierself will- 
 ing and anxious to have it done, request- 
 ing Doctor Uhl to make the necessary 
 arrangements for it. The doctor could not 
 fail to perceive that she avoided such an 
 examination as he proposed. This and 
 other little circumstances which he noticed, 
 awakened his suspicions, and led him to 
 believe that her pregnancy was a sham. 
 
 At a subsequent interview she admitted 
 to Doctor Uhl that her j^regnancy was 
 simulated, and offered the doctor one thou- 
 sand dollars to procure her a baby. 
 
 Doctor Uhl, on advice of counsel, com- 
 municated all he knew to the district 
 attorney', who urged Doctor Uhl to con- 
 tinue to wink at the deception, until 
 matters should be fully ripe for a complete 
 exposure and detection. Having ascer- 
 tained, through Doctor Uhl, that Mrs. 
 Cunningham had selected the 28th of 
 
 July, or thereabouts for the time of Lev 
 accouchment, Mr. Hall, the district attor- 
 ney, was on the look-out ; and the plan 
 which Doctor Uhl proposed to his patient, 
 and which seemed to please and gratify 
 her immensely, was this : Doctor Uhl pro- 
 fessed to have the good luck of being 
 engaged by a woman in Elm street, con- 
 venient to Bond, to assist her in her 
 approaching confinement. This Avoman 
 Avas represented to be one of those matrons 
 known, at that period, as "California 
 widows," who A\ould be overjoyed at being 
 relieved of a responsibility on which her 
 husband had not calculated. Neither 
 woman was to see or know the other. 
 
 HOUSE IN WIIICU DK. l!lIKUEi>L WAS MURDERED. 
 
 Apartments were procured on Elm 
 street, and were furnished by Mr. Hall, 
 for the proper reception of the lying-in 
 woman. Four policemen were detailed to 
 keep a close look-out on 31 Bond street. 
 An infant that had been born on Saturday 
 at Bellevue Hospital was visited by Mr. 
 Hall, and having been marked so as to be 
 easily identified, was sent down with a 
 nurse to 190 Elm street. There a physician 
 was in waiting, duly night-capped and meta- 
 morjdiosed, to personate the California 
 lady ; and Doctor Uhl was there to deliver 
 over the body to a Sister of Charit}', to be 
 represented on that occasion by Mrs. Cun- 
 ningham. The hour of nine o'clock was 
 fixed as the time for that denouement. 
 Mrs. Cunningham was to proceed to Elm 
 
GREAT AND IMEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 G33 
 
 street, dressed as a Sister of Cliarity, to 
 receive tlie little stranger. 
 
 Mrs. Cunningliam was duly tracked, by 
 Police-Captain Speight, from 31 I'ond 
 street to Elm street, and seen to return 
 \\ itli a basket containing the babj'. She 
 was permitted to enter her house, and at 
 eleven o'clock a domiciliary visit was paid 
 by the officers. 
 
 The scene in the bed-room was melodra- 
 matic. Doctor De la Montagne, (a con- 
 nection of Mr. Hall ) and Police-Inspector 
 Dilks rang the door-bell, but there was no 
 answer. The doctor then rang violently, 
 when the door was soon opened by two 
 women, who objected to their coming in, 
 and asked what was wanted at that late 
 hour. The callers excused themselves for 
 being there at such a time, by saying they 
 had intercepted a doctor who stated that 
 there had been a delivery in the house, — 
 Inspector Dilks remarking that he had 
 come to see if it was all right. To this, 
 one of the women replied that Mrs. Bur- 
 dell was sick and could not be seen. The 
 two then closely followed the women up 
 stairs, and entered the upper second-story 
 hall. One of the women looked into the 
 front large room and said, " There are two 
 gentlemen who wish to come in ; " a voice 
 said from within, " Lock that door — they 
 must not come in — I tell you to lock that 
 door ! " 
 
 Doctor Uhl had previously been sum- 
 moned to repair immediately to No. 31 
 Bond street, as Mrs. Burdell was then suf- 
 fering with labor pains. On arriving, he 
 was ushered into a dark room, where Mrs. 
 Cunningham was in bed. She feigned to 
 be very sick, and groaned in apparent 
 agony ; the nurse was washing the child. 
 While he was there, Doctor Catlin> one of 
 Mrs. Cunningham's accomplices, brought 
 in a pail of blood and smeared the sheets, 
 and otherwise made it appear that a birth 
 had actually taken place. Mrs. Cunning- 
 ham exclaimed soon after, " I have put my 
 trust in God, and he has favored me ; I 
 shall now be revenged upon my persecu- 
 tors." On being asked by Doctor De la 
 Montagne, " Do you claim this child as the 
 
 child of Harvey Burdell ? " she said, " Of 
 course, whose else should it be ? " On the 
 officers entering her room, they found the 
 two nurses busily preparing some warm 
 drink for the pretended patient. On the 
 infant being removed by the officers, Mrs. 
 Cunningham said, ''Don't take away my 
 dear baby from me." Doctor De la Mon- 
 tagne demanded, in the presence of the 
 officers, to see the umbilical cord. Mrs. 
 Cunningham and the nurse objected, but 
 after some jiersuasion, gave their consent. 
 He then removed the bandage and saw the 
 piece of pocket-handkerchief on the cord, 
 which was placed there at 190 Elm street. 
 The infant was now taken to Bellevue 
 Hospital and restored to its mother, a 
 lying-in patient in that institution. Doc- 
 tor Catlin turned state's evidence, and 
 exposed the fictitious birth. Mrs. Cun- 
 ningham escaped the penalty attaching to 
 so flagrant a crime, because of the irregu- 
 lar proceedings which had been resorted to 
 by the officers of the law in enabling her 
 to consummate her plans. She failed, 
 however, to establish her claim to having 
 been married to Doctor Burdell, and thus 
 the whole amazing and abhorrent scheme, 
 by which she was to obtain possession of 
 the doctor's property, utterly miscarried. 
 
 Two of the most terrible tragedies, 
 therefore, arising from the guilty relation of 
 libertine and mistress, have thus been fur- 
 nished by New York, namely, the murder 
 of Doctor Burdell by the hands or at the 
 instigation of Mrs. Cunningham, and that 
 of the brilliant and beautiful, but dejiraved 
 courtesan, Helen Jewett. This last-named 
 tragedy occurred April 9, 1836. Rich- 
 ard P. Robinson, the alleged perpetrator 
 of this horrid deed, had for some time been 
 in the habit of " keeping " a girl named 
 Helen Jewett, at No. 41 Thomas street, a 
 noted house of ill-fame, kept by Rosina 
 Townsend, — one of the most splendid of 
 the Palaces of Pleasure and Passion to be 
 found in that cit3^ 
 
 Having, as he suspected, some cause for 
 jealousy, he went to the house on that 
 fatal night, with the intention of murder- 
 ing her, for he carried a hatchet with him. 
 
634 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 On going up into her room, quite late at 
 night, he mentioned his suspicions, ex- 
 pressed his determination to quit her, and 
 demanded liis watch and miniature, to- 
 gether with some letters which were in 
 her possession. She refused to give them 
 up, and he then drew from beneath his 
 cloak the hatchet, and inflicted upon her 
 head three blows, either of which must 
 have proved fatal, as the bone was cleft to 
 the extent of three inches in each jilace. 
 She died without a struggle ; and the cold- 
 blooded villain then set fire to the bed, 
 after Avhich he ran down stairs secretly, 
 went out of the back door, and escaped to 
 his boarding-house. In a short time, Mrs. 
 Town send was aroused by the smell of 
 smoke, and, rushing up stairs, saw the bed 
 on fire and the mangled body of the unfor- 
 tunate girl upon it. She ran down, raised 
 the alarm, and the watchmen, running to 
 the spot, rescued the body and preserved 
 the house from being consumed. 
 
 A cloak was found in the yard, which, 
 being identified as that of Robinson, at 
 once the murderer was suspected. Re- 
 ceiving such information as the horror- 
 stricken inmates could furnish them, the 
 policemen proceeded on their search for 
 the assassin, and in a short time Robinson 
 was arrested in his bed, and brought at 
 once to the house where had been com- 
 mitted the awful crime. On seeing the 
 body, he exhibited no signs of emotion, 
 but gazed around and on his victim coolly 
 and calmly. 
 
 The coroner was summoned, a jury 
 formed, and, after a patient examination 
 of the testimony, a verdict was rendered 
 that " she came to her death by blows upon 
 
 her head, inflicted with a hatchet, by 
 Richard P. Robinson." But, notwith- 
 standing the weight of evidence against 
 him, at the regular trial, the jury failed to 
 convict him of the deed. Among other 
 proofs of his guilt, was the complete iden- 
 tification of the cloak found, as that be- 
 longing to Robinson and worn by him that 
 evening, and the identification of the 
 bloody hatchet as one that belonged to 
 Robinson's employer, Mr. Joseph Hoxie, 
 and which had been missing from the 
 store exactly from the day of the mur- 
 der. 
 
 The extreme youthfulness — only nine- 
 teen years, — handsome appearance, and 
 social standing of Robinson, and the repu- 
 tation of Helen Jewett, as one of the most 
 beautiful and accomplished " women of 
 pleasure," invested the case with an all- 
 pervading public interest. She was well- 
 known to every pedestrian on Broadway, 
 and had probably seduced, by her personal 
 attractions, more 3'oung men than any 
 other of her degraded class. She was 
 oftentimes conspicuous on Wall street, 
 which she paraded in an elegant green 
 dress, and generally with a letter in her 
 hand. Her walk was in the style of an 
 English woman, and she gazed with great 
 boldness of demeanor upon the gentlemen 
 who passed by. Her handwriting was 
 beautiful, and she carried on an extensive 
 correspondence with acquaintances in all 
 parts of the country. Not a fulsome 
 expression nor an unchaste word was 
 found in any of the letters written by her. 
 Her wit, talents, beauty, and depravity, 
 constituted her a remarkable character, 
 and she came to a remarkable end. 
 
LXXIV. 
 
 FOUNDERING OF THE STEAMER CENTRAL AMERICA, IN 
 A GALE OFF CAPE HATTERAS.— 1857. 
 
 More than Four Hundred Lives Lost, and Two Million Dollars in Treasure. — Fury and Terror of the 
 Tempest. — The Staunch and Noble Vessel Springs a Leak. — Successive Great and Terrible Waves 
 Break Over and Drag Her Under, in the Niulit — The Tale of Peril, Suffering, Despair, Parting, and 
 Death. — Unparalleled Nature of this Disaster. — Hundreds of Homes Desolated. — Gloom of the Pub- 
 lic Mind. — The Financial Panic Aggravated — liise of the Fatal Gale. — Hard Labor of the Steamer. 
 — A Leak Caused by the Strain. — Incessant Working at the Pumps. — Four Anxious Days. — 
 Approach of the Brig Marine — Women and Children Rescued — Perils of the Life-boat. — Terrible 
 Heiglit of the Sea. — Harrowing Experiences. — The Two Little Babes. — Gradual Filling of the Ship. 
 — Three Plunges, and She Sinks. — Captain Herndon on the Wheel-house — His Sad but Heroic End. 
 — A Night on the Waves. — Dead and Living Float Together. — Narratives of the Survivors. 
 
 ' I will never leave the ship."— Captain Herndon. 
 
 HILE the country was just entering upon the most 
 disastrous epoch, in respect to business and finance, 
 that ever befell a commercial nation, the general 
 '^^» apprehension and gloom possessing men's minds sud- 
 denly took the form of 
 liorror, as the tidings 
 broke upon the public 
 ear, that the steamer 
 Central America had 
 foundered off Cape Hat- 
 teras, with the loss of 
 more than four hundred 
 lives and nearly two 
 millions of treasure, — a 
 disaster never before 
 equaled in American 
 waters. 
 
 The steamship Central 
 America, formerly the 
 George Law, commanded by Lieutenant W. L. Herndon, United States Navj^, left 
 Aspinwall for New York, on the third of September, 1857, having on board the pas- 
 sengers and treasure shipped from San Francisco, by the steamer Sonora, on the 
 twentieth of August. On Saturda}', the twelfth of September, at eight o'clock in the 
 evening, she was totally wrecked, on the eastern edge of the Gulf Stream off Cape 
 
 CAPTAIN HEKNDON ON THE WHEEL-HOUSE. 
 
C3G 
 
 OUR FIRST CEXTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Hatteras, and, out of nearly six liundrcd 
 persons on board at tlie time, about three- 
 fourtlis went down with her, together with 
 the vast amount of bullion, and the pro- 
 digious California mails. Hundreds of 
 family circles, in all parts of the land, were 
 thus suddenly bereaved and desolated ; 
 and, so direful was the disaster, as to 
 greatlj^ aggravate .the financial panic that 
 had just begun to shake and shatter the 
 foundations of the business Avorld. 
 
 The gale whicli caused this terrible 
 calamity was described by experienced 
 seamen as one of the fiercest ever known. 
 It commenced on the evening of the eighth 
 — the day on Avhicb the Central America 
 left Havana — and continued, lulling at 
 intervals, until the niglit of the twelfth. 
 On the latter dav, it rose to the power of 
 an appalling hurricane, against which the 
 ship labored very hard. A low, gloomy 
 sky shut Out the sun by da}', and the stars 
 by night; the sea did not rise into waves, 
 but was one plain of foam, over which a 
 heavy mist of spray was drivenby the force 
 of the wind. On the morning of Friday, 
 the eleventh, the ship was discovered to 
 have sprung a leak. This appears to have 
 extinguished the fires almost immediately; 
 the steam j^umps Avore, therefore, useless, 
 and the only hope was in bailing, as the 
 ship even then was making water very 
 fast. The passengers worked vigorously 
 at the buckets, and at first with so much 
 success that the fires were again litrhted — 
 but only for a few moments ; the water 
 returned, and extinguished them forever. 
 
 So terrific was the power of the ele- 
 ments, that the vessel was now completely 
 at the mercy of the winds and waves. 
 During the whole of the night of the 
 eleventh, the bailing was kept up with 
 unremitting energy, but on the morning 
 of the twelfth, in spite of all efforts to keep 
 her afloat, the ship was evidently sinking 
 fast. The passengers continued to de- 
 mean themselves, however, with the great- 
 est propriety ; there was no weeping, no 
 exhibition of despair, even among the 
 women. At two o'clock, in the afternoon, 
 a sail was reported to windward, and in 
 
 about an hour after, the brig Marine, Cap- 
 tain Burt, of Roston, came up under the 
 Central America's stern. Boats were now 
 lowered, but two were instantly swamped 
 and destroyed, the sea being at a terrible 
 height. Three boats still remained, though 
 one of them was in a bad condition. At 
 four o'clock the work of removing the 
 women and children to the deck of the 
 JNEarine was commenced. The brig, how- 
 ever, being much lighter than the ship, 
 had drifted two or three miles to leeward, 
 and the boats were long in making their 
 trips. After the women and children had 
 all been safely placed on board, the chief 
 engineer and some fifteen othei-s took the 
 boats, made for the brig, and did not 
 return. It was now dark. About two 
 hours before the sinking of the ship, a 
 schooner ran down under her stern, but 
 could render no assistance for want of 
 boats, just then. This was the El Dorado, 
 Captain Stone, Avho, as stated by him, 
 supposing from Captain Herndon's asking 
 him to lie by until morning, that the 
 steamer would be kept afloat till that time, 
 made all the preparations in his power to 
 assist. The vessels drifted ajjart in the 
 storm, though the lights from the steamer 
 were A'isible to the schooner until nearly 
 eight o'clock, when they suddenly disap- 
 peared. Captain Stone then ran as near 
 the spot as could be ascertained, but could 
 discover nothing of the steamer. 
 
 Until within an hour of the fatal event, 
 the passengers continued to bail. Life- 
 preservers wei'e then given out to them. 
 Captain Herndon stood upon the wheel, 
 and was heard to say, " / ivill never leave 
 the sltij).'" The final scene took place 
 more suddenly, and at an earlier period, 
 than her unfortunate passengers antici- 
 pated. All at once the ship made a 
 2)lunge at an angle of forty-five degrees, 
 and then disappeared forever. 
 
 A simultaneous shriek of agony rose 
 from five hundred Iniman voices, and five 
 hundred human beings were now floating 
 on the bosom of the ocean, with no hope 
 but death. 
 
 About half-past one o'clock, on the 
 
GEEAT AND MEMOKABLE EVEXXS. 
 
 C.37 
 
 morning of the 
 thirteenth, t h e 
 Norwegian hark 
 Ellen came run- 
 ning down with a free wind. The cries of 
 distress from the Central America's pas- 
 sengers were heard, and the Ellen hove-to 
 under short sail. And now the task of res- 
 cuing those who had heen ahle to survive 
 in the water for some five hours was com- 
 menced, and, hy nine o'clock in the fore- 
 noon, thirty-one men were rescued. Dili- 
 gent search was made until twelve o'clock, 
 hut no more survivors could he seen, so the 
 Ellen hore awaj^ for Norfolk, where the 
 passengers rescued hy her, as well as 
 those taken off hy the Marine, were placed 
 on hoard the steamer Empire City, and 
 conveyed to New York. Out of a total of 
 five hundred and seventy-nine persons on 
 board — four hundred and seventy-four pas- 
 sengers and a crew of one hundred and 
 five — only one hundred and fiftj'-two were 
 saved. Captain Herndon, the brave com- 
 mander, stood courageously at his post to 
 t!ie last, and went down with his noble 
 vessel. He was one of the most brilliant 
 officers in the American naval service, 
 distinguished himself in the Mexican 
 war, assisted for some years in the con- 
 
 duct of the national observatory at 
 Washington, and in 1851-2 explored the 
 Amazon river, under the direction of the 
 United States government. 
 
 Among the thrilling narratives of the 
 wreck and of their own personal suffer- 
 ings, given by some of the passengers, 
 that by Mr. George furnishes an idea of 
 the terrors of a night on the waves. Mr. 
 George was one of the hundreds who had 
 su2:)plied themselves with life-preservers, 
 pieces of plank, etc., and preferred to 
 await the ship's going down to leajting 
 overboard in anticipation of her fate. 
 When she went down stern foremost, after 
 giving three lurches that made every tim- 
 ber quiver, and which were to every quak- 
 ing heart as the throes that instantl}-^ pre- 
 ceded her dissolution, he was dragged, 
 with the rest on board of her, some twenty- 
 five feet below the surface. He heard no 
 shriek — nothing but the seething rush 
 and hiss of waters that closed above her as 
 she hurried, almost with the speed of an 
 arrow, to her ocean bed. Night had 
 closed in before the vessel sank, and he 
 was sucked in by the whirlpool caused by 
 her swift descent, to a depth that was 
 seemingly unfathomable, and into a dark- 
 ness that he had never dreamed of. Com- 
 
638 
 
 OUH riEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 pared with it, the blackest night, without 
 moon or star, was as the broad noonday. 
 He was rather stunned than stifled, and 
 his sensations on coming to the surface 
 were ahnost as painful, from their reaction, 
 as those which he endured at the greatest 
 depth to which he sank. When he became 
 conscious, after the lapse of a minute or 
 two, he could distinguish every object 
 around him for a considerable distance. 
 The waves, as they rose and fell, revealed 
 a crowd of human heads. Those unfortu- 
 nates who had lost their life-preservers or 
 planks while under water, owing to the 
 force of the whirlpoool, were frantically 
 snatching at the broken pieces of the 
 wreck, which, breaking from the ship as 
 she continued to descend, leaped above the 
 surface, and fell back with a heavy splash. 
 Then cries arose that mingled into one 
 inarticulate wail, and then the lustier and 
 less terrified shouted for assistance to the 
 Marine, which was far beyond hailing dis- 
 tance. The waves dashed tliem one 
 against another at first, but speedily they 
 began to separate, and tlie last farewells 
 were taken. One man called to another, 
 in Mr. George's hearing — 
 
 "7/" you are saved, Frank, send my love 
 to my dear wife ! " 
 
 But, alas ! the friend appealed to an- 
 swered only with a gurgle of the throat, 
 for he was washed off his plank, and per- 
 ished as his companion spoke. Many were 
 desirous of separating themselves as far as 
 possible from tlie rest, being fearful lest 
 some desperate straggler miglit seize hold 
 of them, and draw them under. Otliers, 
 afraid of their loneliness, called to their 
 neighbors to keep together. Generally, 
 they strove to cheer each other as long as 
 they rerarained within hearing, and when 
 the roar of the waves drowned all but the 
 loudest shouting, the call of friendship or 
 the cry of des[)air was heard in the dis- 
 tance, and infused confidence or increased 
 dismay in many a bosom. 
 
 It was when he had drifted far from the 
 companionship of any of his fellows in 
 misfortune, tliat Mr. George began to real- 
 ize his situation. The night was quite 
 
 dark. Occasionally, as the driving clouds 
 parted and gave a glimpse of sky, a star or 
 two would be visible, but this was very 
 seldom, and offered but the faintest gleam 
 of hope that the morning would dawn fair 
 and calm. The swell of the sea was great, 
 and successively the poor floaters, holding 
 on to their planks with the energy of 
 despair, were riding on the brink of a 
 precipice and buried in a deep valle}^ of 
 water. Many of the poor creatures were 
 also seized with the fear of sharks. Res- 
 piration, too, was very difficult, owing to 
 the masses of water which were constantly 
 dashed upon the strugglers, as wave after 
 wave rolled b}'. For two or three hours, 
 the water was not unpleasantly cold, and 
 it was not until Sunday morning, and a 
 fresh, chilling wind arose, that their limbs 
 began to feel benumbed. 
 
 Some of the incidents that occurred in 
 connection with a shipwreck attended with 
 such wholesale loss of life, were sad in- 
 deed. One man, floating in solitude, and 
 terrified at his loneliness, after shouting 
 himself hoarse to find a companion, saw at 
 length a man with two life-preservers 
 fastened about his body drifting toward 
 him. His heart leaped with joj- at the 
 welcome sight, for the feeling of desolation 
 which had overcome him was terrible to 
 endure. He called to the other to join 
 him if possible, and made every exertion 
 to meet him half-way. There was no 
 reply, but the other drifted nearer and 
 nearer. A Avave threw them together. 
 They touched. Tlie living man shrieked 
 in the face of a corpse! The other had 
 been drowned by the dash of the billows, 
 or had perished from exhaustion. 
 
 When, rising and falling with the swell 
 of the waves, the lights of the bark Ellen 
 were first discerned by the survivors in the 
 water, the thrill of hoi)e that at once filled 
 every breast amounted, it may well be 
 believed, to a perfect ecstasy, Mr. George 
 says: "I never felt so thankful in all my 
 life. I never knew what gratitude was 
 before. I do not know whether I cried or 
 not, but I know I was astonished to hear 
 my own laughter ringing in ni}- ears. I 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 639 
 
 do not know why I laughed. That verse, 
 * God moves in a mysterious way,' kept 
 passing in and out of me — through me, 
 ratlier, as if I had been the pipe of an 
 organ. It did not come to me by my own 
 volition, but somehow made me remember 
 it. When the lights approached nearer, a 
 score of voices sprang up around me, 
 crying, 'Ship ahoijl' ^ Boat alioij!' and 
 then I began to shout too. And I had 
 never any doubt that I should be saved 
 till I saw the lights pass by, about half a 
 mile from where I was, and recede in the 
 distance. Then I began to give myself up 
 
 
 was hailed by Captain Herndon, and told 
 of the desperate situation of affairs. The 
 captain of the brig said he would do for 
 them all that he could, and brought his 
 vessel close under the steamer's stern, the 
 distance between the two vessels immedi- 
 ately increasing. The captain at once 
 called the ladies, and told them to prepare 
 to get into the boats. But to get in was 
 a difficult matter, as the waves were so 
 high. However, a noose was made in a 
 rope, and a lady seated herself in it, hold- 
 ing on to the rope at the same time, when 
 she was lowered safely into the boat. 
 
 VICTIMS OF THE CENTRAL AMERICA. 
 
 for lost indeed. But I slowly drifted 
 toward her again, till I could make out her 
 hull and one of her masts, and presently I 
 floated close to her, and shouted, and was 
 taken up. When I got on the deck I 
 could not stand. I did not know till then 
 how exhausted I was." He was one of 
 the few who were rescued at the last 
 moment. 
 
 The statement made by one of the lady 
 passengers, Mrs. Birch, was, that, at about 
 noon, of Saturday, when they had almost 
 given up hope, the brig Marine was seen 
 at some little distance off, bearing rapidly 
 down toward the Central America; she 
 
 This process was repeated with all, but 
 many got saturated — for, just as they 
 would be ready to get in, a large wave 
 would come, sway the boat from the ves- 
 sel's side, and of course the lady would 
 descend into the water. One lady had 
 this experience two or three times, but in 
 the end they were scarcely worse off than 
 the rest, for, as they were being conveyed 
 to the brig, the waves dashed over the. 
 boat and drenched them all thoroughl}^ 
 A man, who was one of the stewards, got 
 in, as he said, to help row the boat, but he 
 did not understand the work, and the 
 sailors made him lie down in the bottom of 
 
640 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.^17.76-1876. 
 
 the boat ; the boat was rowed, by four 
 men, and steered by the boatswain of the 
 sliip. Chief-Engineer Ashb}' superintended 
 getting the passengers into the boat. All 
 ■who were rescued by the brig were on 
 board by six o'clock in the afternoon. 
 Toward evening, seeing a schooner close 
 under the bow of the steamer, all anxiety 
 was dismissed, in regard to the friends who 
 had been left behind. It soon became 
 dark, and nothing was ever seen again of 
 the sinking steamer. On board the Ma- 
 rine — a very small vessel, with a cabin 
 scarcely larger than an ordinary state- 
 room on a steamer — there were thirty-one 
 women, twenty-six children, and forty-one 
 men, all being very much crowded. The 
 vessel had also lost part of her foremast 
 and bowsprit, and was peculiarly unsuited 
 to accommodate such a company ; they 
 slejDt, therefore, on the top of the deck 
 cabins, using the spare sails for beds. 
 Some of the women had no clothes to cover 
 their children, and they took the sheets 
 and made them into garments. 
 
 Bat the most remarkable individual 
 experience, in this terrible catastrophe, 
 was that of Alexander Grant, one of the 
 firemen of the ill-fated steamer. Though 
 but a 3'oung man, this was the foicrfh time 
 he had been lorecked, escaping only 
 through great hardship and peril. When 
 a, boy, on a Fall River schooner, he was 
 wrecked in tlie Bay of Fundy, and barely 
 saved his life. Subsequently, he was fire- 
 man on the Collins steamer Arctic, and 
 when that vessel went down, he was left 
 floating on a piece of timber, in tlio broad 
 Atlantic; after several days of intense 
 suffering, he was picked up by the ship 
 Cambria, and carried with Captain Luce 
 to Quebec. Afterwards, he became fire- 
 man on the steamship Crescent City, and 
 when tliat vessel went ashore on the Ba- 
 hamas liad a third most narrow escape 
 with his life. Still lie did not quit the 
 sea, but engaged again as fireman on 
 board the Central America, and was on her 
 when she went down. Just as the steamer 
 was sinking, he, with nine others, got 
 upon a piece of the hurricane deck which 
 
 they had previously cut clear, and, when 
 the vessel sank, the remnant floated off 
 Avith them. 
 
 And now, with the energy inspired by 
 hope, they held on to the raft by rope.'-, 
 but the sea washed over them constant!}-, 
 causing them to swallow a large quantity 
 of salt water. They spent that night on 
 the raft, praying and hoping for relief. 
 When day broke, they could set the brig 
 Marine, a long Avaj^ off; but, although 
 they made every effort to attract the atten- 
 tion of her people, they were not seen. 
 .Without food or water, on- a few frail 
 planks in the 3'awning ocean, these ten 
 endured unutterable sufferings. All day 
 and night, they saw others struggling 
 around them in the angry waters ; but 
 although they eagerly scanned the horizon, 
 no friendly sail hove in sight. As the 
 darkness stole on, their hopes sank, and 
 many of the poor creatures, famished and 
 thirst}-, and sorely buffeted by the waves, 
 grew delirious. Some swore and raved in 
 their insanit}'' ; others babbled of cool and 
 limpid springs, whose clear waters flowed 
 mockingly at their feet, — or dreamed of 
 rich feasts, to which they were invited, 
 spread before their famished eyes, but 
 from which they were withheld hy a super- 
 human pawer. 
 
 During Sunday night, eight of the ten 
 persons on the raft, worn out b}- their suf- 
 ferings, were washed off, and drowned. 
 On Monday morning, the same cheerless 
 prospect greeted the survivors. In a short 
 time, they floated near apiece of plank, on 
 which was a colored passenger from the 
 steamer, George W. Dawson by name. 
 He was helped on to the raft; and toward 
 evening a second man was picked nj). 
 Time wore on slowly and painfully, with- 
 out hope or relief, and death was fast 
 drawing nigh unto all of them. The raft 
 had now become so light, however, owing 
 to the number who had been swept off, 
 tliat the remaining survivors could kneel, 
 the water being barely a foot deeji ; and 
 in this kneeling position, they contrived 
 for a wliile to sleep. On Tuesday, they 
 fell in with a passenger who was floating 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVEISTTS. 
 
 641 
 
 on a part of what was once the captain's 
 room. They offered him a place on tlieir 
 raft, but he declared that he was better off 
 as he was, as he could paddle himself 
 round, and pick up anything he saw. 
 Next day, two of the four tenants of the 
 raft became deranged and fell off, leaving 
 only Grant and Dawson. 
 
 It was now the fifth day of Grant's 
 hapless and suffering condition, as a 
 drifter upon the wide ocean. On this day, 
 as he narrates, " I saw a boat three miles 
 off, but could not tell whether there was 
 any one in it or not, but thought there 
 was. I resolved, therefore, to reach it if 
 possible, and accordingly I divested myself 
 of all but my underclothing, and tying a 
 life-preserver around me, I jumped into 
 the sea and swam toward the boat with all 
 my might. I cannot say how long I was 
 before I finally reached the boat; but 
 before I got to her I discovered a man 
 sitting down and trying to scull the boat 
 toward me. On reaching the side of the 
 boat, the man (who proved to be Mr. 
 Tiee,) helped me in. The boat, wliich, 
 when secured by Mr. Tice, was full of 
 water, had been bailed out by him through 
 the aid of a bucket and tin pan which he 
 had found iu it, in addition to three oars 
 in good order, which had remained in the 
 boat after being swamped. The hole in 
 the bottom of the boat for allowing the 
 water to drain out on being taken on board 
 ship, and which was open on being discov- 
 ered by Mr. Tice, had been plugged up by 
 him by a thole-pin, so that when I got 
 into her she was in fine trim. Mr. Tice 
 and myself immediately pulled the boat as 
 fast as possible to the hurricane deck, and 
 took Mr. Dawson in. He was as strong 
 as either of us, as we had all been without 
 food from twelve o'clock at noon of the 
 Saturday before, and were completely ex- 
 hausted, as we had been incessantly at 
 work for some thirty-six hours before the 
 ship went down, in trying to save her, and 
 none of us had cared to eat but a very 
 little during that time. After taking 
 Dawson on board, we allowed the boat to 
 drift with the wind to seaward, not being 
 41 
 
 able to help ourselves if we had wished, 
 and not knowing which way to pull." On 
 Sunday, the eighth day of the shipwreck, 
 a sail was seen ; but after tantalizing the 
 poor sufferers for a couple of hours, she 
 disappeared in the far distance. 
 
 It was not until the ninth da}', that 
 relief came to these unfortunates. "I 
 left the ship," says Mr. Tice, " on a board, 
 just as she went down. I had no life-pre- 
 server, and had no time to get one. I saw 
 others with them on, struggling in the 
 water; they seemed to do but little good. 
 The last object I saw was Captain Hern- 
 don, as the ship was sinking. I drifted 
 away from the others almost immediately, 
 and was three days on that board, expect- 
 ing every moment to be my last. On the 
 third day, I fell in with a boat, which was 
 about half full of water. I swam to it, got 
 in with great difficulty, and succeeded in 
 bailing out the water. I was two days in 
 the boat when I fell in with a portion of 
 the hurricane deck, and two men. Grant 
 and Dawson, succeeded in getting into the 
 boat with me. We floated around till the 
 ninth day, when we were picked up by 
 the brig Mary. All that time we had 
 nothing to eat, and not a drop of fresh 
 water. Most of the time, the sea was 
 breaking over the boat. "We suffered 
 everj'thing but death. No man could 
 describe what we endured." Grateful, 
 beyond expression, were these famished 
 and wasted men, for the kindness of the 
 "good old Scotch captain of the Mary," 
 who, after taking them into the cabin, 
 removed their clothing and gave them a 
 sip of wine, and afterward water and 
 gruel, gradually increasing the amount, as 
 they were able to take the same without 
 injury. They were found to have been 
 severely bruised, and exposure to the 
 action of salt water had produced boils all 
 over their persons. 
 
 In the labor of pumping out the Central 
 America, to prevent her from sinking, the 
 men became excessively wearied, and it 
 gradually wore them out. When, there- 
 fore, the ladies found that the men could 
 not hold out much longer, some of them 
 
642 
 
 OUR riEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 proposed to work themselves at the pumps. 
 But they were cot suffered to do this. 
 The men took fresh courage and staid at 
 tlieir posts, doing their duty bravely, even 
 when they were long past fit for it. The 
 ladies were in no worse spirits toward the 
 end than they w^ere at the beginning of 
 the danger ; in fact, they all appeared to 
 grow more and more calm and resigned as 
 matters progressed. Those who had no 
 young children to take care of, and to be 
 anxious for, were quite as brave and hope- 
 ful as the men. One of the sex, — a mother 
 witli two babes — writing on this and kin- 
 dred points, says: "A few of the ladies 
 showed no signs of fear, and kept up to 
 the last. It was wonderful to see their 
 composure. In fact, it was wonderful that 
 we were not all frantic. We were all weak 
 and reduced, from having nothing to eat, 
 of any consequence, for two days before 
 the ship went down. There was no fire to 
 cook anything, and there was no chance to 
 get any hearty, sustaining food. We 
 hardly had water to drink. Some of the 
 men, at work, became so exhausted, that 
 they dropped down in their places, as if 
 they were dead. In transferring the ladies 
 from the steamer to the brig, it was my 
 lot to go with the third boat. The sea 
 was very violent, and the prospect of out- 
 riding it in such a little frail craft Avas 
 terrible. Before going off, I put on a life- 
 preserver, which was the only preparation 
 I could make for my escape, but neither 
 the life-boat nor the life-preserver seemed 
 like safety; for it is impossloie to describe 
 the roughness of the Avaves, and the brig 
 was a great way off. The rope-noose was 
 tied around mc, and was swung out over 
 the water into the boat. Tlie life-boat 
 could not come ciose to the side of the 
 steamer, and we all had to take our chance 
 to jump at it. Some of the ladies fell two 
 or three times into the sea before they 
 could be got into the boat. One of them, 
 the stewardess, fell in three times, and 
 once was pinched between the boat and 
 the side of the steamer. A heavy wave 
 dashed the boat against the ship, and 
 struck the poor woman a severe blow. 
 
 After I got safely into the little boat, and 
 my two babes with me, I had but little 
 hope of getting to the brig. The peril 
 then seemed to be greater than ever ; but, 
 as the ship Avas in a sinking condition, the 
 only hope seemed to be in attempting even 
 this dangerous escape from her. The 
 water dashed into the boat, and Ave had to 
 keep dipping it out all the time. Two 
 high Avaves j^assed entirely over us, so 
 that it seemed as if Ave Avere swamped 
 and sunk ; but the boat recoA^ered from 
 them both." After a two hours' row 
 from the steamer to the brig, this brave 
 Avoman, with her tAvo little babes, caught 
 hold Avith one hand, and hung for some 
 minutes over the vessel's side, till the 
 men on deck caught hold of her and pulled 
 her in. 
 
 According to the statements made by 
 many of the survivors, there was seldom 
 so large an amount of money owned by 
 passengers as Avas the case Avith those avIio 
 came by the Central America, and the 
 quantity of treasure on board was, conse- 
 quently, far greater than the one and a 
 half to two millions named on the freight 
 list. Many, indeed, Avere persons of large 
 means, and there Avere but fcAv whose 
 immediate Avealth did not amount to hun- 
 dreds, AA'hile numbers reckoned their gold 
 by the thousands of dollars. The greater 
 portion of the passengers Avere returned 
 miners, some on their way to invest the 
 capital they had realized, in hopes to liA'e 
 a life of greater ease as the result of their 
 industi}^, and others to get their families 
 and once more go to the land of gold. 
 But, as the storm continued to rage, less 
 and less Avas thought of gold, and when, on 
 Saturday, it became evident tliat they 
 were likely at any moment to be buried 
 beneath the Avaves, Avealthy men divested 
 themselves of their treasure belts and scat- 
 tered the gold upon the cabin tloors, tell- 
 ing those to take it who would, lest its 
 Aveight about their persons — a fcAV extra 
 ounces or pounds — should carry them to 
 their death. Full purses, containing in 
 some instances thousands of dollars, lay 
 around untouched. Carpet -bags were 
 
GREAT AND ^lEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 643 
 
 opened, and the shining metal was poured 
 out on the floor with the prodigality of 
 death's despair. One of the passengers 
 opened a bag and dashed about the cabin 
 twenty thousand dolhirs in gold dust, and 
 told him who wanted to gratify his greed 
 for gold to take it. But it was passed by 
 untouched, as the veriest dross. 
 
 The praises of all who survived were 
 unmeasured in laudation of Captain Hern- 
 
 don's gallant and heroic conduct, and their 
 sorrow, as well as that of the country at 
 large, over his death, was most profound. 
 His best eulogy was that pronounced by 
 her who knew him best. His wife, on 
 being told of the loss of the steamer, and 
 that possibly the commander was saved, 
 instantly replied : "No ; if any one is lost 
 he is lost, for he would save every one 
 before he could think of himself ! " 
 
LXXY. 
 
 TERRIBLE CRISIS IN THE BUSINESS AND FINANCIAL 
 
 WORLD.— 1857. 
 
 Known as " the Great Panic." — A Sudden, Universal Crash in the Height of Prosperity. — Caused by 
 Wild Speculations and Enormous Debt. — Suspension of Banks all Over the Country — Failure of the 
 Oldest and Wiaithiest Houses — Fortunes Swept Away in a Day. — Prostration of Every Branch of 
 Industry. — Prolonged Enibarra.ssment, Distrust, and SufTering — i'he 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 tliis 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 Excitement — Rare Doings at the Counters. — Wit, Mirth, Despnir, 
 and Huin. — Forty Thousand Persons in Wall Street. — Factories, Foundries, etc., Stopped. — Business 
 Credit Destroyed. — Root of the Whole Difficulty. 
 
 " The tnoBt extraordinary, violent, and destructive panic ever eixperierced in this country."— Oibdons's IIistort or Banks a»» 
 Baneino. 
 
 ANY persons will recall, even at this 
 remote lapse of time, the terrible com- 
 BUN ON A BANK. Hiercial and business revnlsion 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 ''the Great Panic." During the first- 
 named, every bank in the Union failed and suspended specie payment, with a comj)ar- 
 atively few exceptions. Extravagance pervaded all classes of society, and so genera? 
 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, dr stole it ; he who had, thought he made a generous sacri- 
 fice, if he lent it cent per cent. The tradesman forsook his shop ; the farmer his 
 
GREAT AND ME:M0IIABLE EVENTS. 
 
 645 
 
 plough ; the merchant his counter ; tlie 
 lawyer liis office ; tlie clergyman his study 
 
 to join the general cliase. The man 
 
 Avitli one leg, or he that had none, could 
 at least get on hoard 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 tlie path of wealth la}' 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 supposed. 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 the 
 Avestern 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 Avere 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 
 I)rices 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 fearful 
 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 
 
646 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 siniilar 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 
 susjiension 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 
 
 EXCITEMENT IN BUSINESS CIRCLES DURING TnE GREAT PANIC. 
 
 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 Avhich had not 
 yet stopped specie pajMuent, 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 ainoiint of coin 
 thus paid out, from eleven to three o'clock, 
 
 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 bills. At ten o'clock the doors 
 ojiened, police officers 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, and ruin, settled down upon the 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 647 
 
 people, and panic raged like a pestilence. 
 Indeed, the extent of the crash far ex- 
 ceeiled what it would have been, but for 
 the shock and terror which so needlessly 
 possessed men's minds at the instant, and 
 unbalanced their jiidj;inent. 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 di faculties, 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 3'ou 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." 
 
 "All — the times, eh? Well, they are 
 bad, very bad, sure enough ; but how do 
 they atfect 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 
 V 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 hon ? " (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, 3'es, 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 nu coatraire. 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?" 
 
 After 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 
 
648 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 succumb 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 Avay 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. Tldvty to forty thousand 
 2)ersons were at the same moment in the 
 
 EFFECTS OF THE 
 
 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 
 
 HARD TIMES. 
 
 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 649 
 
 every demand in checks and bills would 
 be met to the last, aud Panic be laughed 
 to scorn. 
 
 But, with all the anxiety and resolute- 
 ness de[iicted 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 cit\', 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 
 chafing 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, ]\Iag- 
 gies, Marj'S, 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 hex-, — 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 3'our name, I say ? " " Mary 
 McRagan I was christened, but I married 
 Pat Mill i kens." 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 sevent^'-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 your shirt," said another; 
 and several other methods were promptly 
 and merrily suggested by the sympathiz- 
 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 fort3'-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, 
 
650 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 " as good as wheat. Ketch our bank to 
 stop ! Yoos ought to seed tlie gold I seed 
 ill der safe ! " " How much was tliey ? " 
 inquired a companion. " More'n a house- 
 ful! ! " was the prompt response, "an' yoos 
 don't ketch dis 'ere chile a-makin' an oold 
 woman of liis-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 \}^j- 
 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 3'ou 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 viy money ? — yes or 
 KO ! " 
 
 They paid her instantly. 
 
 Not only in the great centers of business 
 and finance, like New York, Philadeli)hia, 
 Boston, 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- 
 proa(diing, 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 stej), 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- 
 eyed 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 b}^ this means, 
 probably, not a few houses, of that class, 
 managed to escape the hard fate that befell 
 others. 
 
 Thus, in a word, there Avas exhibited 
 the melancholy spectacle of a great nation's 
 commercial, financial, manufacturing, and 
 industrial interests in utter ruin, from one 
 end of the broad land to the other ; pros- 
 perity succeeded by abject adversity ; con- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 651 
 
 fidence supplanted by total distrust; a 
 paralysis of all trade ; the stoppage of 
 almost every bank 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 prod- 
 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 5 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 
 no 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- 
 honest 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 iu 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 compromised. 
 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 
 ti'ade, 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 any 
 other portion of the land — not more than 
 three ever acquired an independence. 
 This conclusion was not arrived at without 
 gi-eat 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 
 jierson 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. 
 
652 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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. 
 
 Notwithstanding 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. 
 
LXXYI. 
 
 THE "GREAT AWAKENING" IN THE EELIGIOUS WORLD ; 
 
 AND THE POPULAR REVIVAL MOVEMENT (IN 1875-6) 
 
 UNDER MESSRS. MOODY AND SANKEY.— 185T. 
 
 Like a Mighty Kushing Wind, it Sweeps from the Atlantic to the Pacific. — Crowded Prayer-Meeting8 
 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 Churches 
 of Every Name and Denomination. — The "American Pentecost." — Early American Revivals. — Dr. 
 Franklin and Mr. VVhitefield. — The Hevival of 1857 Spontaneous. — No Leaders or Organizers. — Its 
 Immediate Cause. — Universal liuin 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, Pugilists. — Jessie Fremont's Gold 
 Ring. — "Awful" Gardner's Case. 
 
 " What nothins earthly "ives, or can destroy, 
 The boul's calm eunshiae and the hvartfelt joy." 
 
 EVIVALS of religions feeling 
 and interest, attended with 
 great numerical accessions to 
 Ji0'' the church, have been not 
 
 unfrequent among the various 
 denominations of Cliristians in Amer- 
 ica, from the very earliest period of the 
 country's settlement; and, during the 
 eighteenth centur}', under the labors of 
 such men as Whitefield, Edwards, the 
 Tennents, and others, such results fol- 
 lowed as had never before characterized 
 any age or people. The labors of 
 Whitefield, in 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 
 
 BOOK OF BEQUESTS FOR PRAYERS. 
 
654 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 freely; 
 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 you 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 ppontaneous 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, but 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 praj'er-meetings in 
 that citj^ "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 i>ay 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, — the}^, 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, sj)ontaneous, it was 
 early accompanied by a systematic plan of 
 family visitation, in the principal cities, 
 and by noonday praj'er-meetings, in almost 
 every city, town, and village, from one end 
 of the country to the other. In such 
 places as New York, Boston, Philadelpliia, 
 Cincinnati, Chicago, Richmond, as well as 
 farther south and west, not only were the 
 usual houses of worship crowded daily, but 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 G55 
 
 the largest public halls were hired for the 
 same purpose, and resounded every day 
 with fervent prayers, songs of praise, and 
 earnest exhortations. 
 
 Thus, in Phihidelphia, 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- 
 day. 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 praj'er 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 the secular press. Indeed, 
 the fullness and candor characterizing 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 persons to enter, though such an 
 invitation seems no longer necessar}' : 
 ' Step in for live minutes, or longer, as 
 your time permits.' Inside notices arc 
 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 lawmen, 
 including merchants and gentlemen in the 
 legal and medical j^rofessions, 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 heavy 
 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 iss already found sufficient 
 
656 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 to crowd the entire ground floor of the 
 building. Many Methodist brethren at- 
 tend this meeting in preference to the 
 otlier, but the proceedings are character- 
 ized with entire catliolicity and freedom 
 fi-om 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 New York 
 Jolm 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 pi'ay 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 Prayer Meeting is 
 crowded ; upwards of three thousand pres- 
 ent; witli one mind and heart the}' glorify 
 our Father in heaven for the miglity work 
 he is doing in our city and country, in the 
 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 relitjion, 
 such as the Unitarian, Universalist, and 
 E[)iscopalian, 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. S.awyer, exhibited a warm 
 sympathy with the revival, and took an 
 active part in its progress ; pra\-er-meetings 
 were held twice a week, which were full}' at- 
 tended, a deep religious feeling pervaded 
 the congregation, and large numbers 
 united with the church. The card of invi- 
 tation to their prayer-meeting, which, like 
 that of other denominations, was exten- 
 sively circulated, read as follows : A gen- 
 eral prayer-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 ; 3'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 ver}' impressive 
 character. The meeting commenced with 
 singing the hymn, "Stay, thou insulted 
 Spirit, stay," a series of praj^ers followed, 
 after which Rev. Mr. Dickson delivered 
 a short address, founded on the Avords, 
 " Lord, are there few that be saved ? " 
 Other hymns were sung, and then remarks 
 made by Rev. Drs. Dj^er and Cutler, E])is- 
 copal rectors. Doctor Cutler said that, 
 twenty years ago, such a meeting as the 
 present one would have been denounced as 
 Method istical ; but he felt that he could 
 almost say, with Simeon of old, "Now, 
 Lord, let thy servant depart in peace," for 
 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 City of God. 
 
 Next to the Fulton street prayer-meet- 
 ing, in point of wide-reaching influence, 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 657 
 
 GKOUP OF EMINENT REVIVAL PREACHERS 
 
 DURING THE NATIONAL CENTURY. 
 
 42 
 
658 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the meetings for prayer held daily, at 
 noon, in Burton's tlieater, 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 
 performances 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 soul, 
 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 Iiis viot/ier — 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 j^ears old. 
 A family of ten children are praying 
 morning, noon, and night for him.' 
 
 ' The prayers of Christians are requested 
 for a young 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 j'ears. May I ask an interest in 
 your prayers that my husband may seek 
 7ioia 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 twentj'^-two 3'oung ladies, con- 
 nected with one of the Dutch Reformed 
 churches in this vicinit}', 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, 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVEN^TS. 
 
 659 
 
 south, east, and west, the "Wind of God 
 sweejiing 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 
 slopes 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, b}' 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, wath 
 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 praj^er, 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 dailj^ came under my 
 notice, I invited him in. He sat some 
 
 minutes in jierfect 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 w^ent 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 cit}', 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. 
 
6C0 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 At many of tlie telegraph offices, mes- 
 sages were constantly being sent to all 
 parts of tlie land, announcing conversions. 
 Some 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, you will re- 
 joice to hear that I have found peace with 
 God.' 'Tell my 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 scoffing 
 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 Jtis family 
 who should be guilty of the folly 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 Avith 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 i^assing by, 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, Brooklj'n, at 
 the close of one of the morning meetings, 
 a charitable collection was taken un. 
 
 1. 
 
 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 bea, — in allusion to a beautiful 
 incident in Fremont's passage of the 
 Bocky 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 pra3'ers of the con- 
 gregation, a request which on three differ- 
 ent occasions 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 imi)ortant 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." 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 661 
 
 A young man, heaving himself prayed 
 for by some friends, became so angry, that 
 he resolved to sell his farm and go west, 
 away from such interfering relatives. 
 Tliey continued to pray, and he tinally 
 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 pre- 
 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 universallj'^ in our land, 
 as by the efforts of these simple-spoken 
 but intrepid and warm-hearted reformers. 
 
 D.^ANKt 
 
 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, conciliator}^, and widely 
 useful religious movements characterizing 
 the historj' of our countr}^, 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 
 
662 
 
 OUE FIKST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the cause of the welcome extended them, 
 wherever they went, tind of the almost 
 invariably rich harvests which accom- 
 panied their labors. Nothing, in fact, 
 could better evince the favorable impres- 
 sion made by these evangelists upon soci- 
 et}'^, 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 hj 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 per- 
 form a work for which all lovers of man- 
 kind would be grateful." That this hope 
 
 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 
 accomijlished. 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 frenzy, 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 were 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 
 power. '*It is," he said, " the last time I 
 shall have the unsj)eakable 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 to-night," said Mr. Moody, looking 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 663 
 
 REVIVAL MEETING IN BROOKLYN, CONDUCTED BY MESSRS. MOODY AND SANKEY. 
 
 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, hut 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 da^'s I have been 
 preaching here, I have tried to allure 
 you 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 Avant 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, 3'ou 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 S[)irit 
 directed us up to a dead town, where we 
 held a prayer-meeting, at which, at first, 
 there were hut four jiersons x>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 
 country, 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's 
 
66-4 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 clergymen; 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 hj'mns wdiich 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 avast sea of humanity — now eager to 
 catch the earnest words of the speaker, 
 
 and, again, with heads bowed in solemn 
 pra3"er — was most impressive ; nor was 
 it less so, when, under Mr. Sankey's in- 
 spiring leadership, the joyous nniltitude 
 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 w^as 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 progress, 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 Sunda}', February 13th, the en- 
 tire attendance was estimated to be from 
 twenty to twenty-five thousand ; even as 
 earl 3' 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, r. 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 665 
 
 thousand. At all these services the order 
 was perfect, and all hearts seemed iu 
 accord. Though a Eoman Catholic, Dom 
 Pedro, emperor of Brazil, being iu tin; 
 city on his American tour, during the 
 holding of the meetings, became an audi- 
 tor, and was not only deeply moved by 
 
 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. 
 
LXXVII. 
 
 UNRIVALED PERFORMANCES BY PAUL MORPHY, THE 
 AMERICAN CHESS CHAMPION.— 1858. 
 
 His Extreme Youth, Marvelous Gifts and Genius, and Astonishing Triumphs. — The Most Renowned 
 Players in America and Europe Vanquished by Him. — His Wonderful Victories in Blindfold Games 
 with the Veteran Masters of Chess. — Morphy's Bust Crowned with Laurel in Paris — Honors and 
 Testimonials at Home — Morphy's Personal History. — Early Aptness for Chess. — Skill When Twelve 
 Years Old — Introduction to the Public. — At the National Chess Congress. — Great Champions There. 
 — Morpliy Takes the First Prize. — Wins Eighty-one out of Eighty-four Games. — Professional Visit 
 Abroad. — Challenges the Chess Celebrities. — His Boyish Appearance. — Modesty and Great Memory. 
 — Aspect when at Play. — His Brilliant Combinations — Feats Performed in Paris. — Long and Pro- 
 found Games — Great Match Against Eight. — Unparalleled Spectacle. — Victor over Every Rival. — 
 Without a Peer in the World. — Banquets to Him in Europe. — America Proud of Her Son. 
 
 " Mr. Morphy alvrays plays, not merely the best, but the vert bestmoTe; and if we play the move only approximately correct, we are 
 surctoloae. Nobody can hope to gain more than a game, now and then, from liim."— Akderssen, tub Chess CUAuriux in Gekmany. 
 
 EST and good humor possessed the puhlic mind, from one end of the 
 country to the other, as the triumphs of Paul Morphy, the chess 
 champion of the world, though scarcely yet attained to manhood, 
 were announced one after the other, in an almost unbroken series 
 at home and abroad, and against such odds as no 
 other person of similar years had ever before en- 
 countered. His name was a pleasant charm in 
 every mouth, and great was the honor accorded to 
 America when this New Orleans youth fought, and 
 fairly beat on their own ground, and in the pres- 
 ence of thronging crowds, all the greatest profes- 
 sors, not only in England but in Europe, of the 
 
 MOIll'HY'S WOKLU-HENOWNED TRIUMPHS. nOOlC gamC Ot ClieSS. 
 
 The history of this extraordinary young man, as given by his biographers at the 
 period named, shows an astonishing natural adaptation to and fondness for the game, 
 combined with the most patient and enduring study. He was born in New Orleans, in 
 June, 1837. His father, a lawyer, and judge of the supreme court of Louisiana, was 
 fond of chess, and taught it to his son at a very early age. His inclination to it was very 
 strong, and his assiduity in cultivating it enormous. At the age of ten years he was 
 familiar with the moves of the game ; and when he was only twelve, he pla3'ed with 
 the celebrated Herr Lowen^^hal — a European player of the first strength, who happened 
 to be visiting the Crescent City, — and the result was that the veteran and world-famous 
 player lost two games and drew one in contending with this little lad. Erom that time 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 667 
 
 forth, the name of Paul ]\rori)hy Avas noised 
 abroad in the chess circles of America witli 
 great commendation ; few were to be found 
 bold enough to cope with him, and when 
 they did so, it was to meet with unvaried 
 defeat. Such a phenomenon as Morphy 
 was perfectly unaccountable. 
 
 On the assembling of the National 
 Chess Congress in New York, in 1857, Mr. 
 Morphy was for the first time introduced 
 to the public. His youthful appearance 
 and wonderful power soon made him the 
 center of attraction, and as the labors of 
 the Congress proceeded, it became appar- 
 ent that he would be its champion — a 
 position that he finally won by the remark- 
 able force of his combinations and the 
 marvelous skill and foresight of his de- 
 signs, winning some eighty-one out of 
 eighty-four games, his opponents being 
 unrivaled players. Paulsen, Lichtenhein, 
 Thompson, Montgomery, Hammond, and 
 Stanley, all succumbed to his superior 
 power, and he carried off the first prize of 
 the American Chess Congress. 
 
 Confident in his powers, Morphy now 
 sent a challenge to Mr. Staunton, the 
 champion of English chess, inviting him 
 to play at a match, the stakes to be five 
 thousand dollars. But Mr. Staunton de- 
 clined, on account of the distance. Mr. 
 Morphy's enthusiasm soon led him to visit 
 England, and there the youthful hero was 
 received with most distinguished atten- 
 tions. His opponents at the chess-board 
 were the very strongest in the English 
 field, including such men as Lowenthal, 
 Boden, and other celebrities. Mr. Mor- 
 phy's appearance, during these great strug- 
 gles, is described by the English press as 
 exceedingly interesting — indeed, curious. 
 His slight, even boyish frame, his puny 
 limbs, small face (though redeemed by the 
 high and massive brow towering above it), 
 the almost infantine expression of his 
 features, rendered it difficult for English- 
 men to believe that this was the great 
 mental phenomenon of whom all were talk- 
 ing and at whom all were marveling. His 
 attitude was one of remarkable modesty, 
 evidently quite unaffected, — not a sparkle 
 
 of triuni])h iu his e3-e, not a flash of half- 
 concealed exultation on his cheek ; nothing 
 but a perfectly motionless and inscrutable 
 impassibility, a gazing calmly and stead- 
 fastly onwards to the end in view, as if 
 with a fixed determination to attain that 
 end; and an utter disregard for any small 
 triumph of conquest for doing what he was 
 irresistibly compelled to do. And as he 
 looked, so he was, invincible. Game after 
 game was won with a precision truly mar- 
 velous, and that not so much by what is 
 called steady play, as by a series of brill- 
 iant combinations, depending upon calcu- 
 lations involving sometimes many moves, 
 and followed out with an unerring cer- 
 tainty that must have been as terrible to 
 his opponent as it was admirable to all the 
 spectators. During one day, he played 
 and won eleven profound games, and, after 
 returning to his lodgings at night, he 
 recapitulated from memory, to a friend, 
 every game, pointing out the variations 
 minutely, and demonstrating the critical 
 positions at which each was won or lost. 
 This showed not only his superlative 
 genius as a player, but also his astonishing 
 power of memory. Among his antago- 
 nists in London was the renowned Mr. 
 Lowenthal ; fourteen games were played, 
 of which Mr. Morphy won nine, Mr. Low- 
 enthal three, and two were drawn. In- 
 deed, Mr. Morphy Mas victorious over all 
 who opposed him, in London, and on the 
 Continent it was the same. 
 
 In Paris, he encountered such men as 
 Harrwitz, Riviere, Laroche, Journoud, and 
 Devinck ; but the most celebrated rival 
 with whom he was matched, while in 
 Europe, was Adolph Anderssen, the ac- 
 knowledged champion of German chess, — 
 the result of this match being Morphy 
 seven, Anderssen two, drawn two. Though 
 deprived of his long-enjoyed sujDremacy as 
 the king among European chessmen, An- 
 derssen magnanimously said : " Mr. Mor- 
 phy always plays, not merely the best, but 
 the vei'U best move ; and if we play the 
 move only approximately correct, we are 
 sure to lose. Nobody can hope to gain 
 more than a game, now and then, from 
 
G68 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 him." And again, this great master of 
 chess said of his conqueror, " It is impossi- 
 ble to play chess better than Mr. Morphy ; 
 if there be any difference in strength 
 between him and Labourdonnais, it is in 
 his favor." Another great player, after 
 trying him, said : " It is of no use ; it is 
 uncertainty strurjgling against certainty. ^^ 
 Such astounding feats as those per- 
 formed by Mr. IMorphj', in Paris, brought 
 the excitement in the chess-playing world 
 of that city up to white heat ; and the 
 memorable occasion when he played against 
 and beat, blindfolded, eight of the best 
 plaj'ers of Paris, at one time, led some to 
 believe that he possessed almost super- 
 natural faculties. The cafe de la regence, 
 at which this extraordinary feat occurred, 
 had two large rooms on the ground floor. 
 In the first room, wdiich was full of marble 
 tables, were seated the eight adversaries of 
 ]Mr. Morphy. In the second room, in 
 which were two billiard tables, was seated 
 the single player. A large portion of this 
 room, including the billiard tables, was 
 shut off from the crowd by a cord, and 
 behind the tables, in a large armchair, sat 
 Mr. Morphy, with his back to the crowd. 
 Two gentlemen, reporting for the press, 
 kept the game, and two other gentlemen, 
 Messrs. Journoud and Riviere, cried out 
 the moves, or carried them from one room 
 to the other. The adversaries of Mr. 
 Morphy were all either old or middle-aged 
 men, and eminent as skillful players. 
 The boards of the eight players were num- 
 bered 1, 2, 3, etc., and at half-past twelve 
 o'clock the game commenced, Mr, Morphy 
 playing first, and calling out the same 
 move for all the eigiit boards, KP 2. At 
 seven o'clock, No. 7 was beaten with an 
 unlooked-for check-mate. Soon after eight 
 o'clock. No. 6 abandoned the game as 
 hopeless ; and, half an hour latei-. No. 5 
 played for and gained a draw game. "Nos. 
 1, 2, and 3, were soon after beaten. At 
 ten o'clock, No. 4 made the blind player 
 accept a draw game, but it was half-past 
 ten before M. Seguin, No. 8, a very old 
 gentleman, who contended with great des- 
 peration, was beaten. Thus he beat six, 
 
 while two, who acted on the defensive and 
 only sought a draw game — equivalent to a 
 defeat — effected their purpose. 
 
 During the entire game, which lasted 
 just ten hours, Mr. Morphy sat with his 
 knees and eyes against the bare walls, 
 never once rising or looking toward the 
 audience, nor even taking a particle of 
 drink or other refreshment. His only 
 movements were those of crossing his legs 
 from side to side, and occasionally thump- 
 ing a tune with his fingers on the arms of 
 the chair. He cried out his moves with- 
 out turning his head. Against 1, 2, 3, 6, 
 and 7, who were not up to the standard of 
 the other three players, he frequently 
 
 made his moves instantaneously after re- 
 ceiving theirs. He was calm throughout, 
 and never made a mistake, nor did he call 
 a move twice. And, as around each of the 
 eight boards there was a large collection of 
 superior chess pla_yers, who gave their ad- 
 vice freely, and who had eight times longer 
 to study their play in than the single plaj'er, 
 Mr. Morphy played certainly against fifty 
 men, and they never ceased for a moment 
 making supposed moves, and studj'ing their 
 game most thoroughlj^, during the long 
 intervals that necessarily fell to each board. 
 At the end of the game, a triumphant 
 shout of applause went up from the three 
 hundred throats present, many of them 
 Englishmen and Americans (among the 
 latter was Professor Morse, who took a 
 deep interest in this extraordinary game), 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 669 
 
 but miu'h the larger number were French. 
 IMorphy did not seem at all fatigued, and 
 appeared so modest that the frenzy of the 
 Erench knew no bounds. He was shaken 
 by the hand and complimented till he hung 
 down his head in confusion. One gray- 
 haired old man, an octogenarian chess- 
 player, stroked Mr. Morphy's hair with his 
 hands, as he would a child of his own, and 
 showered him with terms of endearment. 
 The waiters of the cafe had formed a pleas- 
 ant conspiracy to carry Morphy in triumph 
 on tlu'ir shoulders, but the multitude was 
 so compact and demonstrative that they 
 could not get near him, and finally had to 
 abandon the attempt. These blindfold 
 games he also played with equal success in 
 Birmingham. 
 
 No less a man than Mr. Mongredien, 
 the president of the London chess club, 
 went to Paris, still further to satisfy him- 
 self as to the real merit of Mr. IMorphy's 
 playing, and as to the rank he ought to 
 occupy. Mr. Mongredien and Mr. IMorphy 
 played eight games, one of which, the first 
 one, was drawn, and the others were 
 gained by Mr. Morphy. In this trial of 
 skill, two facts were remarked in regard to 
 Mr. Morphy's playing — which were also 
 almost universally remarked in his games 
 when contesting with a first-rate plaj'er. 
 These were, that he seldom won the first 
 game, and that up to about the twentieth 
 move he rarely showed any superiority 
 over his competitor. It was only after 
 that point in the game, that he commenced 
 those extraordinary and unlooked-for 
 moves which astonished the audience and 
 crushed his antagonist beyond hope of 
 recovery. 
 
 Previously to his departure from Paris, 
 a splendid banquet was given him, on 
 which occasion the most eminent French 
 jdayers did him the unprecedented honor 
 of crowning his bust with laurel. 
 
 Returning to America, the young Achil- 
 les of Chess was everywhere received with 
 spontaneous demonstrations of enthusiasm, 
 and in the great cities he was the recipi- 
 ent of splendid testimonials, worthy of his 
 achievements and renown. 
 
 It was in New York, that Mr. Morphy 
 was honored with such an ovation as rarely 
 falls to the lot of earth's greatest heroes, 
 and still more rarely in simple recognition 
 of a peculiar talent or genius. About fif- 
 teen hundred ladies and gentlemen were 
 in attendance on this occasion, and the 
 presentation speech was made by John 
 Van Buren, to which Mr. Morphy rei)liod 
 in a neat and graceful manner. The 
 cadeaux which he received from the chess 
 club were of dazzling magnificence, — chess 
 men in gold, boards of equally costly mate- 
 rial, wreaths of silver in imitation of laurel, 
 costly watches, etc., etc. 
 
 To the tune of " See the Conquering 
 Hero Comes," Mr. Morphy entered the 
 thronged and magnificent hall. As the 
 procession reached the platform, and the 
 figure of Morphy became visible to the 
 great body of the audience, the enthusiasm 
 of the assemblage was intense. Amidst 
 almost deafening applause, the youthful 
 champion took a seat assigned him by the 
 side of Mr. Charles O'Conor, and calmly 
 surveyed the exciting scene. To those 
 who had not seen the victor before, his 
 extreme ^^outh, mild expression and unas- 
 suming manner, were matters of complete 
 but most pleasurable surprise. The hero 
 of the Cafe de Regence, the successful 
 competitor of Harrwitz and Anderssen, the 
 champion of the world in the profound 
 game of chess, was but a lad in appearance 
 and demeanor, and evidently without the 
 least self-consciousness of his marvelous 
 power. 
 
 Mr. Van Buren, in his eloqiient present- 
 ation speech, gave a short review of the 
 history of chess and of the eminent per- 
 sonages who had distinguished themselves 
 as players ; alluded to the rapid course and 
 achievements of Mr. Morphy, who, in 
 1857, commenced his career in New Or- 
 leans, and, early in 1858, was the acknowl- 
 edged victor, over all competitors, at New 
 York, and had reached the culminating 
 point in the halls of Paris and London ; 
 spoke of the thousand and more years in 
 which chess had been known in various por- 
 tions of the world — that it had been taught 
 
670 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 and valued on the banks of the Ganges, in 
 the remote regions of Iceland — throughout 
 Europe, Asia, and in many parts even of 
 Africa; instanced Franklin, Charlemagne, 
 Catherine de Medicis, Leo X., Voltaire, all 
 ot whom were lovers of the game, and 
 Napoleon, who had played in the identical 
 cafe where Mr. Morph}'^ had won his victo- 
 ries. The orator then read a letter from 
 Professor Morse, who mentioned being 
 present at one of the games in Paris, 
 where Mr. Morphy was received with 
 great enthusiasm. A quotation was also 
 read from Dr. Franklin's writings, in 
 which he avowed himself the friend of the 
 chess board, pointing out its representation 
 
 to name j^ou "the chivalrous Bayard of 
 Chess." But it is not for your qualities 
 or conduct only as a chess player, that I 
 have united in this proceeding. Your 
 intercourse with your friends here, the 
 accounts we have from New Orleans, the 
 uniform representations from abroad, all 
 concur in showing that in high-bred cour- 
 tesy, true generosity and courage, innate 
 modesty and strict integrity, you have 
 illustrated at home and abroad the charac- 
 ter of an American gentleman ; and it is, 
 therefore, with unaffected pride, that I 
 have become the medium of conveying to 
 you the sentiments that I have expressed, 
 and that I again offer for your acceptance 
 
 I'ADL MOKl'lIV FLAYING EIGHT GAMES 
 
 of real life in inculcating foresight, circum- 
 spection, and principles of assault and 
 defense. 
 
 After felicitously describing Mr. Mor- 
 phy's position to be like one laying aside 
 his weapons, and sighing, with Alexander, 
 that there were no more worlds to conquer, 
 Mr. Van Buren closed by saying: " IVIr. 
 Morphy — Your readiness to engage at all 
 times, and with all comers, in chess con- 
 tests — your refusal to make the condition 
 of your health an excuse or a rea.son for 
 declining — your utter rejection of all ad- 
 vantages that might be your due in a con- 
 test, and the intrepid spirit you manifested 
 at Paris, induced Mons. St. Arnaut, one of 
 the ablest and frankest of your adversaries, 
 
 OF CHESS WITHOUT SEEING THE BOARD. 
 
 this appropriate token of the regard of 
 your countrymen and of their recognition 
 of your services." The orator concluded 
 by asking the vast audience to unite with 
 him "in welcoming, with all the honors, 
 Paul MorpJty, the Chess Champion of the 
 World, ^^ and sat down amidst the wildest 
 applause. 
 
 JVIr. Morphy, on rising to respond, grace- 
 fully accepted the gift, and, in the course 
 of his remarks, spoke of chess, " the kingly 
 pastime," as a game that " never has been 
 and never can be aught but a recreation. 
 It should not be indulged in to the detri- 
 ment of other and more serious avocations 
 — should not absorb the mind or engross 
 the thoughts of those who worship at its 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 671 
 
 shrine; but shoakl be kei)t in the back- 
 ground and restrained witlun its province. 
 As a mere game, a relaxation from the 
 severer pursuits of life, it is deserving of 
 (ligh commendation. It is not only the 
 most deligiitful and scientific, but the most 
 moral of amusements. Unlike other games, 
 in which lucre is the end and aim of the 
 contestants, it recommends itself to the 
 wise, by the fact that its mimic battles are 
 fought for no prize but honor. It is emi- 
 nently and emphatically the philosopher's 
 game. Let the chess-board supersede the 
 card-table, and a great improvement will 
 be visible in the morals of the community." 
 Mr. Morphy's manner and matter won 
 upon all hearts, and his pleasant speech 
 was followed by deafening cheers. 
 
 Another grand ovation awaited Mr. 
 Morphj' at Boston, to which city he pro- 
 ceeded soon after the close of the elegant 
 hospitalities extended him in New York. 
 On arriving in Boston, Mr. Morphy gave 
 a public reception, under the auspices of 
 the Boston Chess Club, whose guest he 
 was. A brilliant company of friends and 
 admirers assembled at an early hour, and, 
 on Mr. Morphy making his appearance, he 
 was ushered into a reception room, where 
 a large number of gentlemen crowded 
 around him, eager to see and greet the 
 youthful hero of numberless chess battles. 
 After having been introduced to several of 
 the most distinguished persons present, 
 Mr. Morphy was conducted into a large 
 and magnificent apartment of the club and 
 seated himself at a chess table, which was 
 surrounded by ladies of beauty and fashion. 
 
 Mr. Morphy quietly proceeded to ar- 
 range the chess-men, seemingly uncon- 
 scious of the fact that he was the conspic- 
 uous mark of multitudes of bright and 
 beautiful eyes. Mr. W. R. Broughton, 
 who was considered one of the best players 
 in the city, was selected as Mr. Morphy's 
 opponent. In order to lessen the crowd, 
 which was very large, arrangements were 
 made to announce the moves in the oppo- 
 site room, and the various tables therein 
 were speedily surrounded by those inter- 
 ested in the game. The game and com- 
 
 ments commenced simultaneously, Mr. 
 Murphy giving his opponent the odds of 
 the Queen's Knight. President Sparks, 
 Professor Longfellow, Professor Pierce, R. 
 H. Dana, Jr., Hon. Josiah Quincy, Jr., 
 Mayor Lincoln, Professor Huntington, 
 and other eminent men, were present, and 
 exhibited deep interest in the progress of 
 the game, at every successive step. 
 
 Mr. Morphy's moves were sudden, — gen- 
 erally made on the instant. Mr. Brough- 
 ton moved only after the most careful 
 study. " Do you understand the game ?" 
 inquired one venerable and distinguished 
 gentleman of another. " No ; but I am 
 deeply interested in Morphy ; he seems so 
 modest and self-possessed." '* That's true ; 
 there is something extraordinary in his 
 appearance, but I can't really make out 
 what it is." People generally conversed 
 in whispers, during the exciting joust, 
 pronouncing his moves "fertile," "brill- 
 iant," "dashing," and one young gentle- 
 man declared in a low tone of voice, that 
 the youthful champion was a " perfect 
 stunner." Gentlemen of advanced years 
 asserted, when the game was half-finished, 
 that Mr. Broughton "didn't stand any 
 sort of a chance." The game lasted until 
 ten o'clock, when Mr. Broughton acknowl- 
 edged that he was vanquished, and Mr. 
 Morphy was then introduced to a large 
 number of admirers, both ladies and gentle- 
 men, the great majority of whom had 
 remained standing during the entire even- 
 ing, so great was their interest in the 
 game. 
 
 For several successive daj's, Mr. Morphy 
 was the recipient of the most flattering 
 attentions in Boston, — feted in all sorts of 
 ways, and waited upon by many of the 
 most eminent men of the city and state, — 
 in all of which he maintained the same 
 modest and unassuming demeanor with 
 which fame had so long stamped him. He 
 won golden opinions from all who observed 
 or came in contact with him. 
 
 But the most notable event in Mr. Mor- 
 phy's reception at Boston, was the grand 
 banquet given in his honor at the Revere 
 House, May 31st, by the Boston Chess 
 
672 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Club. All the arrangements for the even- 
 ing were of the most superb and costly 
 description, the tables were covered with 
 the choicest viands, and the finest of music 
 enlivened the occasion. Among the dis- 
 tinguished persons at the tables were Chief 
 Justice Shaw, Professors Agassiz, Pierce, 
 Huntington, and Sparks, Judge Parker, 
 President Walker, of Harvard College, J. 
 E. Lowell, E. P. Whipple, James T. 
 Fields, Judge Thomas, Dr. 0. W. Holmes, 
 Hon. Josiah Quincy, Mayor Lincoln, Sen- 
 ator Wilson, and many others. 
 
 Dr. 0. W. Holmes presided, and made 
 a felicitous address of welcome to the guest 
 of the evening, who, he declared, had hon- 
 ored all who glory in the name of Ameri- 
 cans, as the hero of a long series of blood- 
 less battles, won for the common country. 
 
 Dr. Holmes concluded by giving, as a sen- 
 timent, " The health of Paul Morphy, the 
 world's cliess champion : His peaceful bat- 
 tles have helped to achieve a new revolu- 
 tion ; his youthful triumphs have added a 
 new clause to the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence." On rising to respond, Mr. 
 Morphy was received with nine tumultu- 
 ous cheers. He spoke of the unaffected dif- 
 fidence with which he stood in the presence 
 of such an intellectual audience, gracefully 
 tendered his thanks for the cordial welcome 
 extended him, and remarked upon chess as 
 the best relaxation amidst the more serious 
 pursuits of iii'e, and, as such, afforded an 
 excellent discipline for the mind. Mr. 
 Morphy's appearance was exceedingly pre- 
 possessing, and all hearts were united in 
 his favor. 
 
LXXYIII. 
 
 BURNING OF THE STEAMSHIP AUSTRIA, ON HER WAT 
 FROM HAMBURG TO NEW YORK.— 1858. 
 
 She Takes Fire on the Eleventh Day, from Combustion of the Hot Tar Used in Fumigation. — Three 
 Decks Instantly in a Blaze.— Inability to Stop the Engines. — The Ship Continues on Her Course in 
 Furious Flames — Torture ami Death in Every Form. — Nearly Five Hundred Men, Women, and 
 Children Lost. — A Hot Chain in the Bucket of Tar. — Sudden and Singular Ignition. — Rapid Headway 
 of the Flames — They Leap Up the SIirou<ls — Powerlessness of the Officers. — The Captain Panic- 
 Stricken — Frantic Conduct of Passengers. — Swamping of tlie Boats. — Children Trodden Under Foot. 
 — Writhing in the Heat — Shrieks and Cries. — Being Roasted Alive. — Only One Boat Afloat. — Jump- 
 ing Into the Waves. — Last Embrace of 
 
 Lovers, — Adieus of Husbands and 
 Wives. — Seven Brothers and Sisters. — 
 Struggles of the Firemen. — A Living 
 Wall of Fire. — Fate of the Women. — 
 Father and Son.— "A Sail! "—Rescue 
 of a Few. 
 
 T^^^^rt- " Then rose from fpn to slcv (he wild farewi 11. 
 
 ' " -^-^^^ Then shrieked the timid, u'nd stood 6iill the brave." 
 
 ESCAPE FROM THE BURNING STEAMER. 
 
 TARTLING and terrible as was the tragedy of the foundering of the Central 
 America, in September, 1857, the horrors which invested the burning of the steamer 
 Austria, in September, 1858, with her precious freight of hundreds of human beings, 
 sent such a thrill of agony through two continents, as no mortal pen can fitly describe. 
 
 The Austria was one of the four screw-steamers of the Kew York and Hamburg line, 
 was constructed of iron, and, in proportion to her size, rated as one of the finest and 
 strongest steamers tliat ever crossed the Atlantic. The measurement of this noble craft 
 was two thousand five hundred tons. 
 
 The ill-fated ship, commanded by Captain Heydtmann, sailed from Hamburg for 
 Southampton and New York, on the second of September, 1858, with passengers and 
 crew numbering five hundred and thirty-eight souls. On the thirteenth of September, 
 Captain Heydtmann and the physician gave orders to have the vessel fumigated, and 
 the fourth officer was charged with the execution of the order. He directed the boat- 
 swain's mate to take a bucket of tar and a piece of hot iron, and go into the forward 
 steerage to fumigate it. They heated a piece of chain and dipped it into the tar, to 
 make a smoke ; but the chain was so hot that it set the tar on fire. At the same time, 
 the other end of the chain became too hot to hold, and the boatswain's mate let it fall, 
 thus upsetting the bucket of tar, which, being already on fire, rapidly spread over the 
 deck in all directions. The flames from the tar immediately set fire to the berths and 
 43 
 
674 
 
 OUE, FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 mattresses in the steerage, and spread 
 along the deck with incredible rapidity. 
 In an instant it ran through the gangways 
 to the hatchways at the entrance of the 
 first and second cabins toward the poop, 
 blazing up through them like a blast fur- 
 nace, and thus cutting off all retreat for 
 those who were below. The cause of the 
 fire communicating to all parts of the 
 vessel so readily, was, that the day was 
 very pleasant, the wind light, with a 
 smooth sea, — and, in order to fumigate the 
 vessel more thoroughly, all the port-lioles, 
 state-rooms, and doors in the bulkheads, 
 were opened, to allow of a free circulation 
 of air and a complete ventilation. Thus, 
 in less than five minutes, the upper deck 
 amidships was on fire. 
 
 And now, an instantaneous 2'>0''nic arose, 
 'paralijzbirj alike the ship's company and 
 the passengers. 
 
 Every one on board appeared perfectly 
 wild, tlie women crjang out, " The ship is 
 on fire ! What will become of us ? " Some 
 gave themselves up to despair at once, and 
 engaged in loud and distressing appeals of 
 prayer; others shrieked and screamed; 
 others, again, swooned and became help- 
 less, and almost unconscious of the awful 
 fate that awaited them, of being burned 
 alive ; while but a small number, compara- 
 tively, of the human beings on board, had 
 presence of mind and firmness enough to 
 go properly to work to save themselves, 
 and even those met with impediments 
 which too frequently exist in such contin- 
 gencies to the saving of life. 
 
 Although there were ten boats, capable 
 of doing effective service, they were found 
 transfixed, as it were, to the chocks on 
 which they were kept, as though they had 
 been riveted to them with the expectation 
 that they would never be required. The 
 hose, designed for the extinguishing of fire, 
 was out of order, and the panic-stricken 
 captain, instead of organizing his oificers 
 and crew for energetic action in attempt- 
 ing to subdue the flames, or, if deemed 
 im[)ractical)le, in manning the boats for 
 the transfer of tlie women and children, 
 lost all command of himself. On hearing 
 
 of the fire, he rushed up bareheaded to the 
 deck, and when he saw the flames ex- 
 claimed, " We are all lost/'' In running 
 aft to the quarter-deck, he had to travel 
 through the fire, which already separated 
 the fore part from the aft part of the ship. 
 Captain Heydtmann, therefore, in break- 
 ing the flames, was much injured ; he was 
 seen later, by the first officer, standing on 
 the quarter-deck, apparently stunned by 
 the injur}' he had received. He was seen 
 again, trying to get out a boat, but which, 
 when let down, was swamj^ed, and he, fall- 
 ing into the sea — though some of the pas- 
 sengers state that they saw him jump 
 overboard — was soon left far behind. 
 
 Such was the terrible confusion now 
 prevailing, that children were trodden 
 under foot by the elder, distracted passen- 
 gers ; some persons ran up aloft into the 
 rigging, as though they would be saved in 
 that way; others, again, began to doff 
 their heavy clothing, and others to prepare 
 themselves for the final resort of jumping 
 overboard, and running the risk of being 
 picked up. There existed a regular boat- 
 roll on the vessel, so that each man knew 
 to which boat to attend, in case of need, 
 under the command of an officer, or sub- 
 officer. But the men were hindered in 
 getting to the boats by the frantic passen- 
 gers, who already had rushed to them. 
 The boats on the starboard soon caught 
 fire, this side being most exposed to the 
 flames. On the larboard, four boats were 
 lowered, but three of them were smashed 
 before reaching the water, by the people 
 overcrowding them, and one boat alone got 
 safely afloat. 
 
 The single boat which thus reached the 
 water without being smashed, was one of 
 the large metallic life-boats ; it was at first, 
 when lowered down, filled with peojile. hut 
 the weight was so great that many of 
 them fell out when the boat reached the 
 water. Thirty succeeded in keeping on, 
 but the boat capsized several times, being 
 full of water, and seven men were drowned 
 thereby. There then remained in the 
 boat the first officer and six of the crew, 
 besides one steward and fifteen passengers. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 675 
 
 BURXIXG OF THE STEAMSHIP AUSTRIA, 
 
 It was three o'clock when this boat got 
 free of the steamex', but, as the boat was 
 difficult of management, and the vessel 
 was still going ahead, the two became soon 
 separated. They tried hard to bail the 
 water out of the boat, but did not succeed 
 until a raft Avas constructed of the oars and 
 masts belonging to the boat, upon which 
 the passengers were placed, and then, the 
 boat being cleared of water, they were put 
 on board again. About one hour after 
 having left the steamer, they got sight of 
 the French bark Maurice, and on reaching 
 
 WITH FIVE HUNDRED SOULS ON BOARD. 
 
 her, found the third officer and some of the 
 passengers already on board. 
 
 As the flames increased, the poor, ter- 
 ror-stricken creatures on the bowsprit 
 jumped into the water as their clothes 
 caught on fire. One xvoman, iv'ith two 
 daitglitcrs, Icissecl them both, and then, 
 putting her arms around them, all three 
 jumped into the tvater. 
 
 An English lad}', who came on board at 
 Southampton, had three children with her 
 — a girl about five years old, a boy about 
 three, and a babe in her arms. The hus- 
 
676 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 band had jumped over, and as the flames 
 grew hotter and burned more fiercely, she 
 took lier little girl, kissed her, and threw 
 her into the water. She then took the boy, 
 a fair, healthy little fellow, embraced him, 
 gave him her last kiss, and threw him in ; 
 he struck on his back and struggled very 
 hard, rising to the surface three separate 
 times, calling out " Mamma," each time, 
 in the most piteous tones, then sunk to 
 rise no more. The poor woman then 
 clasped her baby to her breast and jumped 
 in with it, kissing it repeatedly as they 
 sank to the bottom. 
 
 A young man who was in tlie second 
 cabin, and who was going to California to 
 join his brother, had his sister with him, a 
 girl sixteen or seventeen j'ears of ago. 
 In order to save her from the fire, he 
 fastened a rope around her body, and, 
 making one end fast to the deck, let her 
 down over the side of the vessel. He then 
 put another rope around his own body, and 
 let himself down ; but the rope was not 
 well fastened, and, as he jumped down, it 
 slipped from under his arms and caught 
 him around the throat. As he struck the 
 water, the waves dashed him against the 
 vessel's side, and, falling back again, he 
 was quickly choked to death — his sister 
 meanwhile shrieking, "//t'//>.' help! will 
 nohodij help my hrotlier?^^ When last 
 seen, the poor girl was hanging there, 
 screaming and crying, with the waves 
 dashing the dead body of her brother 
 against her, every moment. 
 
 Similar in sadness was the case of an 
 Englishman about fifty years of age, who, 
 with his wife, crawled out on the bowsprit 
 as far as they could, and, as the flames 
 approached, they clasped their arms around 
 each other, gave one last kiss, jumped into 
 the water, and sank immediately. And 
 so, brothers and sisters, fathers and sons, 
 mothers and daughters, husbands and 
 wives, lovingly embraced each other, and 
 plunged into the waves. 
 
 Indescribably heart-rending was the 
 scene on the quarter-deck. Passengers 
 were rushing frantically to and fro — hus- 
 bands seeking their wives, wives in search 
 
 of their husbands, relatives lookinir after 
 relatives, parents lamenting the loss of 
 their children, some wholly paralyzed by 
 fear, others madly crying to be saved, but 
 a few perfectly calm and collected. The 
 flames pressed so closely u2:)on them, that 
 here, as at the bowsprit, multitudes leaped 
 over, and met a watery grave, the same 
 scenes being exhibited, of relatives clasped 
 in mutual embrace, plunging together into 
 the abyss of death. Two beautiful girls, 
 supposed to be sisters, jumped over, and 
 sank kissing each other. A missionary 
 and wife leaped into the sea together, and 
 the stewardess and assistant steward, arm 
 in arm, followed. So, too, lovers in tender 
 embrace, met the awful fate before them. 
 
 One Ilunrjarian gentleman, icith seven 
 fine cldldrcn, foiir of tliem (/i)'h, made his 
 wife jump in, then hlessed his six eldest 
 cltildren, made them jump in one after 
 another, and folloiucd them with an infant 
 in his arms. 
 
 Thus, in twos and threes, or singly, the 
 whole company met their fate. Several 
 hesitated to leap from the burning ship 
 until the last moment, as the height was 
 twenty-two feet, and were only, at length, 
 compelled to throw themselves off to avoid 
 a more frightful death. In half an hour, 
 not a soul was to be seen on the poop. 
 
 Such was the fearful progress of the fire, 
 that, almost from the very first, the flames 
 leaped up the shrouds, and licked along 
 the 3ards, until the sails were in a furious 
 blaze, so that buniing fragments of them 
 were continually falling on the persons of 
 those below, and setting the dresses of the 
 ladies on fire. One garment after another 
 was in this way destroyed, and the loss 
 of each article of clothing only exposed 
 the person more and more to tlie intense 
 heat. When they could no longer bear 
 up under this torture, they sought relief 
 in the yawning ocean. Some, however, 
 endured every possible suffering, before 
 taking this great and final step, a few of 
 the ladies, indeed, being almost disrobed 
 before leaping, as at last they were com- 
 pelled to, into the jaws of death. The 
 men, too, withstood the scorching of their 
 
GREAT AND ME]\IORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 677 
 
 bodies until tlicy were forced by its terror 
 into the briny deep, where they were gen- 
 erally engulfed at once. The women who 
 had an}' garments left, would be buoyed 
 up for a moment by them ; but in a few 
 minutes they disappeared as suddenly as 
 if some unseen power below had caught 
 them and dragged them under. 
 
 But the fate of the firemen would ap- 
 pear to have been even more dreadful. 
 Some of the passengers who, after jump- 
 ing overboard, were so fortunate as to save 
 themselves by swimming and floating on 
 I^ieces of timber, stated that when they 
 were in the water, tJiey saw agonizing 
 human faces 2')rofruding from the lower 
 tier of port-holes, close to the water, as 
 though they were trying to force their 
 way out, while the bright flames were 
 shining behind them. These were sup- 
 posed to be the firemen and engineers, 
 surrounded by a living wall of fire. When 
 the Austria left Southampton, she drew 
 only sixteen feet of water, and at the time 
 of this catastrophe probably a foot or so 
 less, so that she was about twenty feet out 
 of water. Hearing a loud cry of anguish, 
 one of the passengers looked over the 
 steamer's side, and there discovered a 
 man's head projecting from a port-hole, 
 the poor fellow seemingly making efforts 
 to force his way through the narrow aper- 
 ture, but on either side of his head a vol- 
 ume of flame was streaming forth, thus 
 giving the appearance that his body was 
 wrapped in flames. 
 
 The account given of the struggle and 
 fate of Mr. Rosen, as related by his son, 
 is full of mournful interest, exhibiting, as 
 it does, the warmth of parental instincts, 
 and the somewhat questionable filial duti- 
 fulness and affection of the son. The latter 
 saj-s : My father and I ran forward to es- 
 cape the fire, and were followed by the other 
 passengers. I saw the fire pouring out 
 through the skylights. In ten or fifteen 
 minutes more,the cry ran fore and aft, " To 
 the boats ! " All hands then crowded into 
 the boats, which had been hanging in-board, 
 but were now swung out by the davits. The 
 first mate mounted the rail near the forward 
 
 boat on the port side, in which we were 
 sitting with a large crowd of other passen- 
 gers. He ordered all of us to get out of 
 the boat, so that it could be lowered. But 
 as fast as one set got out, others rushed 
 into their places, and we also went back to 
 our first seat. The first mate then took a 
 sailor's knife and cut the tackle, and the 
 boat fell into the water. Falling from 
 such a height, the boat filled and sunk, 
 and all the people were washed out. I 
 came up under the boat, but I found my 
 way out, and clambered into the boat. 
 There were five or six oars lashed together, 
 and they floated out. My father came up 
 within reach of these, and seized hold of 
 them with five or six others. He saw me 
 in the boat, and called out to me, '* Oh, 
 my hoy, we are all lost ! " In a short time, 
 one end of the oar drifted near the boat, 
 and I caught hold of it to haul him in. I 
 also asked a passenger near to assist me 
 in saving my father. We pulled together, 
 but there were so many clinging to the 
 oars, we could not move them. The gen- 
 tlemen said, "It is no use; we cannot 
 move them." I then said to my father, 
 "Hold on, and do the best you can ; it is 
 impossible to move them." He then 
 drifted along near us, still clinging to the 
 oars. In this way he held on for nearly 
 four hours. I could not bear to look at 
 him, and we drifted in silence. There 
 was nothing in the boat to throw to him. 
 During this time the boat rolled over sev- 
 eral times, and many were drowned each 
 time. I was so exhausted I could not get 
 into the boat. I asked one of the passen- 
 gers to assist me, and he kindly drew me 
 into the boat. We drifted between two 
 and three miles astern of the steamer, and 
 could only see the flames rising above the 
 deck. There was no conversation, except 
 an occasional request by the first mate 
 that the passengers would sit still, so as 
 not to capsize the boat. My father by 
 this time had drifted so near the boat that 
 he caught hold of the stern. I was at the 
 bow and could not reach him. Mr. John 
 F. Cox said, "Charley, your father has 
 hold of the stern of the boat, and can get 
 
678 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 in." I said, "Oh, I am so glad that he is 
 safe." But he was so exhausted tliat he 
 held on only about five minutes, and then 
 sunk. Just before he let go, he said to 
 Mr. Cox, "7/" mij hoy is safe, I am sat- 
 isfied." 
 
 Some interesting details of the awful 
 catastrophe, not given in the preceding 
 account, are contained in the narrative by 
 Professor Glaubensklee, of the New York 
 Free Academy. Mr. Glaubensklee states 
 that he was in his state-room when the 
 cry of "fire" arose. He hurriedly thrust 
 his feet into his boots and ran out of his 
 state-room to go on deck, when he saw 
 ascending, in the vicinity of the funnel, 
 bright flames. Going on deck, he saw the 
 passengers crowding toward the boats, and 
 went to remonstrate with them, as many 
 
 on the port side; he was endeavoring to 
 get out the people who had crowded into 
 the boat, in order to lower it. Immedi- 
 ately after, the professor saw the first 
 engineer rush up on deck, bareheaded, to 
 see what was the matter. He was heard 
 to cry out, through the engine hatch, to 
 his assistants, to stop the engine and set 
 the steam-pumps to work ; at the same 
 time, he turned around for the purpose of 
 going down stairs himself. Nothing was 
 seen of him subsequent to this, but the 
 professor thought he did not succeed in 
 getting down on account of the flames. 
 Another passenger said that he saw the 
 engineer, with his clothes on fire, either 
 fall or throw himself overboard at about 
 the same time. 
 
 The engine was not stopped, and the 
 
 LAST VIEW OF THE UNFORTUNATE STEAMER. 
 
 of them were personally known to him. 
 He found, however, that they were deaf to 
 the voice of reason, and continued to crowd 
 to the boats. He at once resolved, that, 
 come what might, he would not trust him- 
 self in any boat, as it was evident that it 
 would be more unsafe to do so than to 
 remain by the ship. Turning around, for 
 the purpose of going back to the quarter- 
 deck, he found it impossible to do so, the 
 deck being on fire amidships, — the whole 
 vessel amidships seeming to be in a blaze, 
 and all communication between the fore 
 and after parts of the ship was cut off. 
 
 On first reaching the deck. Professor 
 Glaubensklee looked forward to see what 
 was the matter. The captain was then 
 standing bareheaded near the second boat 
 
 pumps were not set to work, owing, proba- 
 bly, to the fact, that the engineer on duty 
 — the engine-room being three decks be- 
 low — did not hear the first engineer's 
 commands, and may have been killed or 
 smothered previously, as the fire was 
 raging over their heads. 
 
 Finding it impossible to return to 
 the quarter-deck, Professor Glaubensklee 
 turned toward the forecastle, when he was 
 called upon by a sailor to assist in cutting 
 down the jibs. In compliance, he climbed 
 up a rope and cut away its fastenings. 
 The jib was cut down for the double jmr- 
 pose of preventing them from catching 
 fire, and also in order that they might be 
 saturated with water and used to check 
 the progress of the fire in the forward jiart 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 679 
 
 of the ship. The peoi)le on deck, however, 
 did not understand the orders, and threw 
 the sail overboard witliout first making it 
 fast to a rope, and so it was lost. There- 
 upon, the professor went in search of some- 
 thing out of which to construct a raft. 
 The mate, several of the crew, and espe- 
 cially the master's mate, did the same. 
 But they could find no wood left, and the 
 forward part of the ship was of iron. The 
 spare spars and hatchway doors and 
 covers had already been thrown over- 
 board, to sustain other persons. The pro- 
 fessor then inquired of the master's mate 
 if there were no pumps forward, which 
 could be set to work ; but he replied that 
 there were none. 
 
 As a last resort. Professor Glaubensklee 
 stepped over the starboard bulwarks upon 
 the plank sheer — a ledge some eighteen 
 inches wide — and looked out for the two 
 vessels which had been discerned in the 
 distance. Tlie one which was closest 
 seemed to approach very rapidly. At this 
 time, the steamer was still moving on in 
 its course, westward, towards her. The 
 other vessel did not approach, and Profes- 
 601 Glaubensklee's opinion was that her 
 peojile did not see the steamer, as, when 
 he saw her, only the top of her masts could 
 be seen above the horizon. But Captain 
 Renaud, of the bark Maurice, who at that 
 time was close enough to see her mainsails 
 and even her hull itself, subsequently said 
 that he had signaled her but without suc- 
 cess, as she did not answer the signal, but 
 kept on her way. Renaud was furious at 
 their apparent inhumanity, more especially 
 as he thought it might have been a French 
 vessel. 
 
 About three-quarters of an liour after 
 the fire broke out, the foremast and shortly 
 after the mainmast fell over the starboard 
 side. The mizzenmast stood for some 
 time, perhaps half an hour later, and, 
 about the time the mainmast fell, it was 
 thought that the boiler exploded, as an 
 immense quantity of steam was seen to 
 rush up in the vicinity of the funnel. 
 The ship, which had till now been heading 
 west by south, commenced heading around 
 
 to the north, the engine having finally 
 stopped, and the smoke which had hereto- 
 fore gone aft, came over the starboard side. 
 About ten minutes later, the powder mag- 
 azine exploded. To those on board, the 
 explosion did not seem very severe ; the 
 whole quantity of gunpowder in tlie maga- 
 zine was within one hundred pounds. 
 
 As soon as the vessel had commenced 
 falling off before the wind, the position of 
 those on the forecastle became dangerous. 
 All those forward had been previously 
 secure, as the heat and flames were driven 
 to the stern. But when the ship ceased to 
 head to windward, the flames and smoke 
 went forward, and those who had taken ref- 
 uge on the forecastle were compelled to go 
 over the bows, and take refuge in the bow- 
 sprit, and in the forechains. On one of these 
 chains. Professor Glaubensklee crept out 
 as far as possible, followed by a crowd of 
 other persons, and held on by the double- 
 headed eagle which formed the ship's 
 figure-head. The bowsprit, martingales, 
 and every part of the fore-rigging below 
 the bulwarks, Avere then filled with peojile, 
 whose naturally dangerous position be- 
 came every minute more perilous, as the 
 smoke and fiery fragments blew over them. 
 The clothes of these people were constantly 
 igniting from the fiery flakes, and it re- 
 quired all their adroitness to prevent them 
 from blazing up and consuming them. 
 Fortunateh', the forward part of the vessel 
 was almost entirely of iron, or they would 
 inevitably have been driven from this their 
 only refuge into the sea. 
 
 Knowing that he might at any moment 
 find it necessary to jump into the water, 
 Professor Glaubensklee divested himself 
 of his boots, shirt, and everything else 
 that might impede him in swimming, 
 keeping nothing on but his trousers, which 
 he cut off some distance above the knees. 
 Thus they remained several hours, watch- 
 ing the coming ship, all the time specta- 
 tors of suffering and death in every form. 
 Some got shockingly burned, and others, 
 becoming exhausted, dropped off one by 
 one into the sea, and sank to rise no more. 
 
 The approach of the vessel — the Man- 
 
680 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 rice — now became very slow, as the engine 
 of the steamship ceased to move, and, as 
 the liglit wind liad died away, the burning 
 vessel lay becalmed and motionless. Nu- 
 merous ropes had been fastened to the 
 railing, the bowsprit, the chains and other 
 parts of the vessel ; and the people were 
 clinging to these, preparatory to lowering 
 themselves to the water, as soon as succor 
 should arrive. As the wind died away, 
 and the French bark remained motionless, 
 the hope which had heretofore animated the 
 survivors, died away with it. The other 
 vessel had disappeared. Another sail soon 
 showed itself above the horizon, probably 
 the Norwegian bark which was seen cruis- 
 ing around the wreck the next morning. 
 
 When the bark Maurice had got within 
 three-quarters of a mile of the steamer, it 
 fell calm, and Captain Renaud brought his 
 vessel to and lowered his boats. When 
 the first boat from the bark reached the 
 wreck, the poor creatures shouted, laughed 
 hysterically, and shed tears of joy, for 
 their deliverance. Professor Glaubens- 
 klee, as the boat neared him, sprang into 
 the water and swam toward her. He suc- 
 ceeded in reaching her, and proved to be 
 the first person taken from the Avater. 
 Four or five persons more were picked up, 
 and then they hurried back with their 
 precious freight. About midway between 
 the steamship and the vessel, they en- 
 countered what they supposed was a corpse 
 floating in the water, face uppermost. The 
 mate of the Maurice insisted on picking it 
 up, when it proved to be the body of The- 
 odore Eisfeld, who was restored to life some 
 time after being put on board the vessel. 
 
 On reaching the Maurice, the rescued 
 people were kindly received by Captain 
 Renaud aiul his men, who set about pro- 
 viding them witli clothes, and binding up 
 their wounds. Two boats were kept plying 
 between the Maurice and the steamer, 
 until nightfall. At that time, probably 
 from ten to twenty persons were clinging 
 to the bowsprit of the steamer and the 
 ropes suspended from it. Captain Renaud 
 was afraid to risk tlie lives of his men in 
 an open boat, after dark, so the good work 
 
 was suspended. Soon after sunset, one of 
 the life-boats of the steamer, containing 
 the first officer and about twelve others, 
 was taken on board. 
 
 Most of the rescued ones were nearly 
 naked; some of them quite so. Captain 
 Renaud and his men had distributed all 
 the clothing they had to them, reserving 
 to their own use only that which they had 
 on. The people saved in the life-boat were 
 wet and chilled through ; these were also 
 furnished with suitable clothing. 
 
 Captain Renaud concluded to remain all 
 night near the steamer, and renew the 
 search in the morning. During the night, 
 tents of old sails and spars were made on 
 deck, under which the rescued slept. The 
 captain devoted himself to the wants of the 
 suffering. 
 
 Early the next morning, a breeze sprang 
 up from the north, when the INIaurice's 
 sails were set, and she was headed once 
 more for the burning steamer. At day- 
 break, they saw a Norwegian bark near 
 the Austria, and one of her boats passing 
 around the steamer. The Maurice did 
 not pass the bark within hailing distance, 
 but they hailed the boat, without, how- 
 ever, receiving an answer, as she had no 
 speaking trumpet. As it was apparent, 
 even to the naked ej'e, that there were no 
 more persons on the wreck nor floating 
 ai'ound it, and, if there had been, that the 
 Norwegian's boat must have picked tliem 
 up, Captain Renaud availed himself of tlie 
 favorable breeze and proceeded on his 
 course. He was bound from Newfound- 
 land to the Mauritius, and had about four 
 months' provisions on board for a crew of 
 ten or twelve persons. But as these would 
 not last very long for the large number 
 added to the vessel's company, he con- 
 cluded to bear up for Fayal. Subsequently, 
 they fell in with the bark Lotus, which 
 took off twelve, carried them to Halifax, 
 whence the captain of the Prince Albert 
 tendered them passage to New York. 
 Thus, of the five hundred and thirty-eight 
 persons on board the splendid but ill-fated 
 Austria, the lives of only sixty-seven were 
 saved from the ravages of fire and flood. 
 
LXXIX. 
 
 BLOODY AND REVOLTING PRIZE-FIGHT BETWEEN JOHN 
 MORRISSEY AND JOHN C. HEENAN.— 1858. 
 
 Stakes, Two Thousand Five Hundred Dollars a Side. — Wonderful Muscular Appearance of the Com- 
 batants. — Eleven Terrific Rounds in Twenty-two Minutes. — Morrissey Declared Victor, and Hailed as 
 the " Champion of America." — Gala Day for RuflBans and Blacklegs. — A Disgrace to Civilization. — 
 Growth of American Pugilism — Result of Emigration — Branded as Felony in the United States. — 
 Remarkahie Career of Morrissey — Convictions for Various Crimes. — Serves in the Penitentiary. — 
 Fights with Yankee Sullivan. — Morrissey Wins — His Great Match with Heenan. — Public Atten- 
 tion Engrossed by it. — Spot Chosen for the " Sport " — Laws and Magistrates Sliunned. — The Con- 
 testants Shake Hands — Their Tremendous Prowess. — Blood, Brutality, and Mutilation. — Heenan 
 Staggers in the Eleventh Round. — Fails at the Call of " Time." — The Sponge of Defeat Thrown 
 Up — Morrissey at the "Post of Honor" — He Sets Up a Drinking Saloon. — Enters Political Life. — 
 Elected to Congress, — Truth Stranger Than Fiction. 
 
 " Tho' swelled, to bursting, every vein, 
 No token gave he yet of pain." 
 
 ACCOMPAM.MEXTS OF THE PRIZE RING. 
 
 "^■^//^^C, ^.. ^ TNTIL within a comparatively recent period, prize- 
 
 fighting has not been known in the United States 
 as a popular " entertainment," nor as a profession 
 conducted on regular principles or rules of so-called 
 muscular science. It however commenced several 
 years prior to the date fixed by this narration, and 
 the names of Hyer, Beasle^^, Kensett, Fuller, Ham- 
 mond, Secor, Bell, Sandford, McLane, McCleester, 
 McCluskey, Lilly, McCoy, and some others, have 
 early notoriety in the annals of this brutal and 
 demoralizing "sport," — a phase in the development of American society and habits, 
 which all good citizens have reason to lament as disgraceful to civilization, and, com- 
 pared with which, even a Spanish bull-bait is respectable. And yet the event here 
 narrated was one which, for the time, almost exclusively engrossed public attention. 
 
 Gradually, the taste for such exhibitions increased in the United States, — principally 
 the result of emigration from England and Ireland, — until professed pugilists were to 
 be found, in considerable numbers, in almost all the large cities, and the " ring" became 
 an established American institution, chiefly among the reckless classes. Nor have the 
 stringent statutes, enacted by most of the states, against these inhuman and criminal 
 spectacles, by which both the participants and witnesses are made legal offenders, been 
 able to prevent their frequent repetition. 
 
 More from the fact that the parties to the prize-fights here recorded became so noted 
 
682 
 
 OUK FIRST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 in their subsequent career, than from any 
 extraordinary peculiarity characterizing 
 these exhibitors above others of their class, 
 has this of 1858 been selected, in especial, 
 as a specimen or type of that barbarous 
 diversion, now, unhappily, so common, but 
 against which the moral sense of the com- 
 munity has, from the first, been most firmly 
 set. The account of the fight in 1853 will 
 very appropriately precede here the more 
 notable one of 1858, as showing, more fully, 
 the personal and professional character- 
 istics of that combatant who was thoiigltt 
 worthy to be transferred from the prize- 
 ring to the halls of congress ! 
 
 Surely, one of the most remarkable facts 
 in American life, character, and events, 
 is presented in the career of John Morris- 
 sey, who, though known only as a professed 
 pugilist from Ireland, and who, according 
 to the official record, had, in the course 
 of his adventurous life, been eight times 
 indicted for assault with intent to kill, 
 assault and battery, and burglary, and had 
 served nine months in the penitentiary for 
 breaches of the public peace, — was after- 
 wards elected, for successive terms, a mem- 
 ber of the House of Representatives of the 
 United States, his constituents comprising 
 the " Bloody Sixth " ward, in the city of 
 New York, including the famous " Five 
 Points " locality. Sullivan, nicknamed 
 "Yankee," but who, like Morrissey, had 
 come over from Ireland, ended his career 
 in California, by suicide, while in the hands 
 of the Vigilance Committee, by whom he 
 momentarily expected to be hung for his 
 various crimes. Heenan had earned for 
 himself the highest pugilistic renown on 
 both sides of the Atlantic, being considered 
 a foeman whose prowess it was an honor 
 to test. 
 
 The twelfth of October, 1853, was the 
 time fixed upon for the match between 
 Morrissey and Sullivan, the stake being 
 one thousand dollars a side; the battle- 
 ground selected was a place called Boston 
 Four Corners, about a hundred miles north- 
 east from the city of New York, near the 
 line between Massachusetts and New 
 York, but the ownership of which spot 
 
 was claimed by neither state. It formerly 
 was part of Massachusetts, and ceded by 
 the latter to New York, but the cession 
 was never ratified. From the time the 
 match was made, until the day of the fight, 
 the combatants passed through the usual 
 process of training. 
 
 Crowds left the city on the day appointed, 
 for the place designated, and the numbers 
 arriving from Albany and the adjacent 
 country, with these from New York, swelled 
 the number of sjiectators to some thousands. 
 The usual scenes of dissipation, tumult 
 and quarreling, were not wanting on this 
 occasion ; but, aside from the exhibition 
 itself, and its accompaniments, the spot 
 was picturesque in the extreme, and all the 
 trees and hillocks in the vicinity were 
 loaded with human beings. In the lan- 
 guage of the "ring," descriptive of the 
 exhibition, and which is here emploj'ed in 
 order that the affair may appear in the 
 same light as presented by those profes- 
 sionally concerned, the principals showed 
 at the time appointed, both looking in tip- 
 top trim, but Sullivan seemed old enough 
 to be Morrissey's father. Morrissey was 
 about twenty-two years of age. Sullivan 
 was fort^'-one, and he was thirty pounds 
 lighter, and three inches shorter than his 
 youthful opponent, who stepped into the 
 ring first, amidst much enthusiasm from 
 his friends and escorted by Tom O'Donnell 
 and " Awful " Gardner, and set his colors 
 with a long scarf representing the stars 
 and strij^es. Sullivan soon after made his 
 appearance, smiling as he stepped forward, 
 and was also received with acclamation by 
 his friends. Sullivan was escorted by 
 Billy Wilson and another friend, who 
 mounted Sullivan's colors with a very 
 piratical and death-dealing signal, com- 
 posed of a black silk cravat and still more 
 suspicious looking cords. A few minutes 
 before two o'clock, the two men shook 
 hands and toed the scratch, each with an 
 elegant attitude, time was called, and the 
 combatants fought. 
 
 Round 1. — Sullivan made a feint or two, 
 and then planted a stinging hit on Morris- 
 sey's nose. Morrissey struck out at Sulli- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 G83 
 
 van witli both hands, hut without reaching 
 liim. Sullivan got in another heavy blow 
 with his left hand on Morrissey's left eye, 
 whereupon INIorrissey made a rush at Sul- 
 livan, and, in getting away, Sullivan fell 
 through the ropes. 
 
 Round 2. — As the men came up, Mor- 
 rissey's nose was bleeding, and his left eye 
 somewhat swollen. Sullivan's seconds 
 claimed first blood. Morrissey led off with 
 his left, but was stopped by Sullivan, who 
 gave him another hard one on the nose, 
 and got away, Morrissey following and 
 striking out resolutely for Sullivan. His 
 blows, however, were either too short or 
 stopped by Sullivan, who, in return, put in 
 two or three severe ones on the damaged 
 spots on Morrissey's face, and then went 
 down. The superior science of Sullivan 
 was quite manifest, and his friends were 
 in ecstasies. 
 
 Round 3. — Morrissey's face looking 
 badly, his left eye much swollen, and his 
 nose and mouth bleeding profusely. He 
 opened the fighting, and both went at it 
 pell-mell, Sullivan stopping nearly all his 
 blows, and getting in easily on IVIorrissey's 
 countenance. Sullivan received a rap on 
 the left cheek in this round, which altered 
 its appearance materially. Sullivan closed 
 the round by hitting at Morrissey's body 
 and going down. 
 
 Round 4. — Morrissey's eje had been 
 lanced, to stop the swelling, but it was fast 
 closing. Sullivan went to work at him 
 ra[)idly, and got in four left-hand hits in 
 succession. Morrissey then made a tre- 
 mendous blow at Sullivan, which took him 
 on the side of the head and staggered him. 
 He, however, rallied, and got in two or 
 three more on Morrissey's face, and then 
 went down. In this round, Sullivan's left 
 hand appeared badly cut between the 
 knuckles, and, from his manner of keeping 
 it open, except when hitting, it was evi- 
 dent that it was badly hurt. 
 
 Round 5. — Morrissey's face appeared 
 shockingly mangled, while Sullivan's, al- 
 though his left cheek was much swollen 
 and his hand hurt, appeared all confidence. 
 This round was a sharp one. Morrissey 
 
 fought vigorously ; but Sullivan outfought 
 him at every point, putting in several 
 severe riglit-liunders. 
 
 Round G. — Morrissey presented a hor- 
 rible appearance, the blood streaming from 
 his noseaiul mouth in profusion. Sullivan 
 led off, and put in two or three more on 
 the sore spots when, in return, Morrissey 
 caught him a heavy left-hander on the 
 neck. This elated iiis friends, and cries of 
 " Go on, JoJtn, — a few more like that iri/l 
 finisJi him,'' were shouted by a number of 
 voices. The blow, although a stunner, did 
 not seem to affect Sullivan so much as was 
 expected, for he was soon again at work. 
 
 Round 7. — Morrissej^'s left eye entirely 
 shut up. Sullivan led off at Morrissey's 
 face, putting in one or two, and closed the 
 round by hitting INforrissey on the ribs and 
 going down. Sullivan was not touched in 
 this round. 
 
 Round 8. — Morrissey commenced the 
 round desperately, striking at and follow- 
 ing Sullivan about wildly ; but the latter 
 managed to save himself, and got down 
 without being hit. 
 
 Round 9. — Sullivan opened the game 
 by planting a sharp hit on the old wounds 
 of ]\[orrissey, jumped back, put in another, 
 stopped Morrissey's return, and got in a 
 third. Then some counter-hitting took 
 place, in which Sullivan had the best of it, 
 as Morrissey seemed to hit short. Sulli- 
 van down, as usual. 
 
 Round 10. — Sullivan's left eye was now 
 closing fast, and Morrissey managed in this 
 
684 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 round to put in another stinger on it. The 
 counter-hitting was severe throughout this 
 round, Sullivan getting in five for one on 
 !Morrissey. Morrissey presented a picture 
 at the close of this round truly revolting. 
 Sullivan closed the round in his usual way 
 of hitting Morrissey and then falling. 
 
 Round 11 — Sullivan's seconds now cau- 
 tioned him to keep out and take it easy ; 
 that he must surely win, if he would only 
 he careful. Sullivan went to work at the 
 lace, but he received a tremendous body 
 blow from Morrissey. 
 
 Round 12. — This round was a sharp and 
 a short one. Mon-issey rushed at Sullivan, 
 and, after a few counter hits, Morrissey 
 getting in a couple on Sullivan's damaged 
 ogle, and Sullivan four or five hits on 
 Morrissey's nose, Sullivan fell. 
 
 Round 13. — This was also of very short 
 duration. Sullivan hit Morrissey in the 
 face, and, in making a swinging hit with 
 his right hand, fell at Morrissey's feet. 
 
 Round 14. — Sullivan planted two sting- 
 ing hits on the nose of his adversary, and 
 received a return on his much disfigured 
 cheek. He went down as before. 
 
 At the fifteenth round, Morrissey's 
 friends began to look for a long fight, and 
 therefore told him to change tactics and 
 force the fighting, which he did. In the 
 seventeentli, Sullivan's friends, seeing how 
 things were working, advised him to 
 abstain from "rushing things," and hence 
 ensued an exchange of blows so severe and 
 scientific, as to cause loud continued cheer- 
 ing for both men, until, at last, Sullivan 
 contrived his usual slip down. 
 
 The general style of the first fourteen 
 rounds was then resumed and continued 
 until the end of the thirty-second, during 
 all of which Morrissey's appearance, from 
 such continual punishment on the face, 
 made him appear worse than he really was, 
 for he was yet firm and very active. Sul- 
 livan looked upon him as likely to give in 
 soon, and tried hard but unavailingly to 
 finish him off. At the thirty-third round, 
 however, jNIorrissey got cranky in the 
 knees ; and in the thirty-fourth, Sullivan 
 gave him at least a dozen blows in the 
 
 face, and at last fell from his own exer- 
 tions. At the thirty-sixth, Morrissej' yet 
 seemed to sink, and Sullivan got more 
 efficient. On the call for the thirty- 
 seventh, Morrissey's wonderful powers of 
 endurance seemed to take a new lease. 
 Sullivan got in, as usual, on the sore cheek. 
 Morrissey then dashed after him, rushed 
 him to the ropes, and lifted him entirely 
 clear of the ground, Sullivan keeping his 
 feet drawn up meanwhile. The seconds 
 of both parties now rushed to their men, 
 and high words and promiscuous fighting 
 ensued. During the confusion, ^^ Tune!'' 
 was called. The usual eight seconds addi- 
 tional were allowed, and then two or three 
 full minutes besides. Morrissey now, hav- 
 ing never left his post of duty, was hailed 
 as the winner, the referee pronouncing a 
 decision in his favor. 
 
 But by far the most noted of these 
 pugilistic encounters was that between 
 Morrissey and Heenan, the latter known 
 as the Benicia boy and "champion of the 
 world ! " This occurred October 20, "l8o8, 
 at Long Point Island, about seventy-five 
 miles from Buffalo, N. Y. ; the stakes being 
 $2,500 a side. There were eleven terrific 
 rounds, occupying twent3'-two minutes, 
 when Morrissey was declared victor. Mul- 
 titudes went from near and afar to witness 
 this barbarous exhibition; and it is no 
 exaggeration to say that the occasion was 
 a gala-day for ruffians, blacklegs, drunk- 
 ards, gamblers, and prison birds, — Long 
 Point being selected in order to escajje the 
 law and its officers, both those engag- 
 ing in these fights and those witness- 
 ing them being branded by the law as 
 felons, and punishable with fine and 
 imprisonment. 
 
 At this time, Morrissey's height was five 
 feet and eleven and three-fourths inches, 
 and his weight about one hundred and 
 seventy-three pounds. Heenan stood six 
 feet two inches, and his weight was consid- 
 erably more than Morrissey's. The colors 
 of INIorrissey were a blue with white bird's- 
 eye spots ; Heenan's were a long silk scarf, 
 with the American ensign at one half the 
 length. Heenan's appearance was hercu- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 685 
 
 lean, and that of Morrissey was pronounced 
 perfection itself. 
 
 Round 1. — After a little feinting for an 
 opening, Morrissey let fly his left, but was 
 stopped neatly. Heenan, letting fly his 
 right, caught Morrissey with a tremendous 
 hit upon the left eye. Loud cheers here 
 burst forth from Hienan's side, mingled 
 with cries of " First blood ! " Heenan dis- 
 charged three more with his left in rapid 
 succession, pressing Morrissey toward the 
 ropes. JMorrissey seemed surprised at this 
 unexpected cannonade, and some des[)erate 
 in-fighting followed, in which Heenan 
 seemed to be the master. Morrissey broke 
 away, and Heenan struck a stake instead 
 
 f.e.M 
 
 \Dr'£M^Vk 
 
 of his man, and seriously damaged two of 
 his knuckles. Heenan then rushed in, and 
 severe hits were exchanged, mostly in his 
 favor. Morrissey then seemed on the point 
 of throwing him, when Heenan broke the 
 hold, changed the position in his own favor, 
 and threw Morrissey heavilj^, falling upon 
 him. This round lasted five minutes, and 
 a more terrific one was never witnessed. 
 
 Round 2. — Both came up to the call of 
 time promptly, but both considerably ex- 
 hausted. No sooner had they reached the 
 scratch, than Morrissey led off with his 
 left, but was stopped. He tried again, and 
 got on the mouth, and was heavily cross- 
 countered on the nose, Heenan repeating 
 this twice in succession. Morrissey again 
 planted his left on the mouth, and his right 
 heavily on the ribs; but Heenan, from his 
 superior length of reach, was able to get in 
 
 his left without a return. He hit strong 
 and straight, and Morrissey fought rather 
 wild from exhaustion. At length they 
 clinched, and in the struggle Htenan's 
 hand was seen in a suspicious manner in 
 the face of Morrissey, which gave rise to 
 the cry of " foul," under the idea that he 
 was gouging. In the fall, Morrissey was 
 thrown, both going down togethei*. 
 
 Round 3. — Morrissey forced the fight- 
 ing and got home his left on the face, fol- 
 lowing it up with his right on the ribs. 
 Heenan countered, but was stopped twice 
 in succession. He would not be denied, 
 however, and cross-countered heavily on 
 the eye and nose, but received a terrific 
 left-hander over the region of the heart ; 
 and, as he came to close quarters, IVIorris- 
 sey administered a severe upper-cut, which 
 caused copious bleeding at the nose. 
 
 Round 4. — Neither were very prompt to 
 time, but Heenan was most fatigued. At 
 the scratch he let go his right, but wrs out 
 of distance ; he tried again, and got home 
 on the face, which staggered Morrissey. 
 The latter returned on the mouth, and, as 
 Heenan came in, administered a spanking 
 upper-cut, which caused the blood to flow 
 freely from Heenan's nose. 
 
 Round 5. — Both came up slow to time. 
 Morrissey's left ej'^e was in mourning, and 
 his nose swollen, but he appeared to have 
 got his second wind, while Heenan was 
 exhibiting unmistakable symptoms of dis- 
 tress. The former saw his advantage in 
 forcing the fighting, and led off with his 
 left, causing Heenan to stagger. The lat- 
 ter countered, but again did Morrissey get 
 heavily on the ribs. As Morrissey bored 
 in, Heenan steadied himself, and, with a 
 well-delivered and straight left-hander, met 
 Morrissey as he came, and hitting him fair, 
 knocked him off his legs; the yielding 
 nature of the ground, however, tending to 
 produce this result. This was the first 
 knock down for Heenan. 
 
 Round G. — Morrissey came up, improv- 
 ing everj'^ round, while Heenan was falling 
 off. The former took the initiative by 
 leading off and getting home on the mouth. 
 Both were out of wind, and stood looking 
 
686 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 intently at each other for a short space of 
 time, \Yhen tliey were called to the scratch. 
 ]Morrissey led off again, and got in his left 
 on the face, Heenan countering him on the 
 eye. IMorrissey threw Heenan, falling 
 heavily upon liim. 
 
 Round 7. — Heenan evidently had he- 
 come weaker, but Morrissey seemed im- 
 proving. On reaching the scratch, the 
 former led off, hut was easily stopped, and 
 Morrissey countered on the neck. He tried 
 it again, and although he received a heavy 
 right-hander on the eye, he again got home 
 a heavy rib-roaster. Some exchanges in 
 favor of Morrisse}' ensued, and, in the 
 struggle for the fall, Heenan was thrown 
 ]leavil3^ A cry of ' foul ' was raised against 
 JMorrissej', but was not allowed. 
 
 Round 8. — Morrissey led off, and forced 
 the fighting in Heenan's corner. He 
 lunged out his left, and caught the latter 
 on his ribs smartly, and planted his right 
 on the mouth. Heenan countered on Mor- 
 rissey's face, but with slight effect. He 
 laid himself open, however, to Morrissey's 
 attack, his weak state being painfully evi- 
 dent. In the close, Morrissey threw him 
 heavily. 
 
 Round 9. — Morrissey at scratch and led 
 off promptly, as it was evident that Hee- 
 nan was fast falling from weakness. He 
 countered him twice in succession, on the 
 face and ribs, wliile Heenan could only get 
 liome his right once. He almost turned 
 round from the impetus of his own blow 
 after missing Morrissey, as he was unable 
 to judge the distance correctly. IMorris- 
 sey followed him up to liis own corner and 
 forced the fighting, planting his right 
 occasionally on the body and his left on 
 the mouth and nose, causing a copious flow 
 of blood. At length they closed, and 
 Heenan was thrown. 
 
 Round 10. — Morrissej' again led off; but 
 it was evident that the fight would be 
 decided in his favor. He was strong on 
 liis legs, and came up to his man with 
 determination. With the other it was 
 clear that nature was exhausted fi-om the 
 tremendous hitting he had received. Mor- 
 rissey, indeed, bore evidence of the great 
 
 powers of hitting exhibited by his oppo- 
 nent. His left eye was nearly closed, his 
 mouth and nose out of shape, and a cut 
 over his eye. Morrissey got home a heavy 
 facer, and was countered by Heenan on the 
 brow. He let go his left, and again visited 
 the mouth, and, as Heenan came in, met 
 him with a dangerous upper-cut, which 
 took effect, rendering Heenan wild in his 
 delivery. Again did he deliA'er the upper- 
 cut, and with effect, as it almost turned 
 him round. Morrisse}' threw him easily. 
 
 Round 11, and last. — Morrissey got 
 heavily home on the mouth, and avoided 
 the return. He then, as Heenan staggered 
 in, gave him an upper cut, which caused 
 him to turn almost round. Morrissey met 
 him, and planted a tremendous blow on the 
 neck, which again almost turned him round. 
 He followed it up with two terrific riglit 
 and left banders on the ribs and tliroat, 
 which sent Heenan down. When time 
 was called, Heenan was still insensible, 
 and his seconds, seeing the state of affairs, 
 threw iij) the sjjonge in token of defeat, and 
 IMorrissey was hailed as " Chavijnon of 
 America ! " 
 
 All the courtesies of war followed with 
 the utmost grace, at the close of the fight. 
 IMorrissey was carried over to his fallen 
 foe, and, in true French style, kissed his 
 hand in token of his A-alor. Both were 
 borne from the field in the same wagon. 
 The next morning, Heenan left his 'card' 
 on Morrissey, and IMorrissey sent in return 
 a gift of one hundred dollars to Heenan, 
 who, although he declined a purse pre- 
 sented, accepted Morrissey's gift in token 
 of amity. 
 
 It Avould seem from the same newspaper 
 accounts from which the preceding narra- 
 tion is made up, that Morrissey and his 
 backers had, from the very first, expected 
 that he would trium])h. The betting at 
 the commencement was five hundred dol- 
 lars to three hundred, which was taken at 
 once ; one hundred to seventy was freely 
 offered. Morrissey liimself offered to lay 
 his opponent one thousand to six hundred 
 that he would win the fight, but the offer 
 was rejected — Heenan stating that he had 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 687 
 
 no money. Morrissey also offered to lay 
 five liundreil to three hundred that he 
 gained the lirst knock-down. Even betting 
 on the first blood, first fall, and first 
 knock-down, was currently offered. The 
 friends of Morrissey displayed the greatest 
 coniidence in him, and were willing to take 
 the above odds to any amount. Among 
 the bets laid was one between the trainers 
 of the men. Shepherd, Morrissey's trainer, 
 laid Aaron Jones 'ten English Sovereigns' 
 — fifty dollars — that Morrissey would win 
 the light, which was accepted by Jones. 
 
 So brutal and disgusting was the con- 
 duct of those who had the management of 
 this fight, that the opinion of it expressed 
 by Jones, himself an English professional 
 in the 'ring,' was that of extreme con- 
 tempt. The idea, too, of men going to see 
 a pugilistic set-to, armed to the teeth, was, 
 to him, a notion as novel as it was outrag- 
 eous. One incident, in particular, showed 
 the spirit rampant during the day. In 
 one of the rounds, Heenan was fighting 
 Morrissey up into his (Heenan's) corner. 
 Fearing, in the clench, one or both of the 
 men would fall on him, Jones endeavored 
 to move a little on one side, when Mulli- 
 gan, clapping his hand on a six-shooter, 
 cried, " Keep still — (a slight expletive) — 
 or I shoot you down" — (another slight 
 expletive.) Jones was one of Heenan's 
 seconds, and, being unaccustomed to such 
 scenes at home — though the English prize 
 ring is certainly as disreputable a scene as 
 need be, — he was in very natural fear of 
 his life all the while he was endeavoring 
 to fulfill his professional duty. 
 
 Morrissey stated in conversation, the 
 next morning, that he felt no ordinary 
 pleasure when his task was at an end; 
 that he went into the ring with a fidl con- 
 viction that he should not gain a bloodless 
 victory, and that he should get his brain- 
 pan pretty well knocked up; that it was a 
 much tougher job than he expected; add- 
 ing, also, that whoever fought Heenan, in 
 the future, must put up with a good deal 
 more punching than would do him good. 
 On being challenged by Heenan's friends 
 to another conflict, for five thousand dollars 
 
 a side, Morrissey declined ; indeed, pre- 
 viously to entering the ring at Long Point, 
 he declared his intention of making that 
 his last appearance, his purpose being to 
 set up a drinking-saloon. 
 
 But, til at he was to be selected to fill a 
 seat in the legislative hall where Clay, and 
 Webster, and Randolph, and Everett, 
 earned immortal laurels of wisdom and 
 eloquence, was a thought which, at this 
 time, had probably never entered his bat- 
 tered ' brain-pan,' nor had such an event 
 ever occurred even in the somewhat 
 speckled annals of the American congress 
 during the last half-century. The fact at 
 least kejjt good the old adage, that truth is 
 stranger than fiction. Still, though lack- 
 ing the advantages of an early education^ 
 and accustomed for so many years to the 
 companionship and pursuits of j^rize- 
 fighters and gamblers, Morrissey showed 
 himself to be in some respects, a man above 
 his position and contacts, his strong points 
 consisting largely in his manly candor and 
 strong common sense. \n an interview 
 between him and some highly resjiectable 
 gentlemen, held in New York, in the win- 
 ter of 1866, he conversed about himself 
 with unreserved frankness, and answered 
 courteously all questions that were pro- 
 pounded him by the persons present. He 
 said he had no idea of becoming a candi- 
 date for congress when the newspapers 
 first mentioned his name, but that so much 
 had been said against him by certain news- 
 papers, that he concluded to become a can- 
 didate and show them that, notwithstand- 
 ing their opposition to him personally and 
 to his party politically, he could be nomi- 
 nated and elected. 
 
 After his nomination, many of his 
 friends went to him and advised him to 
 close lip his gambling-houses and abandon 
 all business of that character. 
 
 " If I am elected, I must be taken as I 
 am," was his reply. 
 
 He seemed to understand and appreciate 
 the significance of his election, an over- 
 whelming vote being cast in his favor, and 
 the attitude in which, as a consequence, 
 he stood before the country. A poor, 
 
688 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 uneducated youth, when he came to Amer- 
 ica, he fell in with firemen, local politicians, 
 and gamblers, Lut said he had done the 
 best he could, and had always been fair 
 between man and man — had been a prize- 
 fighter and a gambler, but those were mat- 
 ters that could not be helped now; he 
 would make no promise for the future, but 
 did not intend that his friends should have 
 any cause to regret his future conduct and 
 course of life. His bearing, in congress, 
 was universally conceded to have been 
 intelligent, modest, and gentlemanly. 
 
 The most notable feature in Heenan's 
 subsequent professional eareer, was the 
 distinguished honor, as it was deemed, of 
 
 crossing the Atlantic to meet Sayers, the 
 great English pugilist, in what was termed 
 the " Grand International Match " between 
 England and America, Sayers appearing 
 as the champion of the former and Heenan 
 of the latter. The brutal set-to was wit- 
 nessed by a vast multitude from all parts of 
 the kingdom and the continent, including, 
 also, many from America, and British lords 
 and noblemen not a few. Every leading 
 paper, including the London Times, hith- 
 erto opposed to the thing, sent a full corps 
 of reporters to the spot, and Lord Palmer- 
 ston, in his place in parliament, humor- 
 ousl}^ vindicated the scene. The affair, 
 however, resulted in a ' drawn ' battle. 
 
LXXX. 
 
 nOMICIDE OF IIOX. P. B. KEY BY HON. DANIEL E. SICKLES, 
 MEMBEii OF CONGRESS, IN WASHINGTON, D. C— 1859. 
 
 Seduction of Mrs. Sickles by Mr. Key. — Tiieir Flagrant Criminal Intimacy. — Youtli, Beauty, and Dis- 
 tinguished Social Position of Mis. Sickles. — Full Confession of the Manner, Times, and Place of Htr 
 Guilt. — Mr. Sickles Tried for Murder and Triumphantly Acquitted. — Mrs. Sickles's Fashionable 
 Career. — Admiration of Her Charms. — Key's Amours in Female Society. — His Marked Attentions 
 to Mrs. Sickles. — An Anonymous Letter to Mr. Sickles — His Wife's Infidelity Disclosed — Plans to 
 Discover the Trutii — Sad Hevelations Made — Regular Assignations for Months — House Rented for 
 this Purpose — A Husband's Agony — Detects Key Signaling to Mrs. Sickles. — Kushts from the 
 House in a Frenzy. — Encounters Key on the Street — Angry Salutations: a Grapple. — Key Shot 
 Dead: Last Words. — The Seducer in His Coffin. — House of Infamy Described — Sickles Indicted 
 and in Court. — Public Rejoicings at the Verdict. — Mrs. Sickles's Brief Future. — Fair, Ruined, For- 
 given, Dead. 
 
 ' You scoundrel, you have dishonored my house— you must did"— Exclamatioh of Sickles, ojr fibinq at Ket. 
 
 NTP:NSE excitement filled the public 
 
 mind, when the tragic news was heralded 
 
 from the federal capital, that the Hon. Philip Barton Key, district attorney for the 
 
 District of Columbia, had been shot dead in one of the streets in Washington, by the 
 U 
 
690 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Hon. Daniel E. Sickles, member of con- 
 gress from Kew York, because of criminal 
 intercoui'se between Mr. Key and Mrs. 
 Sickles. This terrible homicide took place 
 on Sunday, February 27, 1859, and, not- 
 withstanding its sanguinary and deplora- 
 ble character, was almost universally 
 viewed as the inevitable sequel to a rela- 
 tionship of guilt between two of the par- 
 ties, such as, in its bold wantonness, had 
 rarely been equaled even in circles of soci- 
 ety far less distinguished. The circum- 
 stances of this event, as here reproduced 
 from the journals of the day, wall be found 
 to possess an interest equally rare and 
 sad, in the criminal annals of the centur3% 
 
 Of the three individuals immediately 
 involved in this transaction, Mr. Key was 
 the senior in years. He was a man of fine 
 presence, tall stature, and winning man- 
 ners, and belonged to a family which for 
 nearly half a century had been settled at 
 Washington, and moved in the highest 
 ranks. His father had been a prominent 
 man in his day, and composed the Star 
 Spangled Banner. About sixteen years 
 prior to the tragedy, Attorney Key mar- 
 ried a Miss Swan, of Baltimore. After 
 bearing him four children, this lady died 
 some ten years from the time of her mar- 
 riage ; since her death, Mr. Key remained 
 unmarried. Before his alliance with Miss 
 Swan, he was quite noted as a ''lady's 
 man"; and as a widower his prestige in 
 tliis respect returned to him, no man in 
 Washington being more popular with the 
 fair sex. 
 
 Mr. Sickles had for some years been a 
 prominent New York lawyer and politician. 
 In 1853, he married Miss Teresa Bagioli, 
 daugliter of an Italian music teaclier 
 residing in New York ; she was seventeen 
 years of age, very pretty and girlish, ex- 
 tremely attractive in manner, well edu- 
 cated, and charming in every way. The 
 same year, on the appointment of Mr. 
 Buchanan as minister to England, tlie 
 latter cliose Mr. Sickles as his secretary of 
 legation, to accept which, Mr. Sickles 
 resigned his office of corporation attorney 
 of New York city. He took his bride with 
 
 him to Europe, where her beauty attracted 
 the marked attention of the English, 
 Dutch, and French courts; and during her 
 whole residence in London, she received 
 the most flattering attentions from many 
 persons whose names are historical, and 
 was especially beloved by Lady Clarendon 
 and Lady Palmerston, as well as by other 
 leaders of the British aristocracy. A 
 daughter was in course of time born to the 
 happy couple, and named Laura. 
 
 Returning to America before the presi- 
 dential election, Mr. Sickles exerted him- 
 self actively in favor of Mr. Buchanan, and 
 was elected member of congress at the 
 time his patron was chosen president. 
 Subsequently, Mr. Sickles resided partly 
 at Washington and partly in New York. 
 At Washington, he lived in the most 
 fashionable quarter, on Lafayette Square, 
 within a stone's throw of the president's 
 house. His hospitalities were liberal and 
 graceful, — receptions, dinners,, and balls, 
 vieing with those of the most opulent sen- 
 ators and cabinet ministers. Of these 
 entertainments IVIrs. Sickles was the soul 
 and charm. Her being a universal favor- 
 ite, however, did not blind the eyes of 
 those around her to the particular atten- 
 tions paid her by Mr. Key. Long before 
 the final traged}', this intimacy between 
 the two had not onl}'^ been remarked in 
 society, but had led to notes between Mr. 
 Key and Mr. Sickles ; the latter, however, 
 became entirely satisfied by the explana- 
 tions made, and harmony continued. 
 
 It would appear that, in their subse- 
 quent proceedings, neither Mr. Key nor 
 Mrs. Sickles acted with ordinary prudence, 
 the frequency of their clandestine meet- 
 ings, and their mode of signaling to each 
 other, being too obvious to escape the 
 notice of others. Their guilty amours 
 were now approaching a deadly termina- 
 tion. On the 24th of February, Mr. 
 Sickles liad a dinner-party at his house. 
 After the dinner, the host and most of 
 the guests went to a hop at Willard's hotel. 
 As he was leaving his house, Mr. Sickles 
 received a letter, which he thrust, un- 
 opened, into his pocket. On his return 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 691 
 
 home, he opened this letter, and found it 
 to be anonymous ; it stated that a guilty 
 intrigue existed between Mr. Key and 
 ]\[rs. Sickles, and added that they were in 
 the habit of meeting at a house leased 
 from a negio, the location of which it 
 specified. Mr. Sickles spent a sleepless 
 night, and early next morning dispatched 
 a friend to the locality in question, to 
 watch. The friend saw nothing ; but, from 
 the inquiries he made, he ascertained tlu.t 
 a lady resembling Mrs. Sickles had, in 
 fact, been in the habit of meeting a gen- 
 tleman in the house designated. Armed 
 with these presumptions, Mr. Sickles 
 charged his wife with adultery. She ex- 
 claimed, " OA, I see I am discovered!" 
 and confessed her guilt, imploring her 
 husband to spare her. He declared that 
 he did not wish to injure her, but she 
 must put her confession in writing, which 
 she did. 
 
 PHILIP BARTON KBT. 
 
 In the confession made by Mrs. Sickles, 
 the most important statements are as fol- 
 lows : I have been in a house in Fifteenth 
 street, with Mr. Key ; how many times, I 
 don't know; I believe the house belongs 
 to a colored man ; the house is unoccupied ; 
 commenced going there the latter part of 
 January ; have been in alone and with 
 Mr. Key ; usually staid an hour or more. 
 There was a bed in tlie second story — I 
 did what is usual for a wicked woman to 
 do. The intimacy commenced this winter, 
 when I came from New York, in that 
 house — an intimacy of an improper kind ; 
 have met half a dozen times or more, at 
 different hours of the day ; on Monday of 
 
 this week, and Wednesday also; would 
 arrange meetings when we met in the 
 street and at parties. Never would speak 
 to him when Mr. Sickles was at home, 
 because I knew he did not like me to 
 speak to him. Did not see Mr. Key for 
 some days after I got here ; he then tcild 
 me he had hired the house as a place 
 where he and I could meet. I agreed to 
 it. Have walked there together, say four 
 times — I do not think more ; was there on 
 Wednesday last, between two and three. 
 I went there alone. Laura was at Mrs. 
 Hoover's ; Mr. Key took and left her 
 there at my request. I think the intimacy 
 commenced in April or May, 1858. I did 
 not think it safe to meet him in this house, 
 because there are servants who might sus- 
 pect something; as a general thing, have 
 worn black and white woolen plaid dress, 
 and beaver hat trimmed with black velvet ; 
 have worn a black silk dress there also, 
 also a plaid silk dress, black velvet cloak 
 trimmed with lace, and black velvet shawl 
 trimmed with fringe; on Wednesday I 
 either had on my brown dress or black and 
 white woolen dress, beaver hat and velvet 
 shawl. I arranged with Mr. Kej- to go in 
 the back waj'^, after leaving Laura at Mrs. 
 Hoover's. He met me at Mr. Douglass's ; 
 the arrangement to go in the back way 
 was either made in the street or by Mr. 
 Douglass, as we would be less likely to be 
 seen ; the house is in Fifteenth street, 
 between K and L streets, on the left-hand 
 side of the way. 
 
 The confession thus made by ^L's. 
 Sickles w^as written in her own hand, in 
 the evening. All that night, according to 
 the evidence given by inmates of tlie 
 house, she lay in great mental distress, 
 with her head on a chair. The ensuing 
 Sundaj'^, Mr. Sickles was i^i great agon}^, 
 tearing his hair, and calling on God to wit- 
 ness his troubles. In the morning, he sent 
 for his friend, Mr, Butterworth, wbo, on 
 his arrival at the house, found Mr. Sickles 
 almost beyond self-control, and exclaiming 
 continually, " I am a dishonored and ruined 
 man, and cannot look 3'ou in the face ! " 
 ]\L:. Butterworth counseled moderation ; 
 
692 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 and, on leaving the house for a few min- 
 utes, he was informed on his return, that 
 Key had just passed the house twice, wav- 
 insr or twirlins; his handkerchief three 
 times as a signal. 
 
 While conversing with Mr. Woolbridge, 
 a mutual friend who had also called, Mr. 
 Sickles came into the library and said he 
 had "seen the scoundrel making signals ; " 
 and he added, " My God ! this is horrible !" 
 Mr. Butterworth said, " Mr. Sickles, you 
 must be calm, and look this matter square 
 in the face. If there be a possibility of 
 keeping the certain knotoledge of this 
 crime from the public, you must do noth- 
 ing to destroy that possibility. You may 
 be mistaken in your belief that it is known 
 to the whole city." He instantly replied, 
 " No, no, my friend, I am not ; it is 
 already the town talk." To this, Mr. But- 
 terworth said, "If that be so, there is but 
 one course left for you, as a man of honor 
 — you need no advice." After a few 
 moments' silence, Mr. Sickles remarked 
 that he "was satisfied that Mr. Key had 
 been in the habit of making his signals 
 from a window of the club-house opposite 
 — and what surprised him very much was 
 that his wife strenuously denied this, 
 though freely confessing her guilt." Mr. 
 Sickles then walked into the hall, saying 
 to Mr. Butterworth, "Come, go over with 
 me to Stewart's room in the club-house, 
 and he may be able to inform me whether 
 Key has a room there, and for what pur- 
 poses he uses it." To this Mr. Butter- 
 worth assented, and walked out into the 
 street, supposing that Mr. Sickles was 
 following him. 
 
 Mr. Butterworth further stated that, 
 when he left Mr. Sickles in the hall, he 
 was satisfied that Mr. Sickles had no 
 weapons on his 'person. " He was without 
 his overcoat. He said nothing to me 
 about weapons, or the proliability of en- 
 countering Mr. Key. I walked slowly 
 down the avenue, on the south side, to the 
 corner, and, as I was crossing the street, I 
 saw Mr. Key advance a few steps toward 
 me. He saluted me, saying, "Good 
 morning, Mr. Butterworth. What a fine 
 
 day we have." I responded^ and said, 
 " Have you come from the club ? " He 
 said, " I have." I asked, " Is Mr. Stew- 
 art in his room ? " He answered, " Yes, 
 and he is quite unwell." I then said, " I 
 am going to see him. Good morning ; " 
 and turned to leave him. As I did so, I 
 saw Mr. Sickles, for the first time after 
 leaving his house, coming rapidly down 
 Sixteenth street, on the side next the 
 square, and then near the corner. I had 
 walked about thirty feet on my way to the 
 club, when I heard Mr. Sickles exclaim, in 
 a loud voice, 
 
 '■'■Key, you scoundrel, you have dishon- 
 ored my house — you mttst die ! " 
 
 Immediately turning around, Mr. But- 
 terworth states that he saw Mr. Key 
 thrust his hand into his vest or side coat- 
 pocket, to take a step in the direction of 
 Mr. Sickles, and, simultaneously, heard 
 the discharge of a pistol. Mr. Key then 
 rapidly advanced on Mr. Sickles, seized 
 him with his left hand by the collar of the 
 coat, and seemed to make an effort to 
 strike with something in his right hand. 
 Tliis proved to be merely an opera-glass. 
 Mr. Sickles backed into the middle of the 
 street, when he succeeded in extricating 
 himself from Mr. Key's grasj), drew a 
 pistol from his overcoat pocket, presented 
 it at Mr. Key, who retreated backward up 
 Sixteenth street, toward the club, and 
 threw something at Mr. Sickles — the 
 opera-glass. Mr. Sickles followed, and, 
 when within ten feet, fired. Mr. Key Avas 
 wounded. He staggered toward the side- 
 walk, exclaiming " IJonH shoot me ! " He 
 leaned for a moment against a tree, when 
 IVIr. Sickles advanced upon him, exploded 
 a cap, and then fired a third time. As 
 Mr. Key Avas falling, Mr. Sickles fre- 
 quently exclaimed, " Yoxi villaiv, you have 
 dishovori'd 7711/ lionise, and you must die!" 
 After Mr. Key fell, there was no more 
 firing. The wounds were mortal. 
 
 After Mr. Sickles's arrest and conveyal 
 to jail, he maintained a perfectly calm 
 demeanor, conversing with his friends, and 
 freel}' stating the particulars of the case. 
 He seemed to feel that he could have pur- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 693 
 
 sued no other course toward the deceased 
 — tliat no satisfaction which the law could 
 give would redress his wrong. Nor did he 
 conceal his continued love for his wife, 
 though depriving her of her wedding 
 ring and other marriage souvenirs. Mrs. 
 Sickles wrote Mr. Sickles several letters, 
 full of devoted expressions of gratitude for 
 his uniform kindness toward her, and of 
 heart-rending declarations of repentance 
 for having plunged him into so much 
 sorrow. His only fault, she averred, was 
 that of being too kind and over-indulgent; 
 had he been less so, and guarded her more 
 carefully by the exercise of a husband's 
 authority, she declared that her lamenta- 
 ble position would have been avoided. To 
 such an extreme of men- 
 tal agony did she be- 
 come reduced, and be- 
 lieving that if she con- 
 tinued long in such a 
 state of feeling, it would 
 probably end in de- 
 rangement o r self-de- 
 struction, appeal was 
 made by a mutual 
 friend, to Mr. Sickles, to 
 restore to Mrs. Sickles 
 the wedding ring which 
 he had taken from her 
 hand on the day of the 
 tragedy. Mr. Sickles 
 said, in response, that 
 under these circum- 
 stances he could not 
 resist the appeal in be- 
 half of one he had so long cherished with 
 such deep affection, and that while he was 
 willing to return the emblem of their 
 former love and union, he must, though 
 harboring no feelings of resentment, re- 
 turn it broJcen. 
 
 Mr. Sickles had many callers while in 
 jail, including members of the cabinet, and 
 of congress, innumerable, and other official 
 dignitaries. President Buchanan sent a 
 message of condolence to him. Mrs. 
 Sickles had but few calls from her former 
 friends. The scene at the jail, on the 
 arrival of Mrs. Sickles's mother and father, 
 
 when brought into the presence of Mr. 
 Sickles, was very harrowing, the screams 
 and sobs of the poor woman completely 
 overwhelming him. 
 
 Naturally enough, the house of assigna- 
 tion on Fifteenth street was, for a time, 
 the object of excited curiosity to multi- 
 tudes of visitors — a queer building, of 
 substantial brick, standing directly on the 
 street, two stories in height, narrow, with 
 a roof slightly sloping toward the sidewalk, 
 a small porch, and an L running back to a 
 muddy alley. For this house. Key paid 
 fifty dollars per month, and almost every 
 morning he was seen, at nine or ten o'clock, 
 to enter the front door. He came gener- 
 ally on foot, but sometimes on horseback, 
 
 y^^^^ 
 
 hitching his iron-gray to a convenient 
 post. He was in the habit of signifying 
 his presence in the house by a red ribbon 
 hung from an upper room in the rear, 
 which could be seen from the cross-streets. 
 Mrs. Sickles would walk down one of these, 
 usually K street, which was nearest her 
 house, and, upon catching sight of the 
 signal, this charming lad}' — one of the 
 most beautiful and idolized in the highest 
 circle of "Washington society, and but 
 lately the flattered and beloved companion 
 of Lady Palmerston and other leaders at 
 European courts — would dart between the 
 
694 
 
 OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 negro huts, up the blind and muddy alley, 
 and by a back gate reach the place where 
 the partner of her guilt and ruin was in 
 waiting. Sometimes she was in a morn- 
 ing dress, sometimes disguised, sometimes 
 with her face enveloped in a large hood. 
 
 The murdered man was conveyed to his 
 late residence and placed in his coffin. 
 The body was strewed with white camel- 
 lias. Tlie face was calm in expression, 
 and still wore the sandy mustache which 
 adorned it in life. For more than two 
 liours after the deceased was arrayed for 
 ])is final resting-place, a motley crowd — 
 boy and man, rich and poor, black and 
 white, free and slave — i)oured through the 
 parlor to take a glimpse of the corpse. 
 Only when the clergymen took their 
 jilaces did the mourners appear — few in 
 number, for the mother of the dead man, 
 more than seventy years of age, and who 
 in this last berearement mourned the vio- 
 lent death of the third of her five sons, 
 was in Baltimore, and the children were 
 with her. 
 
 On the fourth of April, ensuing, Mr. 
 Sickles was put on his trial for murder, 
 before the criminal court of Washington, 
 Judge Crawford presiding. The public 
 prosecutor was Mr. Ould, the new district 
 attorney, and associated with him was Mr. 
 Carlisle. The prisoner was defended by 
 Messrs. Brady and Graham of New York ; 
 Stanton, Cliilton, and Eatcliffe, of Wash- 
 ington ; and several others, among whom 
 was Mr. Tliomas F. Meagher. In a clear 
 voice, Mr. Sickles pleaded "Not Guilty." 
 
 The excitement during the trial was 
 most intense, and extended to the remot- 
 est parts of the land. A great amount of 
 evidence was put in, the discussions and 
 arguments of the learned ai-ray of counsel 
 were listened to by crowded audiences, and 
 profound solemnity marked every counte- 
 nimce. During the examination of his 
 friendj Hon. E. J. Walker, as the latter 
 was describing the spasmodic agony in 
 which he found Mr. Sickles, on calling at 
 his house February 27th, Mr. Sickles was 
 violently affected, breaking out into sobs 
 and profusely shedding tears, so that, sup- 
 
 ported by friends on each side, he was 
 obliged to be conducted to another room 
 for relief. The witness particularly, and 
 many of the spectators, were moved to 
 tears. The scene was one of deep inter- 
 est. In a few minutes Mr. Sickles was 
 brought back into court, his countenance 
 still indicating extreme mental suffering. 
 
 Two main propositions constituted the 
 substance of Mr. Sickles's legal defense, 
 namely, that the adulterer may be slain 
 with impunity by the injured husband, 
 and that, at the time of the homicide, Mr. 
 Sickles, goaded to exasperation, was in 
 such a state of mind that he was not 
 accountable for his acts. Nor did the jury 
 fail to be impressed when the pathetic 
 appeal was made to them, in the closing 
 argument, to place an estimate by their 
 verdict on the purity of the marriage bed — 
 for, if Mr. Sickles were to be convicted, 
 no man's wife or daughter would afterward 
 be safe. 
 
 On the retiring of the jurj^ to deliberate 
 as to what should be their verdict, many 
 of the audience crowded around the dock 
 to cheer and support Mr. Sickles, in that 
 pregnant moment of his fate. Among 
 them Avas the Eev. Dr. Sunderland, of the 
 Presbj'terian church, who, taking Mr. 
 Sickles by the hand, said, substantially, 
 " Sir, I have come to express to 3'ou my 
 heart-felt sympathy, and to sa}' that if the 
 voice of the people of this city could speak 
 at this moment, your acquittal would be 
 instantaneous. In case, however, an ad- 
 verse verdict should be rendered, be as- 
 sured that you have hearts around you, 
 and mine not the least warm of them, to 
 sustain jon in your affliction." INIr. 
 Sickles was much moved by this incident, 
 and expressed his thanks as well as his 
 emotion would permit him. 
 
 Time wore on, each moment seeming an 
 hour. At last the door was opened, and 
 the jur}' came in, one by one, and pro- 
 ceeded to take their seats in the box. All 
 restraint was forgotten, in the anxiety to 
 see their faces. Benches, and forms, and 
 tables, were mounted by the excited and 
 venturesome. All uproar, however, sub- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 695 
 
 sided instantly, when the judge directed 
 the clerk to cull the jurors' names. When 
 the twelfth name was called and res2)onded 
 to, a pin might have been heard to drop. 
 
 " Daniel E. Sickles, stand up and look 
 to the jury," cried the clerk, as he broke 
 the deathly stillness of the vast and anx- 
 ious assembly. 
 
 Mr. Sickles stood up. 
 
 "How say you, gentlemen; have you 
 agreed to j'our verdict ? " asked the clerk. 
 
 " We liave," answered the foreman. 
 
 "How say you; do you find the pris- 
 oner at the bar guilty, or not guilty ? " 
 inquired the clerk. 
 
 "Not guilty !^^ was the foreman's 
 prompt reply. 
 
 As these words fell from the foreman's 
 lips, there was one loud, wild, thrilling, 
 tumultuous hurrah sent up by the specta- 
 tors; cheer after cheer resounded in the 
 court-room, and it was taken up by the 
 multitude outside and repeated. Hats 
 and handkerchiefs were waved, and there 
 was one general rush for the dock. 
 
 Mr. Sickles, amidst the renewed cheers 
 of the assembled crowd, was taken out of 
 of the dock by Captain Wiley and Mr. 
 Brega, the former, one of Mr. Sickles's 
 most devoted friends, kissing him at the 
 moment of deliverance, and holding fast 
 by him as they tried to make their way to 
 
 the door. It was slow work, for congratu- 
 lations, earnest, loud, and frankly ex- 
 pressed, saluted Mr. Sickles at all points. 
 Finally, by dint of much crushing and 
 great exertion, a passage to the door was 
 effected, and as soon as Mr. Sickles was 
 recognized from the outside, the cheers 
 were again taken up. 
 
 Like wildfire, the news ran through 
 every part of the city, and from every 
 direction crowds were liurrying to the 
 court-house. The excitement was as in- 
 tense as it was instantaneous. As Mr. 
 Sickles stepped down the stone stairs of 
 the building, surrounded and supported by 
 his immediate personal friends, he was 
 enthusiastically cheered, and loud calls 
 were made upon him for a speech. With 
 considerable exertion, for he was fast be- 
 coming faint, he was got into one of the 
 numerous carriages in waiting. In the 
 same carriage were Messrs. Graham, Wi- 
 le}', and Brown, of New York. A move- 
 ment was made by the crowd to take the 
 horses out of the carriage and to draw it 
 themselves, but the movement was detected 
 in time and prevented. Mr. Sickles's car- 
 riage was followed to the very door of his 
 house, by an excited and enthusiastic 
 crowd, waving their hats and handker- 
 chiefs, and shouting their expressions of 
 
 joy- 
 
 The emotions of the counsel, when the 
 jury returned their verdict, were mani- 
 fested in various ways. Mr. Brady, in 
 spite of all his experience as a criminal 
 lawyer, became pale, nervous, and agi- 
 tated ; Mr. Stanton, unable to repress the 
 emotions of his big heart, is described as 
 having almost rivaled David, when he 
 danced before the ark of the tabernacle; 
 the usual stolidity of Mr. Phillips gave 
 way, and, covering his face with his hands, 
 he wept like a child; Messrs. Magruder, 
 Ratcliffe, and Chilton, pressed forward 
 and greeted their liberated client; Mr. 
 Meagher, in the exuberance of his heart, 
 clapped jieople on the back, and asked if 
 it was not "glorious;" Mr. Graham was 
 passive and undemonstrative, though one 
 of the first to welcome back his client to 
 
696 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 freedom. The district attorney' said, "he 
 thought it would be so." and his associate, 
 Mr. Carlisle, avoided the scene. As to the 
 jailor, he wept freely, and could not under- 
 stand Mr. Meagher when he condoled with 
 him on losing his tenant. 
 
 After all was over, nine or ten of the 
 jurors went to Mr. Brady's jiarlor, and 
 there, in the freedom of unrestrained con- 
 versation, expressed their real sentiments. 
 One of them said, " I want you, sir, to tell 
 the people of New York, that the citizens 
 of Washington are not behind those of any 
 other part of the country in devotion to 
 the family altar ; " and yet this juror was 
 spoken of, all through the trial, as one who 
 would probably dissent from the rest. 
 
 Another of the juroi-s, a 3'oung man, 
 brought with him his fiddle, with which 
 he had been in the habit of solacing him- 
 self and his fellow-jurymen, during the long 
 evenings of their seclusion, and jilaj'ed 
 several airs. He, too, had been regarded 
 with suspicion, because of certain political 
 antecedents. " But," remarked Mr. Brady, 
 " if we had known that he played the 
 fiddle we might have made our minds eas}^, 
 for no fiddler was ever known to find a 
 conviction of murder." 
 
 The foreman said that his only fear had 
 been that his health might not last him 
 throughout the trial, and that he hoped 
 that his latest posterity would honor his 
 memory, from his having served on that 
 jury. Another of the jury, — the wag and 
 mimic among them, — expressing himself 
 in regard to the justification of Mr. 
 Sickles, said he would not for himself have 
 been satisfied with a mere Derringer or 
 revolver, but would have brought a how- 
 itzer to bear on the seducer ! Of a some- 
 what different temperament was the mem- 
 ber who, on retiring from the court-room 
 with his fellows, withdrew into a corner, 
 and on his knees invoked divine guidance; 
 got up, entered into the deliberations, 
 again retired to the corner, and finally rose 
 with his mind fully made up in favor of 
 acquittal. 
 
 Consistently with his oft-repeated ex- 
 pressions of continued affection for his wife, 
 
 Mr. Sickles renewed his matrimonial rela- 
 tions with her, in a short time. In ex- 
 planation of his course in this respect, Mr. 
 Sickles said, in a published letter : " My 
 reconciliation with my wife was my own 
 act, done without consultation with any 
 relative, connection, friend, or adviser. 
 Whatever blame, if any, belongs to the 
 step, should fall alone upon me. I am 
 prepared to defend what I have done, 
 before the only tribunal I recognize as 
 having the slightest claim to jurisdiction 
 over the subject — mj^ own conscience and 
 the bar of Heaven. I am not aware of any 
 statute or code of morals which makes it 
 infamous to forgive a woman ; nor is it 
 usual to make our domestic life a subject 
 of consultation with friends, no matter 
 how near and dear to us. And I cannot 
 allow even all the world combined to dic- 
 tate to me the repudiation of my wife, 
 when I think it right to forgive her and 
 restore her to my confidence and protec- 
 tion. If I ever failed to comprehend the 
 utterly desolate position of an offending 
 though penitent woman — the hopeless 
 future, with its dark possibilities of dan- 
 ger, to which she is doomed when pro- 
 scribed as an outcast — I can now see 
 plainly enough, in the almost universal 
 howl of denunciation with which she is fol- 
 lowed to my threshhold, the misery and 
 peril from which I have rescued the 
 mother of my child. And although it is 
 very sad for me to incur the blame of 
 friends and the reproaches of many wise 
 and good people, I shall strive to prove to 
 all who may feel an interest in me, that, if 
 I am the first man who has ventured to 
 say to the world iV; erring wife and mother 
 may be forgiven and redeemed, in s])ite of 
 all the obstacles in my path, the good 
 results of this examjile shall entitle it to 
 the imitation of the generous and the com- 
 mendation of the just. There are many 
 who think that an act of duty, proceeding 
 solely from affections which can only be 
 comprehended in the heart of a husband 
 and a father, is to be fatal to my profes- 
 sional, political, and social standing. If 
 this be so, then so be it." Mr, Sickles 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 697 
 
 concludes his manly letter by asking that 
 the mercy of all may be extended to the 
 youthful and penitent mother of his inno- 
 cent child. 
 
 Beautiful, ruined, and sorrowing, Mrs. 
 Sickles lived but a few years after the ter- 
 rible tragedy. The career of Mr. Sickles, 
 
 as a successful Union officer in the war of 
 the rebellion— rising to the rank of major- 
 general, for repeated bravery on the blood- 
 iest battle-fields, — and as minister to the 
 court of Madrid, immediately following 
 the flight of Queen Isabella, is well known 
 to his countrymen. 
 
LXXXI. 
 PETROLEUM EXCITEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA.— 1859. 
 
 Discovery of Prodigious Quantities of Illuminating Oil in the Depths of the Earth. — Boring of Innu- 
 merable Wells. — Fabulous Prices Paid for Lands. — Poor Farmers Become Millionaires — Tlie Supply 
 of Oil Exceeds the Wants of the Whole Country. — Immense Exportations 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 Oil — First Attem.pt at Boring. — Plans for Sinking Weils. — 
 Their Exhaustless Yield — Intense Excitement Prevails — Kager 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 poured me out rivers of oil."— Job. 
 
 PETEOLECM WELL8. 
 
 V\ ICHEE. than the gold mines of California, in the qualities of 
 X\\ usefulness and convenience to the human race, are the oil 
 
 wells Avhich, so unexpectedly 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 :tortune 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 
 
GREAT AND INIEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 699 
 
 issued 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 wore accustomed to collect the 
 oil by spreading woolen cloths upon 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 earl}'^ 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^y. 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-lamps in the future cities of 
 Ohio. 
 
 So useful was the product of the oil 
 springs gradually found to be, that, in 
 1854, the Pennsyh^aniaRock 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 
 the 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 loas the first man tclio 
 attempted to lore 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 Rock 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 
 
700 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 a company called the Seneca Oil Compan}'^, 
 for the purpose of working the lands and 
 sinking wells, under the management and 
 control of Colonel Drake. Early in the 
 spring he remov-ed his tamily 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 
 difficult}', he employed a man who agreed 
 to sink wells for the Seneca company; 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 — tlie 
 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 state, in especial, became so 
 
 Boring 
 
 PETROLEUM WELLS 
 
 through forty-seven feet of 
 gravel and twenty-two feet of shale rocks, 
 with occasional small apertures in it, he 
 struck, on the twentj'-ninth of August, 
 1859, at the depth of about sevent}^ feet, 
 a large opening, filled with coal oil, some- 
 what mixed with water and gas. A small 
 pump on hand brouglit 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, 
 
 IN 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 Avells 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 j'ear. 
 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. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 701 
 
 well on the G. "VV. M'Clintock farm, the 
 Phillips well on the Tarr farm, the WillarJ 
 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 daily ; 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, 
 subsequently, 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 
 Alleghan}', 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 
 
 PBOCESS OF BOBIXG 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 faith in the general 
 result, but were willing that others should 
 embark in the business by sharing the 
 
702 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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, involved a most melancholy 
 loss of life, no less than nineteen human 
 beings meeting their 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 the proprietors of the well 
 and a very prominent man in the oil 
 region. Mr. Rouse lived for several days 
 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 oil. 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 emei'ged from the pit 
 equal to its size — about eight feet square ; 
 this column rose to a height of from fifty 
 to one hundred feet, varying 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 being 
 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. Eor 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 
 cloudy, 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 tire, has, 
 in fact, taken place in almost every part of 
 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 well, that flowed three thousand 
 barrels of oil per day. The Sherman well 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 703 
 
 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 in other wells 
 on the Tarr farm, but in the spring of 
 1863 he re-commenced the work on his old 
 well, and went 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 pump, 
 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 Avell, petroleum 
 had 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. IMr.W. PI. 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 
 Eranklin, 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 jietro- 
 leum in large quantities, were Brewer, 
 Watson & Co., whose enterjjrise was so 
 determined and untiring, 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 reaped 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. 
 IMowbray, agent for Scheifflin & Co., of 
 New York, made the first extensive pur- 
 chase of petroleum for shipment. Messrs. 
 Drake, Watson, Brewer, Kier, Abbott, 
 Mowbray, 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 
 Pennsj'lvania, 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 by 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 petroleum became almost universal, 
 as a cheap and excellent oil for burning. 
 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 county- 
 region was 1,020,126 barrels; in western 
 Virginia, 13,666; in Ohio, 10,676; in 
 Kentucky, 2,405. The trade involved in 
 this immense j^roduction became the most 
 important business of several cities in 
 Pennsylvania, Ohio, and New York, af- 
 fording employment and support for tens 
 of thousands of people. 
 
 An immense export trade soon began, 
 amounting, in 1863, to 252,000 tons' 
 
704 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 BURNING OF ONE OF THE GREAT OIL WELLS. 
 
 weight, or 28,000,000 gallons, valued at 
 $12,000,000, and employing 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 i)roducts ranging from 
 two hundred to twenty-five hundred bar- 
 rels per day being strucdc; 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 liero of that 
 well-known novel, "Half a INIillion of 
 Mone}'^," 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, ho 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, ho was glad at last to 
 fill the position of door-keeper to the trav- 
 eling minstrel company which his own 
 munificence had organized, — his farm on 
 Oil Creek having been disposed of at public 
 sale, for arrears due the government. 
 
 Time and space would indeed fail to 
 adequately record the doings of those sham 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 705 
 
 and reckless companies, which, availing 
 themselves of tlie 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 yet built), and having organized, 
 agreed to have the first of a series of pro- 
 posed wells dug, not by contract, as was 
 usual, but b}' 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-fneasured and reported on. Judge 
 of the surprise of the stockholders when, 
 to use the language of one of the patri- 
 archs in oil, tlte force of the oil from he- 
 low had shoved the hole up to eighty-six 
 feet! 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 
 45 
 
 beds, has yielded 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 case 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 vallej', 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 petro- 
 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 
 
706 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 from the impure waters of the early 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 lubrica- 
 tor, and, in some of its chemically prepared 
 states, is employed as- a dryer in paints 
 
 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 
 dijsinfectant. 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 ar- 
 ticle. 
 
LXXXII. 
 
 FATAL DUEL BETWEEN HON. D. C. BRODERICK, AND 
 
 HON. D. S. TERRY.— 1859. 
 
 Scene of the Meeting Near San Francisco. — Details of tlie Barbarous Encounter. — Broderick Falls 
 Mortally Wounded by His Adversary. — He expires in Two Days. — Flight of Terry. — Society 
 Shocked at the Event. — Parallel Case of Messrs. Graves and Cilley. — Politics and Dueling in Amer- 
 ica. — Broderick's Alleged Offense. — Terry's Challenge Accepted. — Terms of the Duel — Choice of 
 Seconds and Arms. — Aspect of the Two Men. — Serious Bearing of Broderick. — Terry's Fearlessne>8. 
 — Marking the Distance. — Its Murderous Shortness. — The Duelists Placed — Their Persons Kxam- 
 ined — " Gentlemen, are you Ready ? " — The Word Given. — Both Parties Fire. — Broderick Shot in 
 the Breast. — Last Sufferings and End. — Sorrow of the Community. — His Body Lies in State. — A 
 Similar Deed of Horror. — Congressional Tragedy in 1838. — Its Deadly Character. 
 
 " When public opinion is renovated, and chastened by reason, religion, and humonity, the practice of dueling will at once be discounte' 
 honced."— IIenkv Clay. 
 
 ^''%if 
 
 OLITICAL animosities among leading public men in the 
 United States have, in a multitude of instances, led to premeditated hostile meetings, 
 and these have not unfrequently resulted in the death of one or both of the combat- 
 ants. But rarely, since the tragical encounter between Messrs. Cilley and Graves, 
 in 1838, had society been so shocked as at the announcement that, on the thirteenth 
 of September, 1859, a duel was fouglit near San Francisco, between Hon. David 
 C. Broderick, United States Senator from California, and Hon. D. S. Terry, chief 
 justice of that state, in which Senator Broderick received a mortal wound, his death 
 occurring two days after. In the present lamentable case, the challenge proceeded 
 from Judge Terry, who, on the eighth of September, addressed a note to Senator 
 Broderick, as follows : 
 
 " Some two months since, at the public table of the International Hotel in San Fran- 
 cisco, you saw fit to indulge in certain remarks concerning me, which were offensive 
 in their nature. Before I had heard of the circumstance, your note of the 29th of 
 June, addressed to Mr. D. W. Perley, in which j-ou declared that you would not respond 
 to any call of a personal character during the political canvas just concluded, had been 
 published. I have, therefore, not been permitted to take any notice of those remarks 
 
708 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 until the expiration of the limit fixed hy 
 yourself. I now take the earliest oppor- 
 tunity to require of 3'ou a retraction of 
 those remarks. This note will be handed 
 to you by my friend. Calhoun Benham, 
 Esq , who is acquainted Avith its contents, 
 and will receive your reply." 
 
 The correspondence to which this com- 
 munication gave rise, finally led to an 
 agreement for a hosti'e meeting between 
 the distinguished parties, the terms of the 
 duel, as arranged by the seconds of the 
 respective gentlemen, being as follows: 
 
 1. Principals to be attended by two 
 seconds and surgeon each, also by a person 
 to load the weapons. This article not to 
 exclude the drivers of the vehicles. If 
 other parties obtrude, the time and place 
 ma}' be changed at the instance of either 
 party. 
 
 2. Place of meeting, on the farm adjoin- 
 ing the Lake House ranch. This is the 
 general neighborhood ; the precise spot to 
 be determined when the parties meet. 
 
 3. Weapons — dueling pistols. 
 
 4. Distance, ten paces ; jiarties facing 
 each other; pistols to be held with the 
 muzzle vertically downward. 
 
 5. Word to be given as follows, to wit : 
 The inquiry shall first be made, "Gentle- 
 men, are 3'ou ready ? " Upon each party 
 replying "ready," the word "fire" shall 
 be given, to be followed by the words 
 "one, two." Neither party to raise his 
 pistol before the word "fire," nor to dis- 
 charge it after the word " two." The 
 intervals between the words, "Fire — one, 
 two," to be exemplified bj' the party win- 
 ning the word as near as may be. 
 
 6. The weapons to be loaded on the 
 ground, in the presence of a second of 
 each party. 
 
 7. Choice of position and the giving of 
 the word to be determined by chance — 
 throwing up a coin, as usual. 
 
 8. Clioice of the two weapons to be 
 determined by chance, as in article 7th. 
 
 9. Choice of the respective weapons of 
 parties to be determined on the ground, 
 by throwing up a coin, as usual — that is 
 to say, each party bringing their pistols, 
 
 and the pair to be used to be determined 
 by chance, as in article 7th. 
 
 The meeting took place, as appointed, 
 on Monday, September 12th, at half-past 
 five o'clock in the morning, but the police 
 interfered and arrested the principals. 
 
 Next morning, however, the 13th, the 
 parties met in the vicinity of San Fran- 
 cisco, unbeknown to the police. Terry 
 was seconded by Calhoun Benham and 
 Thomas Hayes. Broderick was seconded 
 by the Hon. Joseph McKibben, member 
 of congress from California, and by another 
 gentleman. 
 
 When all hands arrived on the ground, 
 about seventy hands were found to be 
 present, including the principals. Terry's 
 seconds and advisors were constantly with 
 him, and he conversed with his friend 
 Brooks in quite a lively tone. On the other 
 hand, Broderick seemed to be absorbed 
 in matters disconnected with the issue, and 
 was talking earnestly with a couple of his 
 friends. During this time, Broderick 
 maintained himself cool and self-possessed; 
 but his antagonist seemed agitated, and 
 measured the ground in his direction with 
 an uneasy and anxious tread. The seconds 
 approached the armorer, examined the 
 weapons, turned several times, and pointed 
 to the white mai-ks that had been })laoed 
 on the field to establish the distance. 
 McKibben, in examining the pistols, 
 snapped a cap with an air of satisfaction, 
 as if the pistol suited him. Some conver- 
 sation was had ; one of Terry's friends 
 approached him and made some remark, 
 in reply to which Terry seemed to smile, 
 and became more calm than before. As 
 the affair was now reaching the crisis, 
 every eye was turned on the combatants. 
 
 Mr. Broderick's friends had a short and 
 earnest conversation, and retired. The 
 friends of Terry did the same with him, 
 and moved to one side. An official expres- 
 sion now notified the combatants to take 
 their relative positions. The distance was 
 marked white, and appeared to an observer 
 murderously close, — more than one man 
 present uttering the ejaculation that it 
 was downright murder to allow men to 
 
GREAT AND :ME^rORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 709 
 
 shoot at each other at so short a distance. 
 The principals, liowever, took their posi- 
 tions. Broderick divested himself first of 
 a dark-brown paletot, and cast his eye 
 along the ground separating him from 
 Terry. 
 
 A close observation of the countenances 
 of the two combatants, at this moment, 
 revealed in a striking manner their indi- 
 vidual characteristics. Judge Terry's lips 
 were compressed, his countenance darkly 
 sallow, and his whole appearance betrayed 
 that of a man without fear and regardless 
 of the consequences involved in so grave 
 a transaction. Wan and attenuated, he 
 stood a stolid monument on the field of 
 conflict. Senator Broderick could not 
 have been distinguished b}'^ the stranger 
 as a principal. With his hands folded 
 behind him, he held earnest conversation 
 with his friend, Mr. Haskell. He would 
 occasionally turn, scan the crowd, and rest 
 his eye upon some recognized countenance. 
 The muscles of his face were strong, and 
 his visage unrelaxed in any particular. 
 His lips, when not conversing, were com- 
 pressed, and his whole bearing was that of 
 a man who was about to meet a great 
 issue, and who was firmly- prepared for it. 
 
 Messrs. Broderick and Terry being 
 divested of their overcoats, were told to 
 take a vertical position by Mr. Benham. 
 The seconds then arranged upon the 
 weapons, and Mr. Benham, taking a pistol, 
 proceeded to Judge Terry, and placed it 
 in his hand. The latter took the pistol 
 in his left hand, passed it behind him, 
 connected both hands, stood for a moment 
 in that position, and then rested his 
 weapon on his left hand in front. Senator 
 Broderick, on being handed the pistol, 
 anxiously examined it, and at intervals 
 measured with his eye the ground between 
 himself and his adversary. He seemed to 
 take much pains in examining the weapon. 
 At length he braced himself up and took 
 his position. A frock coat which he wore 
 seemed to trouble him somewhat, and he 
 endeavored more than once to bring the 
 front tails closer. Judge Terry, in the 
 meantime, with the barrel of his pistol ' 
 
 resting on his left arm, held his eyes fixed 
 on the figure of his antagonist. 
 
 Before the word was given, Mr. Benham 
 approached Senator Broderick, who had 
 handed his watch, money, etc., to Mr. 
 McKibben, and felt his clothes and exam- 
 ined with his hands the body of the prin- 
 cipal. A nod of satisfaction showed that 
 he had found nothing concealed beneath 
 his vestments. Mr. McKibben then went 
 toward Judge Terr}'. The latter handed 
 to his second, Mr. Benham, a watch, 
 pocket articles, and a quantity of money. 
 I\Ir. Benham took the watch in charge, 
 but the mone}', with a flourish, he scattered 
 over the ground. Mr. McKibben then 
 examined the person of Judge Terry, 
 
 HON. D. O. BRODERICK. 
 
 expressed liimself satisfied, and took a 
 position to the right of Senator Broderick 
 and immediately opposite Mr. Colton. 
 The seconds of Judge Terrj' occupied sim- 
 ilar positions, with Mr. Benham on a line 
 with Mr. McKibben, and Mr. Haj-es on a 
 line with Mr. Colton, all the parties form- 
 ing a sextangle. 
 
 At precisely fifteen minutes to seven 
 o'clock, as the sun was endeavoring to 
 force his beams through a succession of 
 clouds that were passing north and south 
 over the head of Senator Broderick,^the 
 solemn moment, on which all were satis- 
 fied a life depended, — Mr. Benham gave a 
 rapid glance toward the skj-, detected 
 something to the disadvantage of his 
 principal, and approached Judge Terry. 
 The latter, who wore a large, rather stiff- 
 brimmed wool hat, had drawn the front 
 over his eyes. After his second, however, 
 had caught his ear, the front was turned 
 
710 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 up. Mr. Colton, then, in a clear, distinct 
 voice, called out the word He made con- 
 siderable pause between each announce- 
 ment — a pause, in respect to time, resem- 
 bling that which elapses between the 
 strokes of a cathedral clock bell. 
 
 Wlien Mr. Colton asked, " Gentlemen, 
 are you ready?'''' Judge Terry instantly 
 replied, *' Ready,''^ without moving from 
 his position, or relaxing a muscle. Sen- 
 ator Broderick, however, spent several 
 seconds examining the stock of his pistol, 
 which did not seem to fit his hand. When 
 at length he answered, " iiea<:/_j/," he did 
 so with a gesture, nodding his head and 
 inclining his body toward Mr. Colton. 
 Between the words, "Fire — one — two," 
 both parties shot. Broderick fired first, 
 and at about the last enunciation required 
 to convey the word " One." Terry shot 
 in a space of time afterward which it 
 would require in music to a quaver. The 
 word " Two," was scarcely started upon 
 when the judge fired. The senator's 
 shot was spent in the ground, some four 
 or five feet in advance of his right toes. 
 Judge Terry's took effect in the senator's 
 riglit breast, above the nipjile. 
 
 Immediately upon receiving his antago- 
 nist's fire, Broderick raised his right arm, 
 still grasping the pistol. It was the 
 impression that he had been shot in the 
 shoulder. His arm contracted, and a spas- 
 modic effort was made to brace himself 
 up. The leaden messenger, however, had 
 gone to a moi'e sensitive and vital part. 
 After endeavoring to summon the will to 
 resist the pressure that was bearing him 
 down, the head dropped in a recumbent 
 position over the right shoulder, the knees 
 bent outwardly, and at length, gently and 
 calmly as a child retiring to rest, Senator 
 l^roderick eased to the earth, pressing the 
 riglit breast with the liand still holding 
 tlie pistol, and lying on his left side. 
 
 Judge Terr}', in the meantime, main- 
 tained his position, keeping his eye con- 
 stantly in the direction of the fallen man. 
 In a few minutes, he was told that his 
 antagonist could not rise, and he there- 
 upon left the field with his immediate 
 
 friends. He drove rapidly into town, and 
 started at once from North Beach, where 
 a boat was in waiting, and pioceeded to 
 Oakland, where he took a private convey- 
 ance to Martinez, and thence was ferried 
 across to Benicia. Both in Martinez and 
 the latter place, flags were raised at half- 
 mast, caused hy premature reports of 
 Broderick's death. On arriving at Beni- 
 cia, Judge Terry took overland convey- 
 ance to Sacramento. 
 
 Senator Broderick was taken to the 
 house of his friend, Leonidas Haskell, 
 Esq., at Black Point, nearly two miles from 
 the plaza, and was seated in abed with his 
 face toward the bay, and propjied up with 
 pillows. Here, physicians attended on 
 him during the day, and hundreds of the 
 senator's friends hurried out to learn the 
 worst. There appeared little hkelihood (f 
 his recovering. He was able to speak dur- 
 ing the afternoon, but, owing to the wound- 
 ing of his lungs, the articulation was gen- 
 erally indistinct and unintelligible. The 
 internal bleeding caused liim intense pain 
 and a suffocating sensation. 
 
 On the 15th, at about half-past eight 
 o'clock in the morning, Broderick breathed 
 his last. At twelve o'clock the night pre- 
 vious, the indications appeared favorable 
 for his recovery, — his repose being easier, 
 his breathing more regular, and his gen- 
 eral condition imj)roved. At two o'clock, 
 in the morning, a change occurred for the 
 worse, and from that hour he failed rapidly. 
 At three o'clock, the last rites of the 
 Roman Catholic Church were adminis- 
 tered to him. At four o'clock, he had 
 fallen into a state of insensibility, from 
 which he never emerged. He never 
 uttered a word after four o'clock. 
 
 On the following Saturday, the lower 
 part of the Union Hotel was thrown open 
 to the public, and all day a vast concourse 
 thronged in to view the body of the 
 deceased senator, as it lay in state. The 
 corpse was placed in a metallic coffin, in 
 the inner apartment of the hotel, the 
 approach to which was hung with Ameri- 
 can flags. The outside of the building 
 was draped with habiliments of woe, and 
 
GREAT AND MEMOKAIJLE EVENTS. 
 
 711 
 
 THE BODY OF SENATOR BRODERICK 
 
 every face wore that unmistakable expres- 
 sion which denotes that some public 
 calamity has fallen upon the community. 
 The coffin was so placed that the moving 
 throng could file past and around it and 
 out through another door. The hands of 
 friends had wrought wreaths and bouquets 
 of flowers, with which the coffin was 
 loaded, and so numerous at last did these 
 become, that, no room being found for 
 them, they were placed on the floor about 
 the bier. The corpse was dressed in a 
 suit of black, with collar and neckcloth, 
 the hands lying along the sides, crossed 
 upon the body. The face was somewhat 
 shrunken, probably from the intense pain 
 which the sufferer had undergone during 
 the previous three days. It wore, how- 
 ever, the same expression as in life, and 
 the senator might almost have been sup- 
 posed to be in a deep sleep, so calm and 
 natural was the appearance of the face. 
 All day long, the crowd pressed in — men, 
 women, and children ; slowly they passed 
 round, lingering at the coffin, and gazing 
 with grief and reverence upon the last 
 spectacle. 
 
 An eloquent funeral oration was pro- 
 
 LYING IN PTATE, IN SAN FRANCISCO. 
 
 nounced by Col. E. D. Baker, in which 
 the speaker narrated his last conversation 
 with Senator Broderick, as follows : 
 
 " When he returned frcm that fatal 
 field, while the dark wing of the arch- 
 angel of death was casting its shadows 
 upon his brow, his greatest anxiety was 
 as to the performance of his duty. He 
 felt that all his strength and all his life 
 belonged to the cause to which he had 
 devoted them. ' Baker,' said he — and to 
 me they were his last words — ^ Baker, 
 ivhen I ivas stnuh, I tried to stand firm, 
 btit the How blinded me and I could not.^ 
 I trust that it is no shame to my manhood, 
 that tears blinded me as he said it. Of 
 his last hours I have no heart to speak. 
 He was the last of his race; there was no 
 kindred hand to smooth his couch or wipe 
 the death-damps from his brow ; but 
 around that dying bed strong men, the 
 friends of early manhood, the devoted 
 adherents of later life, bowed in irrepres- 
 sible grief, and 'lifted up their voices and 
 wept.' " 
 
 Such was the end of a popular senator 
 from one of the most powerful of the new 
 states in the Union. He represented the 
 
712 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 party in sympathy with the Vigilance 
 Committee, and of free soil and free labor. 
 Outspoken in his views, he naturally made 
 political enemies, and such was the hostile 
 determination with which he was pursued, 
 that, even had he escaped unharmed in 
 his encounter with Terry, there were 
 others ready and waiting to summon him 
 to " the last resort," and his fate seemed 
 inevitable. In this respect, his case pre- 
 sents a striking resemblance to the deadly 
 tragedy in which Hon. Jonathan Cilley, 
 of Maine, lost his life at the hands of 
 Hon. W. J. Graves, of Kentucky, in a 
 duel fought between them, February 24, 
 1838. Both parties were members of 
 congress, and the horrors of the affair 
 almost stagger belief. 
 
 Mr. Cilley, in debate in the house, had 
 made some reflections on the character of 
 Mr. J. W. Webb, editor of the New York 
 Courier and Enquirer, and the latter there- 
 upon sent a note by his friend, Mr. 
 Graves, demanding an explanation. Mr. 
 Cilley declined to receive the note, choos- 
 ing not to be drawn into any controversy 
 with Webb, but at the same time express- 
 ing his high resj)ect for Mr. Graves. 
 According, however, to the duelist's hair- 
 line theory of honor, Mr. Cilley's refusal 
 to receive the note from Mr. Graves, was 
 an implied reflection upon the latter, and, 
 after some further correspondence. Graves 
 sent a challenge to Cilley, by the hand of 
 Henry A. Wise, which Cilley accepted. 
 
 The parties met, by arrangement, on 
 the road to Marlborough, in Maryland. 
 Mr. Cilley was accompanied by his second, 
 Mr. Jones; by Mr. Bynum and Colonel 
 Schaumburg, as his friends ; and by Doc- 
 tor Duncan, as his surgeon. Mr. Graves 
 was attended by Mr. Wise, as his second ; 
 by Senator Crittenden and Mr. INIenefee, 
 as his friends; and by Doctor Foltz, as 
 his surgeon. Mr. Jones and Mr. Wise 
 immediately marked off the ground. The 
 line of lire was at right angles with the 
 rays of the sun. The choice of positions 
 fell by lot to Mr. Wise, and Mr. Jones 
 had the giving of the word. Mr. Wise 
 chose the jjosition at the north-westerly 
 
 end of the line. The distance was about 
 ninety-two yards. There was a strong 
 wind falling on the line of fire at an 
 angle of about forty-five degrees against 
 Mr. Cilley. 
 
 Mr. Graves's position was near a wood, 
 partly sheltered by it, and that of Mr. 
 Cilley was on higher ground, and in the 
 open fields. The caliber of Mr. Graves's 
 rifle was nearly twice as large as that of 
 Mr. Cilley's, and would receive a ball of 
 about eighty to the pound, while the rifle 
 of Mr. Cilley would receive a ball of about 
 one hundred and thirty-two to the pound. 
 Mr. Wise had two rifles on the ground, 
 one of which, not being loaded, remained, 
 by consent, in one of the carriages. 
 Shortly after three o'clock, the parties 
 exchanged shots. Mr. Cillej' fired first, 
 before he had fully elevated his piece; 
 and Mr. Graves one or two seconds after- 
 wards. Both missed. 
 
 A consultation now took place between 
 the friends of the principals, as to 
 whether an accommodation might not be 
 arrived at, but Mr. Graves still insisted 
 upon the demand made b}- him ujion Mr. 
 Cilley, and the latter re-asserted his posi- 
 tion in the matter from the very first, 
 namely, that he declined to receive the 
 note of Webb because he chose to be 
 drawn into no controversy with him — 
 that he also refused to disclaim any per- 
 sonal exception to Webb as a gentleman 
 or man of honor, because he would neither 
 affirm nor deny an^-thing in regard to 
 his character — and that, in declining to 
 receive the demand of explanation, he had 
 intended no disrespect to Mr. Graves. 
 
 Under these circumstances, the chal- 
 lenge was renewed, the parties resumed 
 their positions, and again exchanged shots. 
 Mr. Graves fired first, before he had fully 
 elevated his piece; ]\Ir. Cilley fired about 
 two seconds afterwards. They both missed. 
 It was at first thought by several of those 
 present, that Mr. Graves was hit — his 
 motions and appearance giving this impres- 
 sion. But he at once said, " I must have 
 another shot," — and this he positively, 
 peremptorily, and repeatedly insisted upoii. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 713 
 
 The seconds and friends again con- 
 sulted. Several of them objected, in the 
 strongest language, against the further 
 prosecution of the contest, insisting that 
 it sliould now cease, and that Mr. Graves 
 should declare himself satisfied. Others, 
 however, particularly Messrs. Wise and 
 Menefee, insisted that the fight should go 
 on, unless Mr. Cilley would make the con- 
 cessions demanded, namely, either a direct 
 disavowal of any personal exception to 
 Webb as a gentleman and a man of honor 
 — or, an indirect disclaimer, by basing 
 his refusal to receive Webb's note upon 
 the ground of constitutional exemption, as 
 a member of the house, from being called 
 to account for words spoken in debate. 
 Mr. Cilley still refused to yield his pre- 
 rogative of declining to receive a note 
 from Mr. Webb, if he saw fit. 
 
 Immediately previous to the last ex- 
 change of shots, Mr. W^ise said to Mr. 
 Jones, "If this matter is not terminated 
 b3'^ this shot, and is not settled, I will pro- 
 pose to shorten the distance." To this Mr. 
 Jones replied, " After this shot, without 
 effect, I will entertain the proposition." 
 Mr. Graves had directed Mr. Wise, if they 
 missed repeatedly, to prevent a prolonga- 
 tion of the affair by proposing closer 
 quarters ; and in consequence of this, Mr. 
 Wise made the proposition, which would 
 have aggravated the severity of the terms, 
 and made the barbarous encounter still 
 more a disgrace to the land. 
 
 Again the blood-thirstiness of " chival- 
 rous honor " demands a victim. The 
 rifles being loaded, the parties resumed 
 their stations, and fired the third time, 
 very nearly together. Mr. Cilley was 
 shot through the body. He dropped his 
 rifle, beckoned to one near him, and sim- 
 ply uttered the words, " I am shot,'''' — 
 immediately put both his hands to his 
 wound, fell, and in two or three minutes 
 expired. 
 
 It appears from the report made by the 
 committee of seven appointed b}'^ the 
 house of representatives to investigate 
 this affair, that, early in the day on which 
 Mr. Cilley met his unfortunate end, an 
 
 agreement was entered into between James 
 Watson Webb, Daniel Jackson, and Wil- 
 liam II. Morell, to arm themselves, repair 
 to the room of Mr. Cilley, tmd force him 
 to fight Webb with pistols on the sjjot, 
 or to pledge his word of honor to give 
 Webb a meeting before he did Graves ; 
 and if Mr. Cilley would do neither, to 
 sliatter his r'ujltt arm. 
 
 They accordingly took measures to 
 ascertain whether Mr. Cilley was at his 
 lodgings, and finding that he was not, they 
 proceeded, well armed, to Bladensburg, 
 where it was said the duel between Mr. 
 Cilley and Mr. Graves was to take place. 
 Before arriving there, it was agreed 
 between Webb, Jackson, and Morell, that 
 Webb should approach Mr. Cilley, claim 
 the quarrel, insist on fighting him, and 
 assure him if he aimed his rifle at Mr. 
 Graves, he (Webb) would shoot him (Mr. 
 Cilley) on the spot. It was supposed by 
 them that Mr. Graves, or Mr. Wise, or 
 some of the party, would raise a weapon 
 at Webb, whereupon it was agreed that 
 Webb should instantly shoot Mr. Cille}^, 
 and that they should then defend them- 
 selves in the best way they could. 
 
 Not finding the Graves and Cilley party 
 at Bladensburg, Webb and his comrades 
 followed in pursuit to the old magazine, 
 and thence to the shore of the Potomac, 
 near the arsenal, at Greenleaf Point, 
 whence, it being after three o'clock in 
 the afternoon, they returned to the city to 
 await the result of the duel. '' It is 
 unnecessary to add," sa^"^ they, in a state- 
 ment drawn up by Webb, signed by Jack- 
 son and Morell, and published in the New 
 York Courier and Enquirer, " what would 
 have been the course of Colonel Webb, if 
 Mr. Graves, instead of Mr. Cilley, had 
 been injured. Suffice it to say, that it 
 was sanctioned by us ; and however much 
 we deplore it, we could not doubt but the 
 extraordinary position in which he would 
 have been placed would have warranted 
 the course determined upon." It is diffi- 
 cult to imagine what is here darkly shad- 
 owed forth, if it be not that, had Mr. 
 Cilley survived the encounter with Mr. 
 
714 
 
 OUR ymST CENTURY.— 177G-187G. 
 
 Graves, and had the latter suffered in it, 
 it would theu have been the fate of Mr. 
 C'dleu to haoe encountered an assassin. 
 
 So atrocious was the course pursued by 
 the powerful combination against Mr. 
 Cilley, th.it the report of the congressional 
 coiuinittee, composed of members of both 
 political parties, pronounced it to be with- 
 OLit any circumstance of extenuation. 
 Reciting the facts involved, the committee 
 state that, on the 12th of Februar}', Mr. 
 Wise, of Virginia, presented to the house 
 a publication in the New York Courier 
 and Enquirer, charging a member of con- 
 gress with corruption on the mere authority 
 of an anonymous writer under the signa- 
 ture of the 'Spy in Washington,' and 
 thereupon moved a resolution for tlie 
 appointment of a select committee, with 
 power to send for persons and papers to 
 inquire into the charge. Mr. Wise said : 
 " The character of the authority upon 
 which the charge is made is vouched for 
 as respectable and authentic by the editor 
 of the Courier and Enquirer, in whose 
 paper it appears, and the house is called 
 upon to defend its honor and dignity 
 against the charge." Mr. Cilley opposed 
 the resolution, and in the course of the 
 debate said : 
 
 *He knew nothing of this editor; but 
 if it was the same editor who once made 
 
 grave charges against an institution of 
 this country, and afterward was said to 
 have received facilities to the amount of 
 $52,000 from tlie same institution, and 
 then gave it his hearty support, he did 
 not think his charges were entitled to 
 much credit in an American congress.' 
 
 These words, spoken by Mr. Cillej' in 
 debate, were strictly in order, were perti- 
 nent to the subject under discussion, and 
 did not exceed the bounds and limits of 
 his place and duty; and though they 
 implicated a doubt inconsistent with un- 
 blemibhed honor and character in the 
 person alluded to, yet Mr. Cilley was 
 justified in the use of them by a report of 
 a committee of the house, appointed 
 March 14, 1832, to inspect the books 
 and examine into the proceedings of the 
 Bank of the United States. In the 
 majority report of this committee, it is 
 stated that, for sixteen months, the New 
 Y^ork Courier and Enquirer was warmly 
 opposed to the Bank of the United States ; 
 that on the 26th of March, 1831, and 
 within less than nine months thereafter, 
 the bank made three loans, amounting to 
 the sum of $52,975, which consisted of 
 notes drawn and indorsed by the editors 
 only ; and that on or about the 8th of April, 
 1831, said paper changed its course in 
 favor of the bank. 
 
LXXXIII. 
 
 JOHN BROWN'S CAPTURE OF HARPER'S FERRY, 
 
 VA.— 1859. 
 
 Seizure and Occupation of tlie United States Armory. — A Bold Scheme to Free the Slaves — Attacked 
 by tlie Militia, he Hetreats to the Engine House and Makes it His Fortress. — The Building is Sur- 
 rounded by Federal Troops and Forced by a Battering Kara — Brown, Refusing to Surrender, is 
 Overpowered and Made Prisoner. — His Genuine Heroism on the Scaffold — A Long Cherished Plan. 
 — Conference Held in Canada — Programme of Operations. — Harper's Ferry the Strategic Point. — 
 First Active Movement at Nigiit. — Only Twenty-two Men in Force — The Town in Brown's Posses- 
 sion — Straufje Scenes at l^aybreak. — Indescribable Consternation — Fighting and Bloodshed. — News 
 of the Attack Sent Off — Military Companies Pour in — Marines Sent from Washington. — No Mercy 
 Shown the Insurgents. — Brown is Terribly Wounded — His Indomitable Fortitude. — Tried for Trea- 
 son and Murder — Conviction: Speech in Court — Admiration of Him by His Foes. — Walks Fearless 
 to the Gallows. — Mounts the Fatal Platform. — " I am Ready at any Time ! " 
 
 " Brown is as brave a man as ever headed an insurrection. Ue is the farthest possible remove from the ordinary ruffian, fanatic, or mad- 
 man."— Govekhok Wise, or Vikgikia. 
 
 :I 
 
 ^ "\ /"EARNING for an opportunity to carry out his long cherished desire to lib- 
 erate the negroes of the south and destroy the system of American slavery, 
 Captain John Brown — or "old Osawatomie Brown," as he was famil- 
 iarly called, on account of his active participation in the hattle fought 
 at Osawatomie, Kansas, — had disclosed his plans to a few confidential 
 sympathizers, durins: a conference held by them in Chatham, Canada, 
 
 ^-^ May 8th, 1858 ; and, selecting 
 Harper's Ferry, Ya., as the most 
 available strategic point, struck 
 the first blow which his scheme 
 contemplated, Sunday evening, 
 October 16th, 1859. Brown, the 
 leader of this movement, was 
 about sixty years of age, born in 
 Connecticut, and certainly one of 
 the most remarkable men of his 
 times. 
 
 By the conference or convention 
 
 held in Canada, a "Provisional 
 
 Constitution and Ordinances for 
 
 the People of the United States" 
 
 CAPTURE OF JOHN BROWN. was formcd, and Brown was chosen 
 
 commander-in-chief. Shortly afterward, Brown, with two of his sons, appeared in the 
 
 vicinity of Harper's Ferry, and under the assumed name of Smith rented a small farm 
 
716 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 in Maryland, a few miles from the Ferry, 
 for the purpose of making the necessary 
 observations and maturing their plans for 
 the final movement. Here were gradually 
 collected a considerable quantity of arms 
 and ammunition, consisting of rifles, pis- 
 tols, pikes, cartridges, and the like ; and a 
 body of twenty-two, of whom seventeen 
 were whites and five colored, joined him 
 from various parts of the country. The 
 resolute, daring, and courageous character 
 of Brown was well calculated to constitute 
 him a leader in such an enterprise, and 
 his fighting qualities had been so success- 
 fully displayed during the long and bloody 
 contest which ended in making Kansas a 
 free state, that his followers looked up to 
 him as a hero, "to high destiny born." 
 
 The time being near at hand when, 
 according to the programme agreed upon, 
 they were to arm themselves and go forth, 
 Brown made an address to them, conclud- 
 ing it by saying : " And now, gentlemen, 
 let me press this one thing on your minds. 
 You all know how dear life is to you, and 
 how dear your lives are to your friends ; 
 and, in remembering that, consider that 
 the lives of others are as dear to them as 
 yours are to you. Do not, therefore, take 
 the life of any one, if j'ou can possibly 
 avoid it ; but, if it is necessary to take 
 life in order to save 3'our own, then make 
 sure work of it." In addition to the small 
 force thus employed in active military 
 duty, there were others, it is said, to 
 whom was assigned the task of cutting the 
 telegraph wires and destroying the railway 
 track, at the proper time, and who subse- 
 quently made their escape. 
 
 It was now about ten o'clock in the 
 evening, and the first act of the invasion 
 was to be performed. William William- 
 son, the watchman on the Potomac bridge, 
 while walking across the ^Maryland side, 
 was seized and made prisoner. Almost 
 simultaneously with this, the government 
 armory buildings, or arsenal, containing 
 an immense quantity of arms, were quietly 
 taken possession of. Williamson, on being 
 arrested, recognized Brown and Cook, and 
 knowing them, treated the matter as a 
 
 joke, but was not long in learning his 
 mistake. The watchman who was to re- 
 lieve Williamson at midnight found the 
 bridge lights all out, and Avas at once 
 seized. Supposing it an attempt at rob- 
 bery, he broke away, and managed to 
 escape. 
 
 Shortly after midnight, a small party of 
 the invaders, headed by Stevens, proceeded 
 to the house of Col. Lewis Washington, a 
 large farmer and slave owner, roused him 
 from his bed, and told him he was their 
 l^risoner ; they also took his arms, car- 
 riage, etc., and proclaimed liberty to his 
 slaves. A similar visit was then made to 
 the house of Mr. Alstadtt, who, with his 
 son, was captured, and freedom given to 
 his slaves. On entering the armory. 
 Colonel Washington states that he found 
 some eight or ten persons, who recognized 
 him. They all sat together, and were 
 conversing, when Brown, after asking 
 their names, said, " It is now too dark to 
 write, but when it is sufficiently light, if 
 you have not paper and pens, I will fur- 
 nish 3"0U, and I require that you shall 
 each write to your friends to send a negro 
 man apiece, as a ransom." To all of the 
 prisoners who inquired as to the object of 
 the proceedings, the answer was. To free 
 tlie slaves ; and to the question by what 
 authority it was done, reply was made, Bij 
 the authority of God ALiniylitij. These 
 replies fitly represented the sentiment 
 which, from first to last, seemed to possess 
 Brown's mind. 
 
 At the upper end of the town, the mail 
 train arrived at the usual hour, but was 
 warned not to proceed over the bridge. 
 After some hours' detention, the train was 
 allowed to go on, but not until great alarm 
 and some bloodshed had ensued. A col- 
 ored man, a porter employed by the rail- 
 road company, refusing to surrender, re- 
 ceived a mortal wound. Two others, 
 named Turner and Boerly, who undertook 
 a forcible interference with the invaders, 
 were also fatally shot, liut, so quietly had 
 matters, for the most part, been managed 
 by the insurgents, that it was not until 
 daybreak, that the town, now thoroughly 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 717 
 
 waked up, found, to their utter astonish- 
 ment, that all the ai-mory buildings and 
 premises were in the invaders' hands, that 
 the bridge and avenues were guarded by 
 armed sentinels, and that the condition of 
 the inhabitants was that of prisoners. A 
 panic, of course, immediately ensued. In 
 the meantime, a number of workmen, not 
 knowing the actual state of affairs, ap- 
 proached the armory and were successively 
 taken prisoners, until at one time the 
 number thus confined was not less than 
 sixt}'. But efforts were made by some of 
 the populace to shoot the insurgents, and, 
 in this attack, Brown's son Watson re- 
 ceived a mortal wound. A number of cit- 
 izens were imprisoned in the engine-house, 
 which Brown afterward made his chief 
 fortress; the workmen were imprisoned in 
 a large building further down the yard. 
 
 So sudden and unaccountable were these 
 proceedings, to the people of the town, 
 that, wonder-struck, they seized such arms 
 as they could find, and, gathering them- 
 selves in small bodies on the outskirts of 
 the town, and at points remote from the 
 works, assumed the best attitude of de- 
 fense possible. But all was confusion and 
 mystery. Even the sight of several armed 
 negroes among the strangers did not at 
 first excite suspicion that it was an anti- 
 slavery movement, and the report of one of 
 the captured slaves, confirmatory of that 
 fact, was received with incredulitj\ Some 
 supposed that it was a strike among the 
 discontented armorers or the government 
 
 laborers ; others argued that it was a band 
 of robbers, organize<l in some of the cities, 
 })lundering the government funds. 
 
 Intelligence of the affair was speedily 
 communicated, by railroad and messenger, 
 to all the neighboring towns, and military 
 companies soon began to make their ap- 
 pearance. At about noon, some Charles- 
 town troops, commanded by Colonel Bay- 
 lor, crossed the Susquehanna some distance 
 up, and marched down the Mar3land side 
 to the mouth of the bridge. Firing a 
 voile}', they made a rapid dash across the 
 bridge, clearing it of the invaders, who 
 retreated down toward the armory. In 
 this movement, one of the insurgents was 
 killed, and another, named Thompson, was 
 made prisoner. During the rest of the 
 day, considerable firing took place, result- 
 ing in the killing and wounding of sev- 
 eral, including Brown's son Oliver, Kagi, 
 Brown's secretary of war, and Leeman, 
 one of Brown's captains. A stray shot 
 also killed Mr. Beckham, the mayor of the 
 town, who incautiously exposed himself to 
 the running fire between the parties. The 
 death of Mr. Beckham so exasperated the 
 populace, that they immediately raised a 
 cry to bring out the prisoner, Thompson, 
 for retaliation. He was brought out on 
 the bridge, and there shot down. He fell 
 into the water, and some appearance of 
 life still remaining, he was riddled witli 
 balls. 
 
 From Martinsburg, a considerable force 
 arrived at the upper end of the tov>n, and, 
 entering the armory grounds by the rear, 
 made an attack from that side. Dashing 
 on, firing, and cheering, they carried the 
 building in which the armory men were 
 imprisoned, and released the whole of 
 them. They were, however, but poorly 
 armed, and when they came within range 
 of the engine-house, where Brown and his 
 particular associates, with some of their 
 prisoners, had gathered, they were forced 
 to fall back, suffering somewhat severely-. 
 
 At Washington, Baltimore, and Rich- 
 mond, the news of the insurrection pro- 
 duced the wildest excitement, and a move- 
 ment of the troops instantly ordered. 
 
718 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Col. Robert E. Lee, with about a hundred 
 United States marines, and two field- 
 pieces, was sent from Washington to the 
 scene of action, and was soon in possession 
 of the armory grounds, in close proximity 
 to the engine-house. Early the next 
 morning, Lieut. J. E. B. Stuart, aid to 
 Colonel Lee, advanced to parley with the 
 besieged, and, on being received at the 
 door, demanded an unconditional surren- 
 der, only promising them protection from 
 immediate violence and a trial by law. 
 Captain Brown refused all terms other 
 than these — that they should be permitted 
 to march out with their men and arms, 
 taking their prisoners with them ; that 
 they should proceed un pursued to the toll- 
 gate, when they would free their prison- 
 ers ; the soldiers would then be permitted 
 to pursue them, and they would fight if 
 they could not escape. This was refused, 
 and Lieutenant Stuart pressed upon Brown 
 his desperate position, and urged a sur- 
 render. The expostulation was very earn- 
 est, and the interest of the scene became 
 most intense. The volunteers were ar- 
 ranged all around the building, cutting off 
 an escape in every direction. The ma- 
 rines, divided in two squads, were ready 
 for a dash at the door. 
 
 Finally, having exhausted all argument 
 with the determined Captain Brown, 
 Stuart walked slowly from the door. 
 
 Immediately, the signal for attack was 
 given, and the marines, headed by Colonel 
 Harris and Lieutenant Green, advanced in 
 two lines on each side o£ the door. Two 
 powerful fellows sprang between the lines, 
 and with heavy sledge hammers attempted 
 to batter down the door. The door swung 
 and swayed, but appeared to be secured 
 with a rope, the spring of which deadened 
 the effect of the blows. Failing thus, they 
 took hold of a ladder, some forty feet long, 
 and, advancing at a run, brought it with 
 tremendous effect against the door. At 
 the second blow it gave way, one leaf fall- 
 ing inward in a slanting position. The 
 marines immediately advanced to the 
 breach. Major Russell and Lieutenant 
 Green leading. A marine fell in front. 
 
 The firing from the interior was rapid and 
 sharp. They fired with deliberate aim, 
 and for a moment the resistance was seri- 
 ous, and desperate enough to excite the 
 spectators to something like a pitch of 
 frenzy. The next moment, the marines 
 poured in, the firing ceased, and the work 
 was done, while cheers rang from every 
 side. One of the marines and one of 
 Brown's men fell in the affray. 
 
 One of the government officers, as soon 
 as he saw Brown, although the latter was 
 unarmed, struck him in the face with his 
 saber, which instantly knocked him down. 
 The blow was repeated several times, and 
 then another soldier ran a bayonet twice 
 into the prostrate body of the old man. 
 
 When the insurgents were brought out, 
 they were greeted with execrations, and 
 only the precautions that had been taken 
 preserved them from immediate execution. 
 The crowd, nearly every man of which car- 
 ried a gun, swayed with tumultuous ex- 
 citement, and cries of "Shoot tliem! Shoot 
 them ! " filled the air. The appearance, 
 however, of the liberated prisoners, all of 
 whom had escaped injur}^, changed the 
 current of feeling, and prolonged huzzas 
 took the place of howls and threats. The 
 lawn in front of the engine-house, after 
 the assault, presented a dreadful sight. 
 Lying on it were the bodies of the two 
 men killed on the previous day, and found 
 inside the house; three wounded men, one 
 of them just at the last gasp of life, and 
 two others groaning in pain. One of 
 the dead was Brown's son Oliver. The 
 wounded father and his son Watson were 
 lying on the grass, the old man presenting 
 a gory spectacle. He had a severe bayonet 
 wound in his side, and his face and hair 
 were clotted with blood. 
 
 A short time after Captain Brown was 
 brought out, he revived, and talked earn- 
 estly to those about him, defending his 
 course, and avowing that he had done onl}- 
 what was right. He replied to questions 
 substantially as follows: 
 
 "Are you Captain Brown, of Kansas?" 
 
 " I am sometimes called so." 
 
 *' Are you Osawatomie Brown ? " 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 719 
 
 "I tried to do my duty there." 
 ""What was your i)resent object?" 
 " To free the slaves from bondage J^ 
 '' Were any other persons, but those 
 with you now, connected with the move- 
 ment ? " 
 '•No." 
 
 " Did you expect aid from the north ? " 
 "No; tliere was no one connected with 
 the movement hut those who came with 
 me. 
 
 '* Did you expect to kill people in order 
 to carry 3'our point ? " 
 
 " I did not wish to do so, but you force 
 us to it." 
 
 Virginia, sufficient to take possession of 
 both states, with all of the negroes they 
 could capture, lie had only a general 
 idea as to his course; it was to be gener- 
 ally south-west, through Virginia, varying 
 as circumstances dictated or required. 
 
 Of Brown's whole band of twenty-two 
 men, ten whites and three negroes were 
 killed ; three whites, two of them severely 
 wounded, and two negroes, were taken 
 prisoners ; and four escaped, two of whom, 
 Cook and Hazlitt, were subsequently cap- 
 tured. 
 
 An indictment for treason and murder 
 was immediately found against Brown, by 
 
 harper's ferry and the 
 
 Brown declared that he had the town at 
 his mercy ; that he could have burned it, 
 and murdered the inhabitants, but did not ; 
 he had treated the prisoners with courtesy, 
 but complained that he himself was hunted 
 down like a beast. He expressed a desire 
 to live, and to be tried by his countr3\ In 
 his pockets nearly three hundred dollars 
 were found in gold. He said it was no 
 part of his purpose to seize the public arms 
 — he had army and ammunition enough 
 re-shipped from Kansas ; he only intended 
 to make the first demonstration at this 
 point, when he expected to receive a rapid 
 increase of the allies from abolitionists 
 settled everywhere through Maryland and 
 
 arsenal taken by brown. 
 
 the Virginia authorities, and, until the 
 time of his trial, was rigorously impris- 
 oned and guarded. In his personal ap- 
 pearance. Brown was a stuall man, with 
 white head and beard, and cold-looking 
 gray eyes. When not speaking, his lips 
 were compressed in such a manner as 
 showed him to be a man of great deter- 
 mination. Of his bravery, no testimony 
 could be more emphatic than that of his 
 opponents. "They are mistaken" — said 
 ]\Ir. Wise, at that time governor of Vir- 
 ginia, "who take him to be a madman. 
 He is a bundle of the best nerves I ever 
 saw, cut and thrust, and bleeding and in 
 bonds. He is a man of clear head, of 
 
720 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 courage and fortitufle, and simple ingenu- 
 ousness. He id cool, collected, and indom- 
 itable; and inspired me ^Yith great trust 
 in his integrity as a man of trutli. He is 
 as brave and resolute a man as ever headed 
 an insurrection. He has coolness, daring, 
 persistency, stoic faith and patience, and a 
 firmness of will and purpose unconquera- 
 ble. He is the farthest possible remove 
 from the ordinary ruffian, fanatic, or mad- 
 man." Colonel Washington, also, said 
 that Brown was the coolest man he ever 
 saw in defying death and danger. With 
 one son dead by his side, and another shot 
 through, he felt the pulse of his dying son 
 with one hand, held his rifle with the 
 other, and commanded his men with the 
 utmost composure, encouraging them to be 
 firm, and to sell their lives as dearly as 
 pf»ssible. 
 
 As the prisoners demanded to be tried 
 separately, the authorities elected to try 
 Brown first. He asked for a delay, on 
 account of his severe wounds ; but this 
 was refused, and the case commenced on 
 the 2Gth of October, in Charlestown, Va. 
 Brown was unable to sit, and lay upon a 
 mattress. The trial lasted three days, and 
 Brown was found guilty upon all the 
 charges, and sentenced to be executed on 
 the 2d of December. As the jury camo 
 in, with their verdict, the dense crowd of 
 human faces was moved and agitated with 
 intense expectancy, every head and neck 
 being stretched to witness the closing scene. 
 The only calm and unruffled countenance 
 there, was that of the doomed one, above 
 whose head hung the sword of fate. It 
 was late, and the gas-lights gave an almost 
 deathly pallor to his face. He seated him- 
 self near his counsel, and, after once rest- 
 ing his head upon his right hand, remained 
 entirely motionless. On being asked why 
 sentence should not be passed upon him, 
 he rose and leaned slightly forward, his 
 hands resting on the table, and, in a voice 
 singularly mild and gentle, said, among 
 other things : 
 
 "In the first place, I deny everything 
 but what I have all along admitted — the 
 desi(/?i on my j^art to free the slaves. I 
 
 intended certainly to have made a clean 
 thing of that matter, as I did last winter, 
 when I went into Missouri, and there took 
 slaves without the snapping of a gun on 
 either side, moved them through the coun- 
 try, and finally left them in Canada. I 
 designed to have done the same thing 
 again, on a larger scale. That was all I 
 intended. I never did intend murder, or 
 treason, or the destruction of property, or 
 to excite or incite slaves to rebellion, or to 
 make insurrection. 
 
 I have another objection ; and that is, it 
 is unjust that I should suffer such a pen- 
 alty. Had I interfered in the manner 
 which I admit, and which I admit has 
 been fairly proved (for I admire the truth- 
 fulness and candor of the greater portion 
 of the witnesses who have testified in this 
 case) — had I so interfered in behalf of 
 the rich, the powerful, the intelligent, the 
 so-called great, or in behalf of any of their 
 friends, either father, mother, brother, 
 sister, wife, or children, or any of that 
 class, and suffered and sacrificed what I 
 have in this interference, it would have 
 been all right, and every man in this 
 court would have deemed it an act worthy 
 of reward rather than punishment. 
 
 This court acknowledges, as I suppose, 
 the validity of the Law of God. I see a 
 book kissed here which I suppose to be 
 the Bible, or, at least, the New Testa- 
 ment. That teaches me that 'all things 
 whatsoever I would that men should do 
 unto me, I should do even so to them.' It 
 teaches me further, to 'remember them 
 that are in bonds as bound with them.' 
 I endeavored to act up to that instruction. 
 I am yet too young to understand that God 
 is any respecter of persons. I believe that 
 to have interfered as I have done, as I 
 have always freely admitted I have done, 
 was not wrong, but right. Now, if it is 
 deemed necessary that I should forfeit my 
 life for the furtherance of the ends of jus- 
 tice, and mingle my blood further with the 
 blood of my children, and with the blood of 
 millions in this slave country whose rights 
 are disregarded by wicked, cruel, and unjust 
 enactments — I submit : so let it be done." 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 721 
 
 During the period of Brown's imprison- 
 ment, from the time of his sentence to the 
 day of his execution, he was occupied in 
 receiving visitors and in writing to his 
 family and friends. Letters of sympatliy 
 poured in upon liim ; and visitors were in 
 constant attendance, including editors, 
 politicians, and other persons of eminence. 
 Clergymen were there too, some of whom 
 offered to him the consolations of religion. 
 But, though Brown was a memher of the 
 Congregational or Presbyterian church, 
 and a rigidly religious man, he strictly and 
 sternly refused to be aided in his prayers 
 by the pro-slavery preachers of the south, 
 telling them to go home and read their 
 Bibles. One of these gentlemen having 
 called to pray with Brown, was asked by 
 the latter if he was ready to fight, if neces- 
 sity required it, for the freedom of the 
 slave. On his answering in the negative, 
 Brown said that he would thank him to 
 retire from his cell, — that his prayers 
 would be an abomination to God. To 
 another clergyman, he said that he would 
 not insult his God by bowing down with 
 any one who had the blood of the slave 
 upon his skirts. One of these clerical 
 callers having advanced an argument in 
 favor of slavery as it existed in America, 
 Brown replied in such a manner that the 
 reverend gentleman though it best to draw 
 the discussion to a close, and therefore 
 withdrew. The old man said to him — 
 
 " My dear sir, you know nothing about 
 Christianity; you will have to learn the 
 A B C's in the lesson of Christianity, as I 
 find you entirely ignorant of the meaning 
 of the word. I, of course, respect you as a 
 gentleman, but it is as a heathen gentle- 
 man." 
 
 The day appointed for the execution 
 
 having arrived, he walked out of the jail 
 
 with a radiant countenance and the step of 
 
 a conqueror. Firmly, with elastic limb, 
 
 he moved forward, without flinching. As 
 
 he stepped out of the door, a black woman, 
 
 with a little child in her arms, stood near 
 
 by. He paused a moment, and, stooping, 
 
 kissed the child with great tenderness. 
 
 Another black woman, Avith a child, ex- 
 46 
 
 claimed, as he passed along, " God bless 
 you, old man ! I wish I could help you ; 
 but I can't." As he looked at her, he 
 shed a tear of tender emotion. 
 
 With an unfaltering step, he mounted 
 the wagon which was to convey him to the 
 scaffold, seating himself beside Captain 
 Avis, the jailor, and Mr. Saddler, the un- 
 dertaker, both of whom expressed their 
 admii'ation of the old man's character. 
 Accompanying the wagon were several 
 military companies, mostly cavalry. Be- 
 ing asked, on the way, if he felt any fear, 
 he said, "I can endure almost anything 
 but parting from friends ; that is very 
 hard." When nearing the fatal spot, and 
 being inquired of as to how he would be 
 able to meet such a fate, he replied, " It 
 has been a characteristic of me, from in- 
 fancy, not to suffer from physical fear. I 
 have suffered a thousand times more from 
 bashfulness than from fear." Those who 
 were near the old man, and scrutinized him 
 closely, state that he seemed to take in the 
 whole scene at a glance, straightening 
 himself xip proudly, as if to set to the sol- 
 diers an example of a soldier's courage. 
 The only motion he made, bej^ond a sway- 
 ing to and fro of his body, was a patting 
 of his knees with his hands, the same as 
 was noticed throughout his trial and while 
 he was in jail. As he came upon an emi- 
 nence near the gallows, he cast his eye 
 over the beautiful landscape, and followed 
 the windings of the Blue Ridge mountains 
 in the distance. He looked up earnestly 
 at the sun, and sky, and all about, and 
 then remarked — 
 
 " This is a beautiful country. I have 
 not cast my eyes over it before — that is, 
 while passing through the field." 
 
 " Yes," was the sad response of his 
 friend and custodian. Captain Avis. 
 
 " You are a game man. Captain Brown," 
 said Mr. Saddler. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "I was so trained up; 
 it was one of the lessons of my mother ; 
 but it is hard to part from friends, though 
 newly made." 
 
 " You are more cheerful than I am. 
 Captain Brown," remarked Mr. Saddler. 
 
722 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 '•' Yes, I ought to he ! " was the heroic 
 reply. 
 
 Arrived at the field of death, he looked 
 at the assembled concourse, and said — 
 
 "I see no citizens here — where are 
 they ? " 
 
 " None but the troops are allowed to be 
 present," was the answer. 
 
 "That ought not to be," said he; "citi- 
 zens should be allowed to be j)resent as 
 well as others." 
 
 Descending from the wagon, he said, 
 " Gentlemen, good-bye ; " and then, walk- 
 ing firm and erect, passing through the 
 line of military, and close to jailors, sher- 
 iff, and other officers, he mounted the 
 scaffold steps — the first man that stood on 
 it. Calmly and manfully he surveyed the 
 scene, amid the almost breathless mass of 
 armed soldiery that surrounded him. With 
 a graceful motion of his pinioned right arm, 
 he took the slouched hat from his head, and 
 carelessly cast it upon the platform by his 
 side. Every one within view was greatly 
 impressed with the dignity of his bearing ; 
 and men of the south were heard to say that 
 his courageous fortitude and insensibility 
 to fear filled them with amazement. 
 
 The hour having come, he said to Cap- 
 tain Avis, " I have no words to thank you 
 for all your kindness to me." 
 
 His elbows and ankles were now pin- 
 ioned, a white cap was drawn over his 
 eyes, and the fatal noose was adjusted 
 around his bared neck. 
 
 " Captain Brown," said the sheriff, "you 
 are not standing on the drop. Will you 
 come forward ? " 
 
 "I can't see — you must lead me," was 
 his firm answer. 
 
 The sheriff led him forward to the cen- 
 ter of the drop. 
 
 "Shall I give you a handkerchief," 
 asked the sheriff, " and let you drop it a? 
 a signal ? " 
 
 " No ; / am ready at any time ! But 
 do not keep me needlessly waiting." 
 
 At last, the order was given, the rope 
 was cut with a hatchet, and the trap fell. 
 There was but one spasmodic effort of the 
 hands to clutch at the neck, but for nearly 
 five minutes the limbs jerked and quiv- 
 ered. He seemed to retain an extraordi- 
 nary hold on life. After the body had 
 dangled in the air for twenty minutes, it 
 was examined by the surgeons for signs of 
 life. They lifted up the once strong but 
 now powerless arms, and placed their ears 
 to the breast of the corpse, holding it steady 
 by passing an arm around it. And so the 
 body dangled and swung by its neck, turn- 
 ing to this side and that, for thirty-eight 
 minutes, when it was cut down, and put 
 into a black walnut coffin. In due time, 
 the body was conveyed to his home among 
 the mountains, in North Elba, N. Y., an 
 eloquent eulogy being pronounced by 
 Wendell Phillips, at the place of burial. 
 
 Cook, Coppoc, Copeland, and Green, 
 Brown's companions, shared his fate De- 
 cember 16th ; and Stevens and Hazlitt, 
 March 16th. The other survivors had 
 managed to escape. 
 
 And thus, with these sanguinary scenes 
 xx\)0\\ the scaffold, the curtain dropped 
 upon a tragedy which, on its announce- 
 ment, carried terror and exasperation to 
 the south, and, for months, filled the whole 
 country with a blaze of excitement, — a 
 theme of wonder in every mouth, and of 
 heated partisan discussion, pro and con, in 
 legislative halls, in the pulpit, on the 
 political platform, and in the columns of 
 the universal public press. 
 
LXXXIY. 
 
 FALL OF THE GREAT PEMBEETON MILLS IN LAW- 
 
 KENCE, MASS.— 1860. 
 
 Nearly One Thousand Persons Buried in the Ruins— Multitudes, Male and Female, in Youth and 
 Beauty, Brouglit in a Moment to Agony and Death — Bursting Forth of a Sweeping Conflagration. — 
 Commingling of Horrible Sights and Sounds — Hair-breadtii Escapes. — Three Fair and Beautiful 
 Corpses Tiglit Together. — The Calamity Instantaneous. — Sensations of the Occupants — Two Acres 
 of Ruins.— Flames Suddenly Belch Forth. — Tiirilling Cries, Woeful Scenes. — Efforts to Rescue the 
 Wounded.— Many Left to Their Fate.— Thousands of Excited Visitors.— Sympathy and Relief.— A 
 Room Stored with the Dead. — Wonderful Escape of a Young Woman. — Astonishing Presence of 
 Mind. — Female Heroism and Devotion.— Tender Girls Struggling in the Ruins — Despair and Sui- 
 cide. — Ladies Work the Fire Engines. — Harrowing and Piteous Appeals. — Cool Pluck of an Lish- 
 man — Reading the List of Victims — Touching Request of a Dying Girl. — Endurance and Resigna- 
 tion — Account of the Avondale Colliery Disaster. 
 
 "A roar— a cra-ih. and a sudden heave 
 
 Of every storv from base to eave ! 
 
 Tlie pla»ter sliiver'g in mastive flakes. 
 
 Each Cflpenient, lintel and door-post quakes; 
 
 Then down— down— down -down— 
 
 With tluinder that echoes ihrough all the town. 
 
 Come floor, and ceiling, and murderous wall, 
 
 In one vast uvalunche, burying alll " 
 
 THE RESCUE. 
 
 NPARALLELED in the history of catastrophes of its kind, 
 was the destruction of the great Pemberton Mills, in the 
 city of Lawrence, Mass., on the tenth of Januar}^, 1860. 
 On the afternoon of that day, at about ten minutes before 
 five o'clock, the vast and towering structure, with its looms 
 under full headway, and a comi^any of nearly one thousand 
 operatives, suddenly fell in ruins to the ground, producing 
 a scene of human woe beyond the power of pen to portray, 
 and casting a deep gloom over the whole country. 
 
 The principal building was two hundred and eighty feet 
 long, eighty-four feet wide, and five stories high, with an 
 ell six stories high, eighty-four feet long, and thirty-seven 
 feet wide. The first story of the main building was used 
 for weaving, and contained four hundred looms. The second 
 story was used for carding, and the following machinery was in 
 operation, viz. : one hundred and seventy-six cards, twenty-eight 
 reeling heads, sixteen drawing frames, eight sh;bbers, fourteen 
 fly-frames, and four card grinders. In the third story were the 
 twisting and spinning machines, viz. : seventy-nine spinning 
 frames, with one hundred and sixty spindles each, and two of 
 Mason's mules of six hundred and eight spindles each. The 
 
724 
 
 OUK FiltST CENT UEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 fourth story was used as a carding and 
 spinning room, and had in it forty cards, 
 three reeling heads, four drawing frames, 
 two shibbers, nine fly frames, fourteen 
 Sharp and Eoberts's mules, with six hun- 
 dred and seventy-two spindles each, and 
 twenty drawing frames. The fifth story 
 was used for dressing, warping, spooling, 
 winding, grinding and reeling, with the 
 following number of machines, viz : twenty 
 dressers, twenty -four wai'pers, nineteen 
 winders, eight spoolers, two grinders, and 
 twenty-two reels. The different stories of 
 the ell were used for packing, finishing, 
 reeling, etc. 
 
 The whole number of looms in the mills 
 was six hundred and fifty, and twenty- 
 nine thousand spindles were in use. When 
 the mill was in full oj)eration, the amount 
 of cotton warped into cloth was sixty thou- 
 sand pounds per week, producing one hun- 
 dred and fifty thousand yards. The driv- 
 ing machinery consisted of three turbine 
 wheels, of two hundred horse-power each. 
 The building was heated by steam, and 
 the boiler used for generating it occupied 
 a small building by itself. Against fire 
 the structure was well protected, there 
 being force pumps in the picker house, 
 which was located in the rear of the main 
 building, and a line of hose running from 
 the pumps to every room in the mill. 
 
 While the men, women, and children, in 
 numbers sufficient to constitute a large 
 village, were at their usual work in the 
 large mill where the manufacturing opera- 
 tions were chiefly carried on, — with no 
 previous warning — almost in an instant — 
 certainly in a space of time not exceeding 
 one minute, — the floors of this husie five- 
 storied pile with one startling crack gave 
 way, the walls were overthrown, and stone, 
 bricks, timber, machinery, and this great 
 crowd of human beings, lay in one con- 
 fused mass of ruins. A few hours later, 
 a fire broke out and raged fiercely over the 
 shapeless heap, and then indeed a thrill of 
 horror ran through the stoutest hearts, as 
 the thousands, working with almost super- 
 human effort for the rescue of the unfortu- 
 nate victims, were successively driven off 
 
 by the flames, and forced to abandon 
 friends, relatives, and neighbors, to their 
 awful fate. It was naturally supposed, at 
 first, that nothing could add to the sights 
 and sounds of horror produced by the orig- 
 inal calamity; but when, as the night 
 advanced, the terrible cry of 'Fire! fire!' 
 was sounded throughout the agonizing 
 community, the effect was appalling. On 
 the first alarm being given, that the mill 
 had fallen, the announcement seemed for 
 a moment to j^aralyze every one. But 
 active sympathy was soon developed, and 
 thousands of earnest, energetic men 
 thronged to the spot, and began the dan- 
 gerous work of attempting to extricate the 
 buried operatives from the mass of ruins, 
 which were spread over two acres of 
 ground. It being dark, huge bonfires 
 were kindled all around the ill-fated local- 
 ity, to give light to the laborers in their 
 work. A scene of more thrilling, fearful 
 interest, can hardly be imagined, and 
 utterly fails of description ; for the shrieks 
 of the suffocating and mangled creatures, 
 so harrowing and heart-rending, were re- 
 echoed by the bystanders who stood 
 around in thousands, and most of whom 
 had dear relatives or friends, helpless and 
 perhaps dying, within hearing, but almost 
 be3'ond hope of succor. 
 
 Every engine from the city and neigh- 
 borhood was on the spot, and streams of 
 water at once flowed copioush-- and contin- 
 uously, so that for a time the fire seemed 
 to make no headway, and there was a rea- 
 sonable hope that it would be immediately 
 subdued; but soon, in spite of every effort, 
 the flames began to spread with steady and 
 irresistible force, until the whole accumu- 
 lation Avas one sea of blaze, which charred 
 to ashes the crushed fragments of the 
 building, and the mangled, screaming suf- 
 ferers buried beneath. From nearlj' every 
 hole and crevice in the vast pile, — from 
 the top, from the sides, and in fact from 
 every fissure from whence a voice in the 
 inside could make its way, — came shrieks 
 for help, groans of anguish, prayers and 
 moanings, and in many, very many cases, 
 the poor sufferers could be distinctly seen, 
 
GREAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 
 
 725 
 
 talked to, and even reached by the hand 
 from the outside. Many thus imprisoned 
 were encouraged and sustained by assur- 
 ances of safety, and in many cases cups of 
 coffee couhl be, and were, passed down to 
 those below, who, alas ! after all this near 
 approach to safety, saw hour after hour 
 pass away, until, at last, the frightful cry 
 of fire, and the greedy progress of the 
 flames, as, crackling and hissing, they 
 enveloped with fearful rapidity the sur- 
 rounding remains, told them too plainly 
 that all hope of life was gone. This was 
 strikingl}'' manifested in the following case, 
 and which is but one among many of a 
 similar character: A citizen, who risked 
 his own life in attempts to save the opera- 
 tives from the burning pile, worked his 
 way into an inner apartment, and, looking 
 through a hole in the wall, saw two men 
 and a woman walking to and fro, to ap- 
 pearance entirely unharmed. He reached 
 through, and took them by the hand, and 
 proceeded with vigorous blows to malce an 
 opening in the partition. A moment too 
 soon the flames darted up where he stood. 
 A flood of water poured in upon it totally 
 blinded him, and he rushed from the 
 place, warned by the engineer, and nar- 
 rowly escaping with his life. Many had 
 thus to be left to their sad and inevitable 
 fate. 
 
 As to the phenomenon of the catastro- 
 phe, at the actual moment when the mill 
 fell, one of the male operatives, whose life 
 was miraculously saA'^ed, states that he was 
 in the carding-room in the second stov}', 
 lighting up, it being then five or ten min- 
 utes before five o'clock ; he had got but a 
 few burners lighted, Avhen, suddenly, a 
 noise was heard, which sounded like a loud 
 thundering crash overhead, and, instantly 
 looking up, the shafting was seen coming 
 down upon the whole room. Bewildered 
 and terrified at such an unaccountable 
 spectacle, he stood nailed to the spot, and 
 did not seem to have power to move, 
 although conscious that the building was 
 coming down. Then he heard the over- 
 seer shout, and tried to jump out of the 
 rubbish, but something struck him, pro- 
 
 KUINS OF PEMBERTON MILLS. 
 
726 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ducing insensibility; he did not remain so 
 long, but, on coming to, found himself 
 buried in the rubbish, and did not expect 
 vto get out of its depths alive. All covered 
 over with blood from wounds in the face, 
 he finally crawled up and got to the top, 
 where a lot of ruins, hanging in a critical 
 position, threatened instant death to any 
 one who should disturb them ; he however 
 succeeded in working his way through, 
 passing by a dead girl and two other man- 
 gled bodies, before getting out. 
 
 One young woman, twenty years of age, 
 who was at work in the second story, 
 heard the crash of a portion of the build- 
 ing, and saw portions of it tumbling down. 
 She immediately started in an opposite 
 direction, but before she reached this point 
 the walls were crumbling, and death 
 seemed inevitable the next moment. Pan- 
 ic-stricken, she rushed to a side door, and 
 was just emerging to the entry, when, 
 suddenly, it was crushed in. She recol- 
 lected nothing more than getting through 
 a window and leaping to the ground, 
 wounded and unconscious. Another young 
 woman described her sensations and expe- 
 rience in a similar manner. Unapprised 
 of the fall of the building until the terri- 
 ble reality came directly upon her, she 
 was at her usual work in the third story. 
 She only knew that the whole flooring 
 above her was precipitated upon that on 
 which she stood, accompanied by a terrific 
 noise. She was crushed beneath some 
 machinery near which she was at work, 
 her head being pressed against a beam, 
 seeming, as she described it, as if her head 
 would •' split in two at every moment." 
 Her lower limbs were forced in one direc- 
 tion, her arms in another. But one arm 
 could bo used at all. Every second the 
 heavy weight appeared to be settling closer 
 and closer upon her. She saw nothing 
 but death in prospect; and with feelings 
 of the most agonizing nature, she prayed 
 Ood that she might be delivered from the 
 impending doom. Hardly had she ceased 
 Tittering this prayer, than the falling of a 
 wall in a distant portion of tl;e mill re- 
 leased her from the imminent and deadly 
 
 peril. With a j^resence of mind that 
 exhibited genuine heroism, she struggled 
 against danger and death, and in time 
 reached a point of safety. This was after 
 being in the ruins for upward of an hour. 
 Her condition, on escaping, was most piti- 
 able, being hardly able to turn her body 
 upon her bed. 
 
 By one o'clock, there was nothing to be 
 seen but a broad area of black smoking 
 ruins. The water-works connected with 
 the mill were rendered useless by the 
 destruction of the building, still there was 
 a large amount of water poured upon the 
 fire from various sources. But though the 
 ruins were thus deluged with water, the 
 presence of cotton waste saturated with 
 oil, the floors rendered combustible by the 
 dripping oil from the machinery, and, 
 above all, the depth at which the fire 
 originated and burned, rendered it difficult 
 to extinguish, and so, until morning 
 dawned, the smoke and half-smothered 
 fire still rose from the funeral pile. 
 
 Scarcely had it become known that the 
 appalling accident had happened, and that 
 the material comforts of life were needed 
 by the victims, than evidences were given 
 of the wide-spread s^'mi^athy which the 
 calamity had awakened throughout the 
 country. Three thousand persons were 
 dependent on nine hundred for their sup- 
 port, who were out of employment ; chil- 
 dren had lost their j^arents, brothers and 
 sisters who had been dependent upon each 
 other had become separated, and aged and 
 infirm parents, who depended upon their 
 children, were rendered childless. All 
 this demanded speedy relief, and an ajipeal 
 being made by the mayor to those who 
 possessed the means to give, tens of thou- 
 sands of dollars flowed in from the pockets 
 of the benevolent for the relief of the 
 needy. But the great subject of excite- 
 ment and effort centered in the blackened 
 heap of ruins and the rescue and care of 
 the victims buried beneath. The city hall 
 having been converted into a temporary'' 
 hospital, mattresses, blankets and sheets, 
 bandages, cordials and medicines, were 
 sent in from every direction. The ladies 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 727 
 
 of the vicinity promptly contributed beds 
 and blankets, and the druggists supplied 
 profusely from the contents of their stores. 
 The settees were cleared from the floor, 
 and in their place were arranged rows of 
 mattresses, in close proximity on thi-ee 
 sides of the hall. The platform at the 
 head of the hall was used as a dispensary. 
 At half an hour past midnight, scarcely a 
 mattress was untenanted, and the groans 
 of the wounded — many of them being 
 youthful women of fairest form and beauty, 
 — mingled with the heart-rending cries of 
 relatives and friends. A large number of 
 physicians were in attendance on the suf- 
 fering and dying, while others, exhausted 
 with continual watching, working and 
 waiting, over broken limbs and bruised 
 bodies, lay down in some vacant spot for a 
 brief rest, and then to resume their hu- 
 mane labors. 
 
 In one corner of the hall, was a large 
 room which had been set apart for the 
 reception of the unrecognized dead. This 
 room was literally covered with mangled 
 corpses, — bodies of men, women, youth, 
 and children, hideously mutilated, — in just 
 the condition they exhibited when taken 
 from the ruins, being mostly naked, and 
 covered with blood or begrimmed with 
 smoke and dirt. It was, however, scarcely 
 possible not to envy the lot of these, thus 
 reposing in the calmness of death, com- 
 pared with those near by, shattered, bleed- 
 ing, hopeless. Some of the latter were 
 groaning in agony, some were wild with 
 pain to their last moment ; others quietly 
 breathed their last, or bore their sufferings 
 in silence. Everywhere were blood, bruises, 
 and broken limbs. To one unacquainted 
 with the scenes of the dead-house or the 
 hospital, the spectacle was loathsome, sick- 
 ening, horrible. 
 
 From all the adjoining towns, and in- 
 deed from all sections, a sympathizing 
 population flowed in to the afflicted city. 
 Each arriving train brought crowds of 
 anxious visitors, who gathered to gaze in 
 wonder upon the awful disaster, until the 
 bridge, the ice-bound canal, and the street 
 that overlooked it, were thronged with a 
 
 living mass of human beings, pressing as 
 close to the ruins as the heat of the still 
 smoking pile would allow. Gradually, as 
 the ruins became cool enough, the work- 
 men resumed the search for dead bodie.'^, 
 energetically ai)i)lying themselves to the 
 sad task, being spurred on by intense anx- 
 iety and woe, tempered with the hope of 
 finding at last the precious remains sought 
 for. A cold drizzling rain now set in, 
 which finally changed to snow. Derricks 
 were now raised to hoist the heavy masses 
 of machinery, and from this time to the 
 close of the week, bodies were almost 
 hourly recovered and conveyed to the dead- 
 room. Some were found in nearly a per- 
 fect state, and were easily recognized ; 
 others were mutilated and disfigured, and 
 could only be identified by fragments of 
 clothing. It deserves here to be men- 
 tioned, that when the firemen became 
 exhausted, a large number of ladies at 
 once volunteered and manned the brakes 
 of the engines, doing good service in this 
 capacity. 
 
 The incidents of suffering, heroism, 
 hairbreadth escapes, and personal experi- 
 ences of one kind and another, connected 
 with this fearful tragedy, would well-nigh 
 fill a volume. A few only can here be 
 given, but these will amply depicture to 
 the mind the diversified horrors of the 
 calamity. 
 
 Of female courage, one instance in espe- 
 cial will never be forgotten. At a partic- 
 ular point, when a rope had been fixed to a 
 projecting timber, a call was made to the 
 crowd to take hold and pull with a will, 
 but for a few minutes, such was the dan- 
 ger of the attempt — for the beam in fall- 
 in^y might engulf all who were near it — 
 the call was unheeded. Men shuddered 
 and drew back ; they would risk much to 
 aid those below, but life was sweet, and 
 the peril great. At this critical juncture, 
 a woman rushed from among the crowd, 
 and daring the spectators to follow, seized 
 the rope and attempted to mount the pile 
 of smouldering ruins to clear away with her 
 own hands. Toe example was enough ; 
 not a woi-d was said, but strong hands at 
 
728 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 once drew her back, and then there was no 
 hick of force at the rope, the beam was 
 drawn out, and at least two sufferers re- 
 leased through the opening thus made. 
 
 Among the sufferers in the ruins at the 
 time the fire broke out, was one of the 
 overseers, a man much beloved by all who 
 knew him, and whose voice was distinctly 
 heard while the digging was going on. 
 He was nearly reached when the flames 
 broke out. Seeing his situation, he im- 
 plored his friends to save him quickly or 
 he should die, and though they struggled 
 to reach him, the flames swept around and 
 baffled every effort. Being confined, he 
 could do nothing to resist the fire, and as 
 its heat increased every moment, his hor- 
 rible death seemed inevitable. He was 
 able to move one hand, and, drawing his 
 knife, said he should commit suicide rather 
 than burn to death. His rescuers pressed 
 on, but all hope of aid gave out, and he 
 drew the knife across his throat. Soon 
 after, they succeeded in removing him, 
 still alive, to the city hall, but he expired 
 shortly after. 
 
 Every effort which humanity and inge- 
 nuity could devise was put into operation. 
 By means of ropes, bars, and other con- 
 trivances, some scores of persons were at 
 once taken out, more or less wounded, and 
 their lives thus fortunately preserved. 
 ])esides those thus saved, a large number 
 of oj)eratives, mostly males, who were in 
 tlie weaving-room, which was in the lower 
 story, managed to escape by crawling up 
 from that room through a couple of low 
 windows which were not obstructed. The 
 weaving-room was partially saved by a 
 heavy stone floor of the story above, and 
 many in this department Avere saved. 
 But one of the most Avondcrful escapes 
 was that of a maiden lady about forty 
 years old, who worked in one of the upper 
 rooms. She was precipitated to the ruins, 
 in a headlong and promiscuous manner, 
 with timbers, portions of the roof, bricks, 
 machiner}^, and debris generally, but, 
 strange to say, alighted unharmed. It is 
 related by a gentleman who was early on 
 the spot, that at one point of the ruins he 
 
 distinguished a female voice crying in dis- 
 tress, and soon another voice answered, 
 " Is that you, Lizzie ? Are you hurt ? " 
 The reply was another groan, and a 
 piteous appeal to God's mercy in her 
 behalf ; both these girls were afterwards 
 rescued. Just before the flames burst 
 forth a young girl was released, and, in 
 answer to a question, stated thai she was 
 unhurt ; it afterwards appeared, however, 
 that her right arm was badly broken near 
 the wrist, but, in the excitement of the 
 moment and the joy of her deliverance 
 from a dreadful death, she was totally 
 unconscious of the hurt. 
 
 A poor girl, alive and fully conscious, 
 was dragged from the east end of the 
 fallen mass, with her left arm torn from 
 the socket, and her body and legs awfully 
 mangled. In one place the bodies of 
 three girls were found locked in each 
 other's arms, but quite dead ; they could 
 not be removed without mutilating or 
 breaking the limbs, and, being abandoned 
 for a time, the flames broke out before 
 another attempt was made, and all three 
 were consumed. A tough and plucky 
 Irishman was taken out, unhurt, from an 
 entanglement of beams and rubbish which 
 appeared capable of producing instant 
 death ; his first act, after bidding a scorn- 
 ful ' good riddance ' to the tight place he 
 had just filled, was to feel in his pocket, 
 from whence he drew forth a sooty ' du 
 deen,' and seizing a brand from the fire, 
 he lit his pipe and went his waj'. From 
 another part of the ruins there was borne 
 the dead body of a lad, and following him 
 was carried a beautiful girl with one of her 
 ankles burned to a crisp, she having been 
 confined by one foot between two beams; 
 and only by the utmost exertion was the 
 fair creature recovered. One woman was 
 found with her head jammed between two 
 heavy beams, and pressed so that it was 
 not thicker than the thickness of a 
 hand, — a most terrible and sickening 
 sight. The next case was that of a 
 young girl confined in a narrow hole sur- 
 rounded by broken machinery and ragged 
 timber and boards, who succeeded in just 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 729 
 
 squeezing through into open air, but when 
 she emerged from the ruins she had 
 scarcely an article of clothing on her 
 person. 
 
 In addition to the narrow escapes 
 already described, may be related that of 
 a little girl who, while two thousand men 
 were exerting every energy in extricating 
 the survivors from their living sepulchres 
 and the dead from the rubbish which 
 buried them, was fortunately discovered 
 by an exploring party. She lay appar- 
 ently crushed beneath a ponderous block 
 of iron, weighing more than a thousand 
 pounds, and which covered her body to 
 her chin. Her back was pressed against 
 a huge timber, one of her arms was thrust 
 to the elbow through a ring in a piece of 
 machinery, and she was completely wedged 
 in by heavy iron gearing. Intent only 
 on preserving her sweet features and ten- 
 der form as little disfigured as possible, 
 the men labored carefully to remove the 
 block of iron without crushing her still 
 further. Four or five of them tugged 
 upon it, but could not make it stir. After 
 they had made several ineffectual attempts, 
 a stalwart and athletic man, in passing, 
 caught hold of it, and, with marvelous 
 power, aided doubtless, by the excitement 
 which the scene produced upon him, he 
 succeeded in loosening it. The other 
 materials were then removed, and the 
 body taken out, when, what was the sur- 
 prise and joy of the noble-hearted Avork- 
 men, that they had rescued a living girl, 
 instead of a corpse, and, what was more, 
 that her injuries were not fatal, but com- 
 paratively trifling. It proved, on examin- 
 ation, that the heavy iron had met with 
 'some more powerful obstruction just as it 
 touched and wedged her fast, and thus her 
 life was spared ; but, had the pressure 
 upon her body been only very slightly 
 increased, or had the least carelessness 
 attended the labor of releasing her, she 
 would have been another added to the list 
 of victims. 
 
 In one of the cars, on the way to 
 Lawrence, a returning operative, who had 
 shortly before left the city of mourning to 
 
 find employment elsewhere, was seated by 
 a gentleman who drew forth a paper con- 
 taining a list of the dead and wounded so 
 far as was then ascertained. The opera- 
 tive looked over the gentleman's shoulder 
 and perused the list. As his eye caught 
 sight of a name, he uttered a piteous cry 
 of anguish, and, grasping the paper, he en- 
 deavored, through the fast trickling tears, 
 to read the name more distinctly, in which, 
 however, he could not succeed. " Is that 
 a Mrs. Clark ? " he asked, in a tremulous 
 tone. " It is," answered the gentleman 
 by his side. " Is it Annie Clark ? " pur- 
 sued the operative. " No, sir ; " responded 
 the other, " it is Catherine Clark ; there 
 is no Annie Clark in the list." " Thank 
 God for that!" exclaimed the operative, 
 as the tears — but now of joy — anew burst 
 forth. " Is it a relative you were anxious 
 for ? " inquired a sympathizing passenger. 
 "Yes, sir; " was the answer, with a sigh 
 of intense relief, " it is my wife ; but, 
 thank heaven ! her name is not there." 
 Words of hearty hope of his finding her 
 safe on his arrival, were freely spoken to 
 him. 
 
 But difficult indeed would it be to 
 embody in the space of a few pages the 
 details of a catastrophe, instantaneous and 
 unforeseen, by which some one hundred 
 lives were lost, three times that number 
 of persons wounded, and nearly a thou- 
 sand families deprived of their dailj' means 
 of subsistence. The deeds of heroism 
 on that awful night ; the sj-mpathy aroused 
 in the coldest hearts ; charity melting the 
 most selfish ; strength nerving the feeblest 
 arm ; patient endurance on the part of 
 the wounded ; quiet resignation in the 
 hearts of the mourners; — all these were 
 as extraordinary as the occasion which 
 called them forth. An appropriate type 
 or reflection of the spirit which actuated all 
 hearts were the three words, "Save Nash 
 firsf,'' — the cry of little Lizzie Flint, a 
 bright young girl, an only daughter, who 
 had brought from her home in the interior 
 of Maine the character that belongs to 
 the rural homes of New England. Poor 
 Nash, who lay severely wounded near her, 
 
730 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 and whose brother lost his life, was indeed 
 saved. The poor girl did not survive. 
 She died in the realization of her tender 
 and humane wish, that another, rather 
 than herself, might be saved. Peace to 
 her sweet spirit in the world of light ! 
 
 All events are due to some producing 
 cause, and to this fact the memorable and 
 disastrous catastrophe now described forms 
 no exception. The jury, as the result of 
 their protracted and painstaking inquiries, 
 declared that the mill fell on account of 
 the insufficiency and imperfection of the 
 material used, and the improper arrange- 
 ment of the same, the cast-iron shoring 
 being particularly weak. The brick walls 
 were unusually thin for a mill of such 
 height, length and breadth ; the space of 
 brick wall above and below the windows 
 in the building was uncommonly small ; 
 and the length of span from one support 
 
 
 ■ST- ^ — 
 
 LIZZIE AMIDST THE AWFUL KUINS. 
 
 to anotlier, under the floor timbers, as 
 well as tlie distance from one floor timber 
 to another, was greater than in other 
 mills. These were the direct causes of 
 the disaster. 
 
 In addition to the above, there was yet 
 another defect, in the inner supports of 
 the building, which added greatly to the 
 insecurity. These supports consisted of 
 cast-iron pillars to the last degree una- 
 dapted to fulfill their purpose, some of 
 them being upon one side only an eighth 
 of an inch in thickness, others showed a 
 want of sharpness in the material at the 
 time of casting, and nearly all of tliem 
 exhibited a reckless disregard and inex- 
 
 cusable negligence on the part of the 
 founder, in not providing a proper fasten- 
 ing to prevent the floating of the core, 
 and consequently an unequal distribution 
 of the molten iron. Moreover, it appeared 
 that at the time of the delivery of these 
 pillars at Lawrence, and previous to their 
 erection, no test of their soundness was 
 ever ordered or applied. The straightfor- 
 ward statement of the master mason 
 before the jury caused every heart in the 
 community to shudder with horror and 
 indignation, namely, that Avhen the tim- 
 bers for the upper stories came they were 
 too short, and orders came to put pro- 
 jectors upon the walls to rest the timbers 
 upon ; he expressed his opinion at the 
 time, and many times afterward, not only 
 to the architect, but to the owners and 
 others, while the mill was building, that 
 the walls were altogether too weak for 
 such a structure ! His warning was un- 
 heeded, and in a few j^eai's the vast and 
 towering pile toppled with sudden and 
 fearful crash to its foundation, bringing 
 multitudes to misery and wailing and 
 death. 
 
 In connection with the preceding narra- 
 tive of agony and death, some account of 
 the terrible Avondale colliery disaster, in 
 Plymouth, Pennsylvania, in September, 
 1869, may here have an appropriate inser- 
 tion. This colliery (according to the de- 
 scription given at the time in Harper's 
 Weekly,) produced, when in full working 
 order, seven hundred tons of coal per day ; 
 but for th':ee months previous to the first 
 of September, it was idle, owing to the 
 miners' strike. The masonry work of the 
 mine, running down the sides of the shaft 
 some twenty feet, was as strong as stone 
 and cement could make it. The engine- 
 house was firmly built; the machinery of 
 the very best kind ; and the breaker that 
 covered the engine-house, and through 
 which the broken coal Avas dispatched 
 through a long shoot to the railroad track 
 l)elo\v, was also built in a superior manner. 
 On the morning of September 6th, a fire 
 broke out, originating, as it appeared, in 
 the furnace. A spark ignited the dry 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 731 
 
 scantling adjacent; the flames leaped for- 
 ward to the bottom of the shaft, caught 
 the wood-work inside, climbed to the top, 
 and involved the coal-breaker and the sur- 
 rounding buildings. Whatever fresh air 
 there was in the mine went to feed the 
 fierce flame, while the sulphurous gases, 
 having no longer an outlet, were forced 
 back into the chambers and galleries of 
 the colliery. As the buildings at the top 
 of the shaft were consumed, their ruins 
 fell down and obstructed the only means 
 of entrance to or of egress from the mine. 
 But what had become of the miners ? In 
 the agonies of fear and suspense, their 
 families were congregated about the open- 
 ing in great numbers ; and miners from 
 all parts of the region rapidly arrived, to 
 rescue their comrades, if possible. It 
 was not until nine o'clock on the morning 
 of the 7th, that any encouraging prepai'a- 
 tions for a descent could be made, and still 
 the gas precluded any effective explora- 
 tion until the 8th. Early on that day, 
 two of the dead were found in the stable 
 of the mine ; and, a few hours later, a 
 large number of miners were found dead 
 on the east side of the plane. The next 
 party which descended reported that they 
 went up the jilane, just beyond which a 
 barrier was met, consisting of coal 'culm' 
 and clothing. This was cleared away, 
 and, a little further on, a similar barrier 
 was found to have been arranged by the 
 
 unfortunate inmates. One man was found 
 dead outside of the barricade. Upon the 
 removal of this second barrier, a pile of 
 dead miners was discovered. These were 
 found in all conceivable attitudes. Fath- 
 ers had died embracing their children, 
 and comrades locked in one another's arms. 
 Mr. Hughes, the superintendent, Avas 
 found sitting in a conspicuous position. 
 It seemed as if, when the miners found 
 there was no hope of escape or of rescue, 
 they had all assembled at the front, from 
 ever}^ recess of the mine. Their foreman, 
 Hughes, was there, and to him they all 
 looked for counsel. He seized upon the 
 one resource that was left. If the fresh 
 air could be imprisoned and a barrier 
 built against the invading gases — then, 
 perhaps, the men could live until help 
 came. Resolutely, under the orders of 
 their captain, they fell to work and built 
 the first barricade. There sat Hughes, 
 as he was afterward found, giving instruc- 
 tions to the men and boys. But all in 
 vain. At last, exhausted by their work, 
 and overcome by the deadly enemy that 
 would not be repvilsed, they fainted at 
 their posts, and died. As the bodies were 
 brought to the top of the shaft, their 
 faces were cleansed, and they were thus 
 prepared for the recognition of their 
 friends. By noon, on the 9th, one hun- 
 dred and eight bodies had been exhumed, 
 after which no more were found. 
 
LXXXY. 
 
 GRAND 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 OflBcial 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 Apjwarance 
 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 intercourse of friendship shall be held between both countries, and benevolent feelings «hall be cultivated more and 
 more, and never altered."— Lei TEK OF the Tvcoo.n to the I'kksiuem'. 
 
 ONTRARY 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 people, — 
 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 TREATT. 
 
GREAT AND MEMOKABLE EVENTS. 
 
 733 
 
 world, and now, for the first time, not only 
 admitting tlie visits of other nations, but 
 themselves undertaking a long and fatigu- 
 ing voyage to visit strangers in the utter- 
 most end of the earth, was certainly natural. 
 
 The embassy consisted of two principal 
 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, tliey proceeded thence to 
 San Francisco, where they arrived March 
 27, 1860, in good health and spirits. A 
 grand public reception was given them by 
 the city, the chief dignitaries of the em- 
 bassy being magnificently dressed in em- 
 broidered silk 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, 
 and 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 neigliborhood was filled with a 
 dense multitude, intent on Avitnessing a 
 spectacle so unj^recedented. The United 
 States marines, ordnance guards, and ma- 
 rine band, were in attendance to do the 
 honors of escort. True to tlie time they 
 had appointed, the Japanese officials com- 
 menced leaving their hotel at lialf-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 drawn, marched 
 on foot, one of them carrying aloft a small 
 ensign in Japanese fasliion, 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 Episcopal 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, shajTed 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 'p'lnk. 
 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 
 
734 
 
 OUK FIKST CENT QRY.— 1776-1876. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 735 
 
 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 nav}', 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 Avhich 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 majestj', 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 justl}^ expect from 
 the happy auspices under which it has 
 been negotiated and ratified. 
 
 I rejoice that you are pleased with the 
 kind treatment which you have received 
 on board of our vessels of war whilst on 
 your passage to this countrj^ You shall be 
 sent back in the same manner to your 
 
736 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 liis most gra- 
 cious bows, but 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 difiiculty, and not a little 
 delay, oared his way through the sea of 
 ladies' bonnets and ofiicers' epaulettes 
 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 Tj'-coon to the president, 
 which was delivered by the ambassadors : 
 "To His Majesty the President of the 
 United States of America, I express with 
 resjiect: 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 3'our 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 
 whom I have chosen and confided in for 
 the present post, I desire 3'ou 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 
 Roman. 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 
 walking-cane. The hair was shaved from 
 all parts of the head excepting the sides 
 and back, from M'hich it was gathered in 
 long bands to the crow^n, 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 •37 
 
 can make use of), the other longer. These 
 weapons are of a liner steel than is else- 
 where made, and were borne in neatly- 
 wrouglit scabbards of thick skin, inlaid 
 with ornaments of gold and jewels. Their 
 trousers were very wide and short, de- 
 scending only to witliin live or six inches 
 of the ground, and were made of silk, some 
 of them being covered witli beautifully 
 embroidered lisjures 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 wliite cloth coverings, half 
 sock, luilf gaiter, closely fitting, and fast- 
 ened by cords. Their sandals were of 
 sti*aw, 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 pipe, — was carried in 
 the back part of the belt, and was brought 
 into very frequent, thougli 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 protuberant appearance 
 quite unaccountable at first siglit. 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 j)rince 
 whom they served. 
 
 President Buchanan extended the cour- 
 tesies of the nation to llie distinguislied 
 strangers in a manner befitting his high 
 station, nor was he an unappreciating 
 observer of their manners and peculiarities. 
 "They never speak to me," he humor- 
 ously said, "without calling mo 'Emperor' 
 and 'His Majesty,' 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 
 17 
 
 I here in front, to hear the band, on Satur- 
 day. Well, I went down the steps to 
 spuak to some of my friends that I saw, 
 and they couldn't understand that at all. 
 To think that I — 'Emperor of the United 
 States ' — should go down among and shake 
 hands with the people, 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 possible ; 
 there's no getting anything out of them, 
 they'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. 
 The interest manifested by the public in 
 the appearance and movements of the 
 Japanese was a source of continued grati- 
 fication to the oriental visitors ; the}^ 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 .'cninibled 
 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 
 
738 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 a special object of curiosity ; tlie source 
 whence such beautiful harmonies proceeded 
 was a profound mystery to tliem, 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 interj^reters, 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 chilling ^ Poppy Goes 
 the Weasel,' — thinking the extra sj'llable 
 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 
 
 AMUASSADUKS SIMM! BOOJ8EN NOKAMI AND MOOKAGAKI AWAJSI NOKAMI. 
 
 was a thorough pet. Bevies of maidens 
 gazed beneficently upon him all da}', 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 
 liavebutfew 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 exactly 
 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, 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 739 
 
 "Take it, my lady," at tlie same time 
 handing it to her 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 pleasure 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 theJi 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. 
 
 After a tour through different portions 
 of the country, including visits to the 
 principal cities, where they were the recip- 
 ients of the most lavish and magnificent 
 hospitalities, thej'^ 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 3'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 re})lied 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 verj' agreeable time during 
 the remainder of 3'our 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 imperialmajesty the Tycoon, 
 which will be sent to your lodgings in the 
 course of the day." 
 
 The embassy left the United States on 
 the first of July, in the magnificent ship- 
 of-war Niagara, carrying 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. 
 
LXXXYI. 
 
 ARRIVAL AND EXHIBITION, IX NEW YORK, OF THE 
 IRON STEAMSHIP GREAT EASTERN.— 18G0. 
 
 The Largest and Most Extraordinary Vessel ever Constructed. — Burden, Twenty Thousand Tons; 
 Length, Six Hundred and Eighty Feet. — Tens of Thousands of Visitors from all Parts of the 
 Union.— Admiration of Her Majestic Proportions, Ease of Movement, and Her Splendid and 
 Powerful Machinery. — Matcliiess Triumph of Human Genius and Sliill — " Wonders of tlie World," 
 So Called. — Modern Achievements Pre-eminent. — Marvels of Steam Application. — First 
 Crossing of the Atlantic. — Voyage of the Savannah in 1818. — Curiosity and Wonder Excited. 
 — Visited by Crowned Heads — Most Peculiar Reminiscences. — Building the Great Western. — First 
 Regular Ocean Steamer. — Her Complete Success.— Growth of Ocean Steam Transit. — Conception 
 of the Great Eastern. — Her Nautical Peculiarities — Architectural Perfection. — Superb Appointments 
 Throughout. — Working Power, Eight Thousand Horses. — Ship's Weight, Twelve Thousand Tons. — 
 Rated for Four Thousand Passengers. — Appearance in New York Harbor. — Salutes, Escorts, etc. — 
 Greeted by Dense Throngs. 
 
 " The RreatPRt conquest of intellect over inanimate stiatter and the blind forces of nature, that has ever been achieved by the human 
 
 mC8."— SCIENIIKIU AMiiRICAM, AUOUST 4, WiU. 
 
 THE GREAT EASTERN. 
 
 Bonders of the World" was the title of a volume which, in clays gone hy, 
 was eagerly sought by readers of both sexes and of aln:ost every age, its contents excit- 
 ing a degree of interest and admiration which, at this period, seems well-nigh fabulous. 
 The "wonders" therein enumerated and described were seven, all of which pertained 
 to the land of the orient and to the skill and craft of the ancients. They were as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 First, the Egyptian Pyramids; the largest of these being nearly seven hundred feet 
 square and five hundred feet high, and its base covering eleven acres. Second, the 
 Mausoleum, erected to Mausolus, a king of Caria, by his widow, Artemisia; it was 
 sixty-three feet long and thirty-five feet high. Third, the Temple of Diana, at Ephesus. 
 
GEE AT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 741 
 
 This was four hundred and twenty-five feet 
 long and two hundred and twenty feet 
 broad. 
 
 Fourth, the Walls and Hanging Gar- 
 dens of Babylon ; said to have been walls 
 eighty-seven feet thick, three hundred and 
 fifty feet high, and sixty miles long. 
 
 Fifth, the Colossus of Khodes. This 
 was a brazen statue of Apollo, one hundred 
 and five feet high, standing at the mouth 
 of the harbor of Rhodes. 
 
 Sixth, the Statue of Jupiter Olympus, 
 at Athens ; it was made of ivory and gold, 
 and was wonderful for its beauty rather 
 than for its size. 
 
 Seventh, the Pharos of Ptolemy Phila- 
 delphus. This was a light-house, five hun- 
 dred feet high, on the island of Pharos, at 
 Alexandria, in Egypt. A fire of wood was 
 kept burning on its summit during the 
 night, to guide ships to the harbor. 
 
 How much greater the ivoiiders of mod- 
 ern times! Pre-eminentlv is this true of 
 those marvelous discoveries and inventions 
 which pertain to the application of steam 
 to locomotion on land and water — the sub- 
 ject of the present article, the construction 
 of the Great Eastern and its memorable 
 voyage to New York, furnishing the most 
 magnificent illustration of the latter. 
 
 It is an interesting fact, that, as early as 
 
 1818, American enterprise had inaugurated 
 ocean steam navigation, — at least to such 
 an extent as to demonstrate its practica- 
 bility. This was the ship Savannah, of 
 about three hundred tons, built in New 
 York, from which place she sailed for 
 Savannah, where she was owned, in March, 
 
 1819. The trial trip was highly success- 
 ful. The vessel then proceeded to Charles- 
 ton, and after being lionized there for a 
 short time, took James Monroe, then pres- 
 ident of the United States, to Savannah. 
 On the 26th of May, she sailed direct for 
 Liverpool, making the passage in twenty- 
 two days, partly by steam and partly by 
 sails. She was commanded by Capt. Ste- 
 vens Rogers. 
 
 Several amusing incidents occurred in 
 connecticn with this voyage of the Savan- 
 nah, one or two of which, as related in the 
 
 columns of a New York paper, will cer- 
 tainly bear repetition. It appears that 
 M'hen the ship was approaching Cape Clear, 
 under steam, she was discovered by the 
 officers of the telegraph or signal station, 
 and was reported to the admiral in com- 
 mand at Cork, as a ship on fire. The 
 admiral at once dispatched a fast cutter, 
 well manned, to her relief; but great was 
 their wonder at their total inability', under 
 all sail and with a good breeze, to come up 
 with "a ship under bare poles." After 
 several shots had been fired from the 
 cutter, the engine of the ship was stopped 
 and the cutter permitted to apjiroach, when 
 her officers were invited on board to exam- 
 ine and admire the new invention. Soon 
 after dropping her anchor in the harbor of 
 Liverpool, a boat, manned with sailors in 
 naval uniform, commanded by a lieuten- 
 ant, came alongside, and the officer, in a 
 tone more authoritative than pleasing, 
 demanded of the first man he saw — 
 " Where is your master ? " 
 " I have no master,^' replied the Ameri- 
 can. 
 
 '' Where is your captain, then, sir? " 
 " He is below, sir," was the repl3\ 
 Captain Rogers asked the Englishman 
 what he wanted- The officer replied, " My 
 commander demands to know by M'hat 
 authority you wear that pennant, sir ? " — 
 pointing with his sword to a coach-whip 
 pennant flying at the main-mast head. To 
 this the captain replied — 
 
 "By the authority of my government, 
 which is republican and permits me to do 
 
 so. 
 
 The officer then remarked that his com- 
 mander considered it as an insult to him, 
 and, commanding the American to haul 
 down the pennant, intimated that, if it was 
 not qui<;kly done, he would be supplied 
 with help. This was a little too harsh for 
 Yankee spirit to endure, and Rogers in- 
 stantly gave the order to haul down the 
 coach-whip, and svjiply its place with a 
 broad hhie pennant, such as were worn by 
 the commanders of squadrons in the Amer- 
 ican navy, and ranking with the highest 
 grade in that of the British, and then, in 
 
742 
 
 OUR FIRST CE:^fTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 a loud tone of A'oice — so that he might he 
 heard hy the English — he directed the 
 engineer to get the hot-water /y**/?es ready. 
 This order had the desired effect, although 
 there was no such apparatus on board, and 
 the gallant lieutenant and his crew pulled 
 for dear life. The hot-water jeers, which 
 were subsequently leveled at these brave 
 specimens of the British navy, caused 
 them to start upon an early cruise. 
 
 In Liverpool, the Savannah attracted 
 great attention on the part of the authori- 
 ties and citizens, and, as her fame spread 
 to London, the crown officers, noblemen, 
 and many leading merchants, visited her. 
 The officers were very anxious to ascertain 
 her speed, her errand, and her destination. 
 It was suspected by some that her design 
 was to rescue Napoleon Bonaparte, then a 
 prisoner at St. Helena. She was there- 
 fore carefully watched by the British gov- 
 ernment, and ships of war were stationed 
 at certain points for that purpose. 
 
 Proceeding to Copenhagen, the Savan- 
 nah excited great manifestations of wonder 
 and curiosity. On arriving at Stockholm, 
 she was visited by the royal family, minis- 
 ters of state, and naval officers, who, by 
 invitation, dined on board, and took an 
 excursion among the neighboring islands, 
 with which they were delighted, so easy, 
 rapid, and strange, were the movements of 
 the vessel. 
 
 The Savannah next proceeded to St. 
 Petersburg, where she was visited by the 
 entire court, who tested her qualities by a 
 trip to Cronstadt. So well pleased was 
 the emperor, that the officers were treated 
 with marked attention. They Avere in- 
 vited to be present at a review of eighty 
 thousand troops by the emperor in person; 
 and a frigate of the largest class was 
 launched on the "Camels," and taken 
 down to Cronstadt, as an exhibition of the 
 progress of tlie arts in Russia. Tlie em- 
 peror also solicited Captain Rogers to 
 remain in the Russian seas witli his 
 steamer, offering him the protection of the 
 government and the exclusive navigation 
 of the Black and Baltic seas for a number 
 of years. 
 
 From St. Petersburg, the Savannah 
 sailed for Arendal, in Norway, and thence 
 to Savannah, making the passage in 
 twenty-five days, thus ending the first 
 voyage ever made across the Atlantic by 
 the aid of steam. But, though the practi- 
 cability of trans-oceanic steam navigation 
 was, in effect, assured by this trip, — as 
 well as by the steam voyages of the Cura- 
 coa, which, in 1829, made two trips be- 
 tween Holland and the West Indies, — sails 
 were depended upon, to a considerable 
 extent, by both vessels. The first perfect 
 realization of this marvelous idea was not 
 until some years later. The first keel laid 
 expressly for an Atlantic steamship was 
 that of the Great Western, of Bristol, 
 England, which, in Ajiril, 1838, crossed to 
 New York, and returned in May. She 
 was preceded, at an interval of three days, 
 by the Sirius, of Liverjiool, a vessel not 
 built for but adapted to this service. Each 
 performed, without supplies, above three 
 thousand miles, at an average rate of two 
 hundred and ten miles a day. 
 
 But, without going into a history of the 
 splendid lines of trans-atlantic steamers 
 which followed the auspicious inauguration 
 above described, it may be said that the 
 most magnificent conception and achieve- 
 ment, the great wonder of modern times, 
 in oceanic navigation, is to be found in the 
 construction and performances of the 
 steamship Great Eastern, the joint produc- 
 tion of Mr. Scott Russell and Mr. Brunei, 
 of England. 
 
 A brief description of this most stupen- 
 dous and marvelous of steamships will here 
 be given, and then an account of that 
 memorable event — her voyage across the 
 Atlantic, and arrival and eochihition in 
 this country, which is the design of this 
 article. 
 
 With one or two exceptions, this mam- 
 moth shij) is (the description here given 
 applies to the time when the Great Brit- 
 ain was approaching completion) an ex- 
 tended copy merely of all other iron 
 steamers built on the wave-line principle. 
 The most important of the exceptions 
 alluded to is the cellular construction of 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 743 
 
 the upper deck and the lower part of the 
 hull, up to the water-line, or about thirty 
 feet from her bottom, which is as flat as 
 the floor of a room. This system, while it 
 giv^es great buoyancy to the liull, increases 
 her strength enormously, and thus enables 
 her to resist almost any amount of outside 
 pressure. Again, two walls of iron, about 
 sixty feet higli, divide the vessel longitu- 
 dinally into three parts — the inner con- 
 taining the boilers, the engine rooms, and 
 the saloons, rising one above the other, and 
 the lateral divisions the coal bunkers, and, 
 above them, the side cabins and berths. 
 
 The paddle-wheels are fifty-six feet in 
 diameter, and their weight one hundred 
 and eightj^-five tons. The engines for the 
 paddle-wheels are oscillating engines, of 
 one thousand nominal liorse-power, with 
 four cylinders, the weight of each 'adinder, 
 including piston and piston-rod, being 
 thirty -eight tons. There are four boilers 
 for the paddle-engine, seventeen feet nine 
 inches long, seventeen feet six inches wide, 
 thirteen feet nine inches high, and each 
 weighing about fifty tons, and containing 
 forty tons of water. The screw propeller, 
 which is twenty-four feet in diameter, and 
 forty-four feet pitch, is b}'^ far the largest 
 ever made. Its four fans, which were cast 
 separately, and afterwards fitted into a 
 large cast-iron boss, were comjiared to the 
 blade bones of some huge animal of the 
 pre- Adamite world. The weight of the 
 screw is thirty-six tons. The propeller 
 shaft, for moving the screw itself, is one 
 hundred and sixty feet long, and weighs 
 sixty tons; the afterdength of this shaft 
 is forty-seven feet long, and weighs thirty- 
 five tons. 
 
 The screw engines are horizontal direct- 
 acting, and of sixteen hundred nominal 
 horsepower. They are four in number, 
 and are the largest ever made for marine 
 purposes. The combined screw engines 
 work up to an indicator-power of four 
 thousand five hundred horses of thirty- 
 three thousand pounds, when working at 
 forty-five strokes a minute, with steam in 
 the boiler at fifteen pounds, and the expan- 
 sion valve cutting off at one-third of the 
 
 stroke. They are, however, made to work 
 smoothly, either at forty strokes per min- 
 ute, with steam at twenty-five pounds, with- 
 out expansion or at fifty-five strokes per 
 minute, with the expansion cutting off 
 at one-fourth of the stroke. Under ihese 
 circumstances, they will be working at the 
 tremendous power of six thousand five 
 hundred horses. 
 
 There ai-e six masts, five of them iron, 
 the after-mast wood. The standing rig- 
 ging is seven and a half inch wire rope, 
 except for the sixth mast, which is hemp 
 rope. There is not a particle of iron about 
 this mast, it being intended for the posi- 
 tion of the compass. 
 
 In the matter of accommodations, the 
 Great Eastern is designed to carry eight 
 hundred first-class, two thousand second- 
 class, and one thousand two hundred third- 
 class passengers, independently of the 
 ship's complement, making a total of four 
 thousand guests. For the convenience of 
 these, there are whole streets and squares 
 of apartments. The first thing that ar- 
 rests the attention, on descending into the 
 saloons, is the handsome and roomy en- 
 trances and the spacious stairs. The first- 
 class saloons and sleeping-cabins are in the 
 fore-part of the center of the vessel, the 
 second class abaft them, and the third 
 class still further aft. The largest saloon 
 is nearly one hundred feet long, thirty-six 
 feet wide, and thirteen feet high. Above 
 it are two other saloons, one above sixty 
 feet long, and a smaller one, about twenty- 
 four feet long, — the latter is a ladies' cabin. 
 The sleeping-cabins are about fourteen feet 
 long by seven or eight feet wide, and seven 
 feet four inches high. There are also six 
 other saloons, with their different sleeping 
 cabins, — the total length thus occupied by 
 the cabins being more than three hundred 
 feet. 
 
 Having been thoroughly tested in re- 
 spect to her sea-going qualities, the mam- 
 moth ship was advertised to the travel- 
 ing public in a poster only sixteen 
 inches long, and of the following modest 
 tenor : 
 
 " Steam communication from Southamp- 
 
744 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1.S76. 
 
 '- 1 * n 
 
 ton to New York. The stean>ship 
 " Great Eastern," 18,915 tons register, 
 J. Vine Hal], commander, will be dis- 
 patched to New York on Saturday, June 
 9, 1860." Then followed a schedule of 
 prices for passengers, luggage, freight, 
 etc. 
 
 Some delay attended the carrying out 
 of the programme for her dejiarture for 
 the western world, but when, at last, 
 that event took place, it was witnessed 
 by tens of thousands of enthusiastic 
 spectators covering every available sj^ot, 
 the scene being one of the grandest ever 
 presented to the human eye. 
 
 On the 28th of June, the splendid ship 
 made her appearance in the harbor of 
 New York, reaching the light-ship at 
 half-past seven in the morning. There 
 she anchored ; at two o'clock, in the 
 afternoon, high Avater, she crossed the 
 bar, and proceeded to the citj', arriving 
 at her dock at six p. M. The event 
 created the greatest excitement through- 
 out the city ; business was generally 
 neglected, and multitudes of people 
 thronged the wharves and roofs to get 
 a glance at the monster. 
 
 Some account of the voyage will be 
 interesting at this point. She left the 
 Needles at ten o'clock in the forenoon, 
 June 17th. With the exception of two 
 dajs, she experienced fine weallier. 
 She steamed the entire passage, ranging 
 from 254 to 333 miles per twenty-four 
 hours. The engines were not stopped 
 until she was off George's Shoal, for 
 soundings. She came in a route south- 
 east, direct to the light-ship, where she 
 was boarded by the ship news-collector 
 and Mr. John Van Dusen, of pilot boat 
 Washington, No. 4, a business partner 
 of Admiral Murjihy, who went out to 
 Southampton for the ship. She drew 
 twenty-seven feet of water aft, but was 
 trimmed to an even keel before crossing 
 the bar. The following is the number of 
 miles made per day : June 1 7, 285 miles ; 
 18th, 296; 19th, — ; 20th, 276; 21st, 
 304; 22d, 280; 23d, 302; 24th, 299; 
 25th, S25j 26th, 533} 27th, 254. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 745 
 
 The highest speed nttained was fourteen 
 and a luilf knots; but the ship's bottom 
 being foul, an allowance of at least two 
 knots an hour should be made on that 
 account. The distance from Southampton 
 is reckoned at three thousand one hundred 
 and ninety miles, but to avoid the ice she 
 went further south. 
 
 The operation of crossing the bar was a 
 delicate and critical one. The order was 
 finall}' given by ]\Ir. Murphy, under wliose 
 command the ship had now passed, to "■ Go 
 ahead." The engineer waved liis liand, 
 the oflficer below repeated the order to 
 those still further below, and in a miniite 
 the great wheels commenced their revolu- 
 tions. The stupendous fabric yielded to 
 the mighty jiower within her bowels, and, 
 moving slowly on its way, commenced, as 
 it were, a triumphal march toward the 
 cit}'. Gradually the point of danger was 
 approached — the perilous bar was at hand. 
 Speed Avas accordingly slackened, and Mr. 
 Murphy from his position silently gave his 
 orders. A simple elevation or depression 
 of the hand indicated to the helmsmen the 
 course to be pursued, and the ship under 
 this skillful guidance — obeying her helm 
 with almost the readiness of a sail boat — 
 proceeded on her way. 
 
 Passing Fort Lafa^'ette, a salute Avas 
 fired, which was promptly responded to 
 from the four guns of the Great Eastern, 
 and from this time onward, vmtil her ar- 
 rival in the North River, it was one con- 
 tinual ovation to the distinguished stranger. 
 Cannon boomed, steam whistles shrieked 
 until almost wheezy, flags were dipped in 
 graceful welcome, people hurrahed, hand- 
 kerchiefs waved, swift-tleeting yachts dash- 
 ed along in the huge shadow under a cloud 
 of canvas, as if bowing in acknowledgment 
 of the superior towering above them, and 
 demonstrations of a kindly nature came 
 from every quarter. Indeed, as far as the 
 eye could see, the tops of houses in New 
 York and its suburbs were thronged with 
 people excited to the highest degree of 
 curiosity and enthusiasm. The battery 
 was fairly black with the dense multitude, 
 and wharves, shipping, and every other 
 
 foothold commanding a view of the scene, 
 presented the same animated ai)pearance. 
 
 As the vessel neared the city, the interest 
 of the occasion became, if possible, more and 
 more manifest. Hundreds of little craft 
 shot out into the stream, and fell in the 
 wake of the Great Eastern. Looking down 
 from her foretop — an elevation almost equal 
 to that of the tallest ordinary mast — it 
 seemed like a fairy spectacle on the grand- 
 est scale. Below was the beautiful outline 
 of the largest steamer in the world, gliding 
 so majestically and quietly through the 
 water that her motion was hardly percepti- 
 ble, while behind, as far as the eye could 
 reach — commencing with a few fast steam- 
 ers at the stern — spread out the escort in 
 the shape of an immense fan, every fold of 
 which was quivering with beautifvd life. 
 AVhen nearly off the batter}', the chimes 
 of Trinity Church were heard across the 
 water, playing " Rule Britannia." Sa- 
 lutes, also, were fired from all the steamers 
 in port, not excepting, of course, the 
 Cunarders at Jersey City, which, on this 
 occasion, did extra honors. 
 
 Before landing, the Great Eastern pro- 
 ceeded up the North River, as far as Eorty- 
 fifth street ; but the distance was hardly 
 perceptible. Here, after some difificulty, 
 she was turned and headed down stream 
 for her dock, where, contrary to general 
 expectation, she was at once moored. The 
 manner in which this was done, reflected 
 the highest credit on Mr. Murphy, the 
 pilot ; and the reader can appreciate the 
 daring nature of the undertaking by con- 
 sidering the fact that the immense ship 
 was carried alongside by the pilot — to the 
 no small astonishment of every individual 
 on board, including the officers, — with as 
 much ease, apparently, as he would have 
 handled his own pilot-boat, governed alone 
 by her own impetus, and without the aid 
 even of a single friendly hawser from a 
 steam tug. Here she was made to touch 
 the dock in a gentle way, clipping off only 
 a splinter, comparatively, as she came 
 alongside : hawsers were got out, the pas- 
 sengers' luggage was duly inspected and 
 removed, a varm-hearted good-bye was 
 
746 
 
 OUE riKST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 said all around, the company departed for 
 their resjjective destinations, and the 
 Great Eastei'n quietly settled her huge 
 hodj" into its temporary rest. Strange to 
 say, only forty-three passengers could be 
 found in the year 1860 to "venture" on 
 the first voyage of the most splendid ship 
 that ever floated in the ocean ; but this 
 was owing, of course, to the novelty and 
 vastness of the experiment, and to the 
 serious doubts which had been so freely 
 expressed from the very first conception of 
 the enterprise, as to the manageableness of 
 such a vessel in a storm at sea. 
 
 For many weeks, the Great Eastern was 
 visited by tens of thousands of persons, 
 who gladly paid the admission fee charged, 
 to inspect the majestic structure. They 
 saw, in the Great Eastern, a ship twice as 
 long (six hundred and eighty feet) as the 
 United States frigate Niagara, and nearly 
 five times the tonnage (about twenty thou- 
 sand) of that giant of the American navy. 
 Four times up and down her deck will 
 make a mile's walk. Built wholly of iron 
 plates, the greatest possible amount of 
 strength seemed to be thus attained. Each 
 plate was separately designed by the 
 builder, Mr. Brunei, and there are but a 
 few amidships, out of the whole ten thou- 
 sand, which resemble each other in shape. 
 He made an exhct pattern in wood of each ; 
 steam shears cut the plates of iron to 
 match, a steam roller curved them to suit, 
 and a steam punch punched holes for 
 the bolts ; these were applied at a white 
 heat and riveted close — the contraction 
 which occurred when they cooled draw- 
 ing the plates together with irresist- 
 ible force. Ten thousand tons of iron, in 
 thirty thousand plates and three hundred 
 thousand rivets, were employed in the 
 construction of her hull. With accom- 
 modations for four thousand passengers, 
 she can carry instead, if need be, ten 
 thousand soldiers, in addition to her crew 
 of four hundred. 
 
 The weight of this luige ship being 
 twelve thousand tons, and coal and cargo 
 about eighteen thousand tons more, the 
 motive power to propel her must of course 
 
 be proportionate; and it was this feature 
 in the majestic ship, not less than her 
 immense size, which astonished the visitor. 
 As he walked aft, and looked down a deep 
 chasm near the stern, he perceived an 
 enormous metal shaft, one hundred and 
 sixty feet in length, and weighing sixty 
 tons ; this extends from the engine-room 
 nearest the stern to the extremity of the 
 vessel, and is what moves the screw. As 
 the visitor next walked forward, and looked 
 over the side, he saw the immense paddle- 
 wheel, which, with its fellow, is driven by 
 the four great engines, already described, 
 having a nominal power of one thousand 
 horses, the nominal horse-pouer of the 
 screw being rated at sixteen hundred. 
 The screw engines, when making fifty rev- 
 olutions a minute, exert an effective force 
 of not less than eight thousand horses. 
 This gigantic force would drive the ma- 
 chinery of forty of the largest cotton mills, 
 giving employment to from thirty to forty 
 thousand operatives. 
 
 For several weeks, this grandest of nau- 
 tical structures was the chief object of 
 attraction in the United States, and Avas 
 pronounced, by all, the most superb con- 
 ception — the most wonderful achievement 
 — of human mind and skill. Large excur- 
 sion parties came from all the principal 
 cities of the Union, to view her lofty walls 
 of iron, her stupendous machinery, and her 
 marvelous internal arrangements; and, in 
 due time, opportunity was afforded those 
 who wished to witness her sailing quali- 
 ties, to be carried by the noble ship, on 
 pleasure excursions to Cape May and else- 
 where, — a privilege which thousands 
 availed themselves of, including many per- 
 sons eminent in nautical and scientific 
 matters. 
 
 One fact, for certain, in the construction 
 and appointments of this mighty ship, was 
 made manifest to the satisfaction of even 
 the most critical, namely, that no discov- 
 ery or invention of modern times, capable 
 of contributing to the ship's strength, 
 safety, and perfect completeness, was lost 
 sight of. Thus, the observer saw that she 
 was built in sixteen water-tight compart- 
 
GllEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 747 
 
 ments ; ton walls of iron, at distances of 
 sixty feet from each other, dividing her 
 transversely; and a longitudinal wall bi- 
 secting her for about half her length ; — so 
 that, in case of her running upon a rock, or 
 being shattered by storms, there would still 
 be safety on board. She is also lighted 
 
 throughout with gas, made on board, and, 
 on dark nights, an electric light shines 
 from the maintop ; the anchor is weighed, 
 the sails hoisted, and the pumps worked, 
 by steam ; and electric telegraphs enable 
 the captain to communicate instantane- 
 ously with the most remote officers. 
 
LXXXVII. 
 
 GENERAL WALKER'S FILLIBUSTERING EXPEDITIONS 
 TO SONORA, NICARAGUA, AND HONDURAS.— 1860. 
 
 Character, Method, and Object of His Schemes. — His Movements Marked by Bloodshed and Bold 
 Usurpation of Authority. — Retreat, Capture, and Court-Martial at Truxillo. — Cool l^esignation to 
 His Death Sentence — Solemn March to the Piace of Execution. — Is Shot, and Instantly Expires. — 
 Walker's " Star of Destiny." — Shortsighted Calculations. — Daring Qualities of the Man — Bitter Luck 
 in Sonora. — Starvation : Inglorious Flight. — Nicaragua the Land of Promise. — Contempt of Neutrality 
 Laws — United States Officials Outwitted. — Champagne i;s. Handcuffs. — Battles at Rivas and Virgin 
 Bay. — Splendid Successes of Walker. — Styles Himself" the Regenerator.'' — Treaty between Generals 
 Walker and Corral. — Corral Charged with Treason and Shot. — Combination Against Walker. — His 
 Escape to the United States — Xew but Abortive Attempts on Nicaragua. — Turns Up Next at 
 Truxillo. — Is Defeated by the Honduras Troops. — His Doom Announced to Him. — Dying Declara- 
 tions — A Volley; Three Cheers; the End. 
 
 'Those who accompanied me are not to blame. I alone am guilty. I askj^ardon of the people,"— Walk EB's Last Words. 
 
 EXECUTION OF GENERAL WALKER. 
 
 IXED and immovaLle in the belief that hit* 
 " star of destiny " would guide him to ulti- 
 mate success as a military conqueror and place the scep- 
 ter of power in his hands, William Walker hlindly misinterpreted the "handwriting 
 on the wall," which the successive defeats of his various fillibustering expeditions had 
 made so obvious to the understanding of others. Few adventurers of his class ever ran 
 such a race of shortsighted and fatal folly, and, thougli not without admiring friends 
 and followers, but little patriotic sympathy was evoked by the event which suddenly 
 closed his career. 
 
 The daring character of Walker as a fillibuster is a matter of astonishment, viewed 
 from the present point of time and history. In October, 1853, he was the leader of an 
 expedition which sailed from San Francisco, with the intention of taking possession of 
 Sonora, then a northern state of Mexico, adjoining California. He landed at a small 
 place on the coast, called La Paz, with some fifty or sixty men, where he met but little 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 749 
 
 resistance. He proclaimed " an independ- 
 ent Republic of Lower California," and 
 himself president, at the same time ap- 
 pointing each one of his party to some 
 official station. He very soon, however, 
 had to evacuate the premises, to save him- 
 self from starvation, escaping to San Diego, 
 where he surrendered himself to the 
 United States authorities. On his arrival 
 in San Francisco, he was tried for a viola- 
 tion of the neutrality laws, but was ac- 
 quitted, the people in that part of the 
 country sympathizing with him. 
 
 Early in the summer of 1855, he placed 
 himself at the head of an expedition, num- 
 bering about sixty men, for Nicaragua, 
 then in a state of internal conflict, and, 
 notwithstanding the Avatch kept upon his 
 movements by the government officials, he 
 managed to get all his men on board the 
 brig Vesta, which then lay in the harbor 
 of San Francisco, and to set sail during 
 the night. The vessel was at this very 
 time under seizure, and a deputy-sheriff's 
 officer had possession. At midnight, on 
 Monday, jMny 4th, Walker requested the 
 sheriff's officer to step below to examine 
 some documents in the cabin. The unsus- 
 pecting official complied. Tlie door shut, 
 he was informed that he was a prisoner. 
 In a slow, drawling voice. Walker said — 
 
 " There, sir, are cigars and champagne ; 
 and there are handcnjfs and irons. Pray 
 take your choice." 
 
 The deputy, a sensible man, took the 
 former, and was in a happy frame of mind 
 when he found himself being jdaced on 
 board the steam-tug to be taken back to 
 the scene of his official duties, — a wiser 
 and more thoughtful man, doubtless. 
 
 Walker landed at the port of Realejo, 
 and marched to Leon to join the head- 
 quarters of the Nicaraguan democratic 
 party or army. The legitimists, however, 
 though in a state of great consternation at 
 the approach of American rifles, had pre- 
 pared to give Walker a warm reception. 
 Proclamations were issued with the object 
 of rousing the patriotism of the people, 
 calling on all to be read}' to take up arms 
 to save the independence of the country, 
 
 and ordering all the inhabitants, on the 
 aj)proach of Walker, to retire to the near- 
 est garrison. 
 
 The first conspicuous service in which 
 Walker and his men were engaged was in 
 an expedition which w«s formed by the 
 democrats to recapture the town of Rivas. 
 The expeditionary force consisted of 
 Walker's men, and two hundred native 
 troops under the immediate command of 
 their own officers. They embarked at 
 Realejo, in two or three small vessels, and, 
 landing in the neighborhood of San Juan 
 del Sur, marched across the country upon 
 the town of Rivas, distant about twenty- 
 five miles. The people of Rivas, when 
 the legitimists re-took the town some 
 months previously, had returned from 
 their voluntary exile in Costa Rica, and 
 now roused themselves to make a stout 
 resistance. When the democrats arrived, 
 and the fight began. Walker was inglori~ 
 ously deserted by all the native troops, 
 and he found himself, Avith his fifty-six 
 Americans, opposed to a force of nearly 
 five hundred. His party, however, had 
 taken up their position in a house, from 
 which their rifles dealt sudden death most 
 profusely ; but at last they expended their 
 ammunition, and the legitimists setting 
 fire to the house, they were obliged to cut 
 their way through them, and retired to 
 San Juan del Sur. 1 he loss on Walker's 
 side, in this affair, was only ten, \\]\\\e of 
 his opponents one hundred and eighty 
 were either killed or wonnded. 
 
 At San Juan del Sur they found a small 
 schooner to take them back to Realejo. 
 He and his men had all embarked quietly 
 in the evening on board the schooner, 
 which was lying in the harbor, and were 
 waiting till morning for a breeze, when, 
 about midnight, two Americans, who did 
 not belong to the Walker party, and were 
 well known to be desperate characters, set 
 fire to a large wooden building which was 
 used as a barrack; their object being to 
 burn the town, and take the opportunity 
 of the confusion to rob and plunder the 
 inhabitants, expecting, no doubt, that 
 Walker's party would join them. But, on 
 
750 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 going on board one of Walker's vessels, 
 and boasting of what they had done, he 
 immediately arrested them, and, as there 
 were no authorities ashore to whom he 
 could hand them over, he had them tried 
 by a court-martial at once, by which they 
 were sentenced to be shot. One was shot 
 while endeavoring to make his escape in a 
 boat; the other was taken ashore to be 
 shot, where, in the darkness of the night, 
 he managed to escape from his guards. 
 
 About a month before this time. Gen- 
 eral Chamorro, chief of the legitimist 
 party, died, and was succeeded by General 
 Corral, who had already been actually in 
 command for some time. Walker did not 
 attempt another descent upon that part of 
 the country till the month of August, when 
 he landed at San Juan del Sur, with about 
 seventy-five Americans and two hundred 
 native troops. There he met with no 
 opposition, the forces of the legitimists 
 being all concentrated in the town of 
 Rivas. He shortly marched to the village 
 of Virgin Bay, on the lake ; while there, 
 he was attacked by a vastly superior force 
 of legitimists under General Guardiola. 
 The fight lasted several hours, but Walker 
 succeeded in driving them back to Rivas 
 with considerable loss. After this, he 
 again returned to San Juan del Sur. 
 
 In the month of October, Walker — now 
 holding a regular commission as com- 
 mander-in-chief of the democratic army, 
 and, having gradually augmented the 
 number of Americans under his command 
 to two hundred, and having a force of two 
 hundred and fifty native troops, — pro- 
 ceeded to Virgin Bay, and taking posses- 
 sion of one of the Transit Company's 
 steamers, he embarked his whole force. 
 After a few hours' passage he landed his 
 troops about two miles from Granada, and 
 marched directly on that stronghold of the 
 legitimists. General Corral was in Rivas, 
 with the greater part of his forces, expect- 
 ing Walker would make that the first 
 point of attack. The garrison in Granada 
 were completely taken by surprise, and, 
 after firing but a few shots, Walker had 
 full possession of the city, and his power 
 
 in Nicaragua was complete. Walker had 
 always claimed to be the ^'Regenerator of 
 Central America^ 
 
 A negotiation was afterwards entered 
 into, which resulted in a treaty of peace 
 being agreed upon, and signed by Walker 
 and Corral, as the representatives of their 
 respective parties. By this treaty, it was 
 agreed that the two governments which 
 had existed in the country since the com- 
 mencement of the revolution, should cease. 
 
 Don Patricio Rivas was declared provis- 
 ional president for fourteen months, and 
 Walker was made general-in-chief of the 
 army ; these, with four ministers to be 
 appointed by the president, were to form 
 the government. 
 
 General Corral, a day or two afterwards, 
 entered the city of Granada with his 
 troops, and was received b}-^ Walker. The 
 two generals then went through an impos- 
 ing ceremony of solemnly ratifj-ing the 
 treaty in church. A Te Deum was sung, 
 the legitimist troops were joined to the 
 democrats, becoming one army under the 
 command of Walker, and the ministei's of 
 state were then announced. 
 
 As the people found Walker to be a man 
 of ability, and maintaining strict discipline 
 among his troops, tranquillity soon pre- 
 vailed throughout the land, the inhabit- 
 ants being glad to see an end to those 
 scenes of plunder and excess which had 
 characterized the domestic struggles 
 through which they had so often and so 
 
GRF.AT AND INIEMORAIJLE EVENTS. 
 
 •51 
 
 recently passed. And even foreign gov- 
 ernments looked with satisfaction on the 
 apparently improved state of affaii's in that 
 long distracted country. It was not, how- 
 over, to last long. A short time onl}', 
 after Walker's old foe. Corral, had sol- 
 emnly ratified the treat}', he was charged 
 by Walker with plotting to upset the gov- 
 ernment. He was immediately tried by a 
 court-martial, over which Walker himself 
 presided, and, being declared guilty, he 
 •was sentenced to be shot the next day. 
 He was executed in the Plaza of Granada, 
 in presence of the Avhole army. 
 
 A few more military successes greatly 
 emboldened Walker, and, having in the 
 summer of 1856 caused himself to be 
 elected president, it Avas not long before 
 he entered upon a career which brought 
 him to an ignominious end. He revoked 
 by a decree the prohibition of slavery 
 which the country had observed for more 
 than thirty years. He also revoked, with- 
 out cause, the transit grant to the Nicara- 
 gua Company, and seized steamers be- 
 longing to American citizens. He made 
 war upon Costa Rica, the result proving to 
 his cause one of defeat, disaster, disap- 
 pointment, and distress. The Nicara- 
 guans and Costa Ricans combined against 
 him, drove him from place to place, until, 
 resistance becoming hopeless, he gladly 
 availed himself of the refuge afforded by 
 the United States sloop-of-war St. Mary, 
 Commodore Davis, on board of which he 
 and a number of his followers were re- 
 ceived, in due time reaching the United 
 States. 
 
 Walker's third and fourth expeditions, 
 sailing from New Orleans and Mobile, and 
 directed against Nicaragua, were hasty, 
 ill-planned, and miserably failed. But 
 this did not deter Walker from undertak- 
 ing one more scheme of conquest — in this 
 instance directed against the Bay of Isl- 
 ands, just then being ceded by Great 
 Britain to Honduras. For, though Walker 
 had long accustomed himself to look upon 
 Nicaragua as the land which was to real- 
 ize to him all his golden visions of wealth 
 and power, there seemed now, even to his 
 
 fertile imagination, no hope of ever again 
 obtaining any such foothold in that coun- 
 try as would lead to its subjugation. 
 
 It is a mistake, too, to suj)pose that in 
 the management of those Nicaraguan ex- 
 peditions. Walker was acting without pub- 
 lic sympathy at the south and in Cali- 
 fornia. The following account of the 
 scenes and circumstances attending the 
 embarkation of re-enforcements from San 
 Francisco, to join Walker at Nicaragua, on 
 the occasion already alluded to, will show 
 that there was no lack of enthusiasm for 
 his cause, at least in certain sections. 
 
 The vessel (to convey the above-named 
 re-enforcements) was advertised to sail at 
 nine o'clock in the morning, but long be- 
 fore that hour the wharf was crowded with 
 spectators and those interested in the suc- 
 cess of the expeditionists. Nearly four 
 hundred through passage tickets were sold 
 before the appointed sailing hour, and 
 officers were stationed in every part of 
 the vessel, with positive orders to allow 
 no one on board unless provided with a 
 passage ticket. There seemed to be no 
 disposition to infringe this order, and 
 everything went on quietly until about 
 noon, when it was discovered that some of 
 the passengers were in possession of arms 
 belonging to the San Francisco Blues' mil- 
 itary corps. A search-warrant was imme- 
 diately procured, and twenty-nine muskets, 
 identified by members of the company 
 named, were recovered. During this in- 
 vestigation, two large crockery crates, full 
 of arms, were discovered, and which proved 
 to have been taken from the armory of the 
 Sacramento Rifle Company. General Kib- 
 bee, of the state militia, being notified of 
 the fact, at once instituted legal proceed- 
 ings to recover the arms, but before the 
 necessary documents could be procured 
 and placed in the sheriff's hands, the hour 
 — already extended to four o'clock in the 
 afternoon — for the sailing of the steamer 
 had arrived. As the lines holding the 
 vessel to the whai'f were cast adrift, there 
 was some indication of trouble between the 
 officers of the vessel and those persons on 
 the wharf anxious to obtain passage. The 
 
752 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1S76. 
 
 wharf was densely packed with men, and 
 at the first move of the steamer's j^addles, 
 a general rush was made to board her. 
 The officers of the boat resisted, and the 
 body of the crowd was driven back, at the 
 imminent risk of their being crushed 
 between the vessel and the wharf, or 
 launched overboard. About fifteen or 
 twenty succeeded in getting on board, 
 during this frightful scene, and tlie vessel 
 shot out into the stream, where she came 
 to, evidently with the view of compelling 
 
 when she was ordered to keep off, and at 
 the same time the steamer commenced 
 moving ahead. It was now beyond the 
 power of the schooner to work up to the 
 position of the steamer until the latter 
 would have sufficient time to send the 
 intruders ashore and get under way again. 
 Still the schooner persevered, and stood off 
 for another tack. In the meantime, a 
 posse of sheriff's officers, headed by J\[r. 
 Dowdigan, with the writ of restitution, 
 had procured a row-boat for the purpose of 
 
 LANDING OF GKXEUAL WALKER'S FILLIBCSTF.niNO EXPEDITION AT TRUXILLO. 
 
 those to return on shore who had suc- 
 ceeded in boarding the vessel by force. 
 By this time, the expeditionists, to the 
 number of three hundred, had chartered a 
 large schooner lying convenient to the 
 wharf. This movement was seen on board 
 the steamer, and as the schooner spread 
 her canvas, the steamer's ])iiddlos were 
 again put in motion ; but she had not pro- 
 ceeded far when she again lay-to. The 
 schooner was now under full hendwny with 
 a fine breeze, and, tacking r^uichly, she 
 came up under the lee of the steamer, 
 
 boarding the steamer. This they were 
 unable to accompli>li, as the steamer got 
 under wa}^ just as the sheriff's boat reached 
 her side, and was soon under full head of 
 steam, with her bows directed seaward. 
 The rchooner landed the disappointed 
 expeditionists at the wharf; and a large 
 number of ships' launches and other small 
 craft, filled with men who evidently in- 
 tended to take the first opi)ortunity to 
 Itoard the steamer, put back to the shore. 
 It seemed to be the universal im])res8ion 
 that the schooner's load would be per- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORAIJLE EVENTS. 
 
 •753 
 
 mitted to board, as it was rumored tliat 
 they had by some means obtained pas- 
 sa<Te tickets just as the steamer left the 
 wliarf. This, however, proved erroneous. 
 Among the number who attempted to 
 board in small boats, was a man named 
 Henry Gray, who strenuously persisted 
 in his endeavors to get on board the 
 steamer, although forcibly resisted by 
 the officer. At last. Gray drew a revolver 
 and pointed it at the officer, who also 
 drew his pistol, when the boatmen in 
 the boat with Gray covered his person 
 with their own. 
 
 In New York cit}'^, a mass meeting was 
 held, at which the warmest speeches and 
 resolutions of sympathy for Walker and 
 his movements were indulged in. Even 
 General Cass lent the scheme his warm 
 support. " I am free to confess," he said, 
 " that the heroic effort of our countrymen 
 in Nicaragua excites my admiration, while 
 it engages all my solicitude. I am not to 
 be deterred from the expression of these 
 feelings by sneers, or reproaches, or hard 
 words. He who does not sympathize with 
 such an enterprise has little in common 
 with me. The difficulties which General 
 Walker has encountered and overcome will 
 place his name high on the roll of the dis- 
 tinguished men of his age. He has con- 
 ciliated the people he went to aid, the 
 government of which he makes part is 
 performing its functions without opposi- 
 tion, and internal tranquillity marks the 
 wisdom of its policy. That magnificent 
 region, for which God has done so much 
 and man so little, needed some renovating 
 process, some transfusion, by which new 
 life may be imparted to it." That some, 
 at least, of the views thus so enthusiasti- 
 cally expressed by the venerable statesman, 
 failed of fulfillment, must be attributed to 
 Walker's own injudicious acts, in the con- 
 demnation of which none were more em- 
 phatic than some of those who stood by his 
 side and shared his fortunes. 
 
 But, as already remarked, Walker's ca- 
 reer came to a speedy and inglorious ter- 
 mination when he undertook to plant 1 U 
 standard of usurpation at Honduras. It 
 48 
 
 was in June, 1860, that he first landed at 
 Ruatan, but finding things there not in a 
 very favorable position for the success of 
 his movements, he proceeded to Truxillo, 
 in the taking of wdiich place he had three 
 men wounded, while the loss on the other 
 side was twelve killed and eighteen 
 wounded, the determination of the in- 
 habitants to resist and defeat Walker's 
 schemes being very resolute. 
 
 A proclamation was now issued by 
 Walker to the people of Honduras, in 
 which he said, that, more than five years 
 ago, he, with others, was invited to the 
 republic of Nicaragua, and was promised 
 certain rights and privileges on the condi- 
 tion of certain services rendered the state ; 
 that the services required were performed, 
 liut the existing authorities of Honduras 
 joined a combination to drive him from 
 Central America. " In the course of 
 events," continues W^alker, "the people of 
 the Bay Islands find themselves in nearly 
 the same position the Americans held in 
 Nicaragua, in November 1855. The same 
 policy which led Guardiola to make war on 
 us will induce him to drive the people of 
 the islands from Honduras. A knowledge 
 of this fact has led certain residents of the 
 islands to call on the adopted citizens of 
 Nicaragua to aid in the maintenance of 
 their rights of person and jiroperty ; but 
 no sooner had a few adopted citizens of 
 Nicaragua answered this call of the resi- 
 dents of the islands by repairing to Ruatan, 
 than the acting authorities of Honduras, 
 alarmed for their safety, put obstacles in 
 the way of carrying out the treaty of the 
 28th November, 1859. Guardiola delays 
 to receive the islands because of the pres- 
 ence of a few' men he has injured ; and 
 thus, for party purposes, not only defeats 
 the territorial interests of Honduras, but 
 thwarts, for the moment, a cardinal object 
 of Central American policy. The people 
 of the Bay Islands can be engrafted on 
 your republic only by wise concessions 
 properly made. The existing authorities 
 of Honduras have, by their past acts, given 
 proof that the}' would not make the requi- 
 site concessions. The same policy which 
 
754 
 
 OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Guard iola pursued toward the naturalized 
 Nicaraguans prevents him from pursuing 
 the only course by which Honduras can 
 expect to hold the islands. It becomes, 
 therefore, a common object with the natu- 
 ralized Nicaraguans, and with the people 
 of the Bay Islands, to place in the govern- 
 ment of Honduras those who will yield the 
 rights lawfully required in the two states. 
 Thus the Nicaraguans will secure a return 
 to their adopted countrj^, and the Bay 
 Islanders will obtain full guaranties from 
 the sovereignty under which they are to 
 be placed by the treaty of the 28tli No- 
 vember, 1859." General Walker con- 
 cludes this proclamation by assuring the 
 people of Honduras, that it is not against 
 them, but against the government, that he 
 had come to make wai*. 
 
 Some of the representations made in 
 Walker's proclamation will be better com- 
 prehended when it is understood that, at 
 that time, Great Britain was just ceding to 
 Honduras the Bay Islands ; but some of 
 the Anglo-Saxon residents of those islands 
 objected strongly to such cession. Walker 
 availed himself of this state of things to 
 carry out his scheme of conquest, but, 
 aware of his plans, Honduras requested 
 Great Britain to retain her hold upon the 
 islands a while longer. 
 
 It was not long before Walker had to 
 confront an army of seven hundred men, 
 headed by the governor of Honduras, and 
 an English man-of-war lay near by with 
 hostile intent. On the first of September 
 therefore. Walker retreated from Truxillo, 
 and retired lower down the coast with 
 about eighty men, the Honduras troops 
 being in close pursuit. After wandering 
 down the coast. Walker finally encamped 
 on the bank of the Rio Negro. 
 
 On the third of September, two British 
 cutters, carrying forty men, went up the 
 river ; and Captain Salmon, of the British 
 man-of-war Icarus, accompanied by Gen- 
 eral Alvarez, of the Honduran army, went 
 ashore and walked to the house in which 
 General Walker was, and asked an inter- 
 view with him, which was granted. Cap- 
 tain Salmon — a burly, bluff young British 
 
 officer, of a very pompous and authoritative 
 manner, — introduced himself to General 
 Walker, informed him that Her Majesty's 
 sloop-of-war Icarus lay off the mouth of the 
 river, and that anchored near her was a 
 ship which had on board two hundred and 
 fifty Honduran soldiers ; and he thereupon 
 demanded the surrender of Walker and his 
 command. 
 
 General Walker, with characteristic cool- 
 ness and dignity, contrasting strongly 
 with the self-assurance of the British offi- 
 cer, asked whether this demand was made 
 by Captain Salmon as a British officer, and 
 whether, if he surrendered, it would be to 
 the British authorities ? To this inquiry 
 Major Dolan and Captain West, who were 
 present at the interview, solenmly asserted 
 that Salmon replied, " Yes, you surrender 
 to me, as a British officer." The question 
 was repeated by Walker, and the same 
 answer given by Salmon, who rather 
 haughtily and patronizingly added, " You 
 may thank me, too, that you have a who'e 
 hone in your hodyP The general then told 
 them that under these circumstances he 
 would surrender. 
 
 On the fourth, — General Walker and 
 Colonel Rudler having been taken, the 
 night before, under a guard, to the Icarus, 
 — the sloop-of-war weighed anchor and 
 steamed up to Truxillo, where she arrived 
 that night. Walker and Rudler were then 
 formally delivered over to the Honduran 
 authorities. 
 
 The march of the captured men to pi-ison 
 was slow and solemn. Walker, at the 
 head of his men, and dressed with much 
 simplicity, marched, keei^ing time to the 
 beat of the drum, and was the object upon 
 which every e^'e was fixed. As soon as 
 he entered the prison, he was placed in 
 heavy irons, and being asked if he needed 
 anything, replied with but one word — 
 '* Water." Soon afterward, he sent for a 
 chaplain, and, declaring his faith as a 
 Roman Catholic, knelt at the feet of the 
 priest, in front of a small altar, on which 
 the glimmering light of some candles 
 faintlj' revealed an image of the Savior. 
 Among other things he said to the chap- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 755 
 
 lain, was the remark, " I am resigned to 
 die ; my political career is finished." 
 
 On the eleventh, at seven o'clock in the 
 morning, Walker was informed that the 
 sentence of death had heen passed upon 
 liim b}' the court-martial; his only reply 
 to the fatal messenger was his asking at 
 what hour he would be executed, and if he 
 should have time to write. On the twelfth, 
 at eight o'clock in the morning, the con- 
 demned man was marched to the place of 
 execution. He showed, throughout, the 
 greatest coolness, not even once changing 
 color, while walking from the prison to 
 the plaza where he was to be shot. Two 
 soldiers, with drawn swords, advanced in 
 front of him, and three, with fixed bayo- 
 nets, followed behind. In his right hand 
 he carried a hat, and in his left a crucifix, 
 without looking at any one, and listening 
 to the devotional passages which the priest 
 was reciting to him. He entered the 
 square, where, at the place of execution, 
 the troops were drawn up, and there, before 
 taking the fatal seat, he requested the 
 
 priest in attendance, inasmuch as he him- 
 self could not sjieak loud enough to be 
 heard, to say : 
 
 "I am a Roman Catholic. The war 
 wliich I made on Honduras, at the sugges- 
 tion of certain people at Ruatan, was un- 
 just. Those who accompanied me are not 
 to blame. I alone am guilty. I ask par- 
 don of the people. I receive death with 
 resignation. Would that it were one for 
 the good of society." 
 
 He then sat down. A file of ten sol- 
 diers advanced, and fired on the instant. 
 He died at once. The soldiers gave three 
 cheers, and all was over. 
 
 Walker was but thirty-six years of age, 
 at the time of his death. In personal 
 appearance, he showed little of the type of 
 a daring and capable fillibuster, being 
 rather below the middle size, slender, with 
 light hair, keen gray eyes, high cheek 
 bones, — a man of exceedingly quiet de- 
 meanor, slow in speech, and of a mild 
 expression of face. His energy, persever- 
 ance, and courage, were undoubted. 
 
LXXXVIII. 
 
 TOUR OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, ALBERT EDWARD, 
 PRINCE OF WALES, THROUGH THE UNITED 
 
 STATES.— 1860. 
 
 Frienillj Letters between President Buchanan and Queen Victoria on the Subject. — The Prince's First 
 Entrance into American Waters. — Unbounded Hospitalities Extended Him. — Hunting Excursions, 
 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 Him. — His Way Completely Blocked Up. — On a Hunt: 
 Fine Sportsman. — Receptions at Various Cities. — Locomotive Ride to Washington. — Guest of Presi- 
 dent Buclianan. — Courtesies and Ceremonials — Visit to Mount Vernon. — At the Tomb of Washing- 
 ton. — Unparalleled Historical Scene — He Plants a Tree at tiie Grave — Rare Scenes in Philadelphia. 
 — New York and Boston Festivities — Present from Trinity Church, New Voik. — Greatest Balls Ever 
 Known. — He Meets a Hunker Hill Veteran. — Impressions of America — Incidents, Anecdotes, Inter- 
 views. — His Looks, Manners, Dress, etc. — Brilliant Farewell at Portland. 
 
 '■ To'i itiny he we'l nssiired that cvorvwhce in this country he will be greeted by the American people in such a manner as cannot fail to 
 be gratifjing to yuur .M ije~t.v."— Pkksidk.n r Ulciia.na.n ro QUKii.N Viciouia. 
 
 R. Buchanan's closing presidential A'car was ren- 
 dered memorable by 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 hing who waged 
 against America the wars of 177G 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, — 
 I and destined, on the death of the latter, to be 
 Kino: of the Briti.sh realm. President Bu- 
 chanan, having been informed of the Prince's 
 intention to make a Canadian tour, addressed 
 ■inii pui.Nci; oi.- WALKS AT wA.sMiNGToN's ToMu. thc followlug Icttcr to tliB Queeu, whicH was 
 presented by Mr. Dallas, United States Minister at the Court of St. James : 
 "To HEu Majesty, Queen Victoria: 
 I have learned, from the public journals, that tlie Prince of Wales is about to visit 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 757 
 
 your Majesty's North American domin- 
 ions. Should it be the intention of His 
 Royal Highness to extend his visit to the 
 United States, I need not say how happy 
 I sliould be to give him a cordial welcome 
 to Washington. 
 
 You may be well assured that every- 
 wliere in this country he will be greeted 
 by the American peojde in such manner 
 as cannot fail to prove gratifj'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 foregoing 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 Good FRiEyD: 
 
 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 royal 
 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 R." 
 
 It was on the 23d of July, 1860, that 
 the prince arrived at St. Johns, N. F., 
 and, after journe^ang 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 Reiifreiv, ive luelcome you to 
 the United States, tnisting that your visit 
 may he a happy one — that you may long 
 remember it ivith pleasure aiul 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. 
 Cheer 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 roysX 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. 
 
758 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 — 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 finely. 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 
 originally 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- 
 ghanies, 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 759 
 
 of the country to the other. Suffice it to 
 say, in brief, that at AVasliingtou lie 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 
 part}'. On Thursday, October 4th, 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 rebal general, 
 one who, though once j^ronounced 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 
 that could be desired, one of October's 
 finest. The prince and his suite, accom- 
 panied b}' President Buchanan and other 
 eminent persons, wont 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 
 he 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 party 
 then 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 royal part}^, 
 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 
 Math 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 
 usual agility, and, to avoid the crowd, 
 rushed for the stairs, and into the arms of 
 the superintendent of order, who, presum- 
 
'GO 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 irig him to be an interloper, stopped liim, 
 and would not allow him to pass. In vain 
 the prince struggled and kicked. The 
 superintendent kejjt fast hold of the "in- 
 truder," until Mayor Henry ruslied 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 sw^armed in large 
 numbers to the Continental, to inspect the 
 prince's splendid apartments, to sit Avhere 
 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, luing 
 around the door of his apartments, and 
 touched him curiously as he slipped past. 
 
 The principal receptions of the prince, 
 after his departure from Phi]adel})hia, were 
 at New York, "West Point, and Boston ; 
 but no account of these receptions, sliort 
 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 churcli, 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 wero depos- 
 ited, the one a small octavo size, tlie other 
 a half-quarto. The}- were both got u[) 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 
 
 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 ere me 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 Imndred and thirtj'-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 ro^^al 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 Avas especially erected 
 for the occasion, and its length was one 
 hundred and forty-four feet, by twenty- 
 eight feet breadth. The entire vast a])art- 
 ment Avas 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 disjjla}'. 
 
GKAND BALL GIVEN TO THE 
 
 All along the snpper-rooni wore two tables, 
 gorgeous in all the appointments of gold, 
 silver, and china ware, and the feast was 
 magnifieent. 
 
 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 young a man, could not be expected to 
 niu.vf an extemporaneous speech, and eti- 
 quette forbade any one speaking as his 
 substitute. 
 
 Prom 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 
 was occupied by a detachment of dragoons. 
 
 PRINCE OF WALES, IN BOSTON. 
 
 In a few minutes after the formation of 
 the line, the prince and suite, with Lien- 
 tenant-General Scott, appeared on the 
 parade ground, when Major Rej^nolds gave 
 the order to "Prepare for Review." The 
 ranks of the troops were opened, the artil- 
 lery unlimbered, the officers and colors to 
 the front, when the reviewing party 
 marched to the head of the military col- 
 umn, Avhile the band i)layed the air of 
 God Save the Queen. As the prince and 
 escort passed down the military line, the 
 band played the very elegant air of the 
 Flowers of Edinburgh. 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 prince pro- 
 
762 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1876. 
 
 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 Avas 
 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 with 
 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 
 jjrince entered, the whole company rose, 
 and the masses of children Avaved handker- 
 chiefs and clapped hands, jjroducing 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 thea- 
 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, purple, 
 and azure; the frescoed ceiling, with its 
 pendant dome of light, the marquee, with its 
 groA^es, flowers, mirrors, arabesque ceiling, 
 its multiform and varied decorations, and 
 its vicAv of Windsor Castle, seen as if from 
 some immense Avindow ; — if one can imag- 
 ine this scene, and then crowd it Avith 
 richly dressed ladies, Avith 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, 
 SAveet swell of the music bearing Avith it 
 the graceful moving throng in a bcAvilder- 
 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 Ncav York ; 
 for all the committees, being anxious to 
 speak to the prince, and leaning forAvard 
 to do so, crash went a large vase of floAvers, 
 scattering its contents over the prince. 
 There Avere profuse apologies, but the 
 prince Avas laughing so heartily, that he 
 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 Avith the o/d 
 chaps in Canada." At Montreal, he 
 
GREAT AND ^lEMOliABLE EVENTS. 
 
 763 
 
 danced with Miss Blackburn, of Natchez, 
 a lady of great beauty ; so enchanted did 
 the prince become, that he afterward in- 
 quired for her and expressed a desire to 
 meet again. Among those with whom he 
 danced, at the Cincinnati ball, was the 
 beautiful Miss Groesbeck, daughter of 
 Hon. John Groesbeck. The reporters 
 represent that Miss Groesbeck, who was 
 the belle of the evening, wore a wliite 
 tulle dress, puffed to the waist, low neck, 
 but wore no jewelry ; her mother, however, 
 wore elegant diamond ear-drops, rings, and 
 pins. When, therefore, one of the officers 
 of the evening announced to Miss Groes- 
 beck that she was to be honored with the 
 prince's hand for the second dance, Mrs. 
 Groesbeck quietly took off her own jewelry 
 and passed them to her favored daughter ; 
 the latter declined them. Her mother 
 insisted; but Miss Groesbeck, with equal 
 determination, positively refused to wear 
 any kind of ornament other than her sim- 
 ple dress and the wealth of beauty which 
 Nature had bestowed on her. 
 
 It is not exaggerating, to say that the 
 prince made an agreeable impression 
 wherever he went. He was described by 
 one of the newspaper reporters, as follows : 
 "He seems to be about five feet four inches 
 high; his eye is beautifully blue, mild, 
 funny, clear, and jolly ; his nose is well 
 defined, not perfectly straight, but clean- 
 cut and prominent ; his mouth is full, and 
 his chin retreats wonderfully. His coun- 
 tenance indicates a happy dispositioned, 
 good-natured, humorous, fun-loving boy, 
 who knows what he is about, and can't 
 easily be fooled. His hair is soft and fine, 
 though disposed to grow rather low down 
 the neck and on the forehead, whilst his 
 head is well shaped, and would indicate 
 firmness, benevolence, quickness of percep- 
 tion, and love of music. The very, very 
 large hands and feet of the young gentle- 
 man are but reproductions of those of his 
 
 royal mother, to whom Dame Nature has 
 been very generous in that regard. His 
 form is small and very well proportioned, 
 and his bearing is dignified, manly, and 
 modest." His dress varied much, of 
 course, with the place and occasion, but 
 was always simple, elegant, and appro- 
 priate. 
 
 Portland, Me., was the place from which 
 the illustrious guest of the nation took his 
 departure for England. As the royal 
 barge left the wharf to convey the prince 
 to the Hero, the British squadron all fired 
 a royal salute of twenty-one guns, and sim- 
 ilar salutes were fired from the city and 
 from Fort Preble. The harbor was full of 
 steamers, sail-boats, barges, etc., w-hich 
 accompanied the royal barge from the 
 wharf. As the flotilla neared the royal 
 squadron, the yards were manned, and this, 
 with the strings of bunting and flags flying 
 from every point of the fleet, formed a 
 magnificent spectacle, which was witnessed 
 by an immense concourse of people. To 
 all the parting salutations, the British 
 ships responded by dipping their colors ; 
 and, as the squadron sailed, the bands on 
 board each vessel played Yankee Doodle, 
 and Fort Preble saluted the party with 
 farewell guns as they passed. 
 
 So heart-felt, generous, and enthusiastic 
 a reception of the prince, in America, pro- 
 duced the highest satisfaction throughout 
 England. The queen, at an early day, 
 caused to be officially communicated to the 
 president and to the people of the United 
 States, "her grateful sense of the kindness 
 with which they received her son ; " the 
 hospitality shown him was warmly com- 
 plimented in parliament; and Prince Al- 
 bert, as chancellor of the University of 
 Cambridge, directed that the annual gold 
 medal there given for the encouragement 
 of English poetry, should, that year, be 
 awarded for the best poem on " The Prince 
 of Wales at the Tomb of Washington." 
 
LXXXIX. 
 
 BOMBARDMENT AND REDUCTION OF FORT SUM- 
 TER.— 1861. 
 
 Inauguration of Civil War in the United States. — First Military Act in the Long and Bloody Struggle 
 to Dismember the Union. — Organization of tiie Southern Confederacy. — President Lincoln's Procla- 
 mation for 75,000 Volunteers — Spontaneous Uprising of the Loyal People — Calling tlie Battle-Holl 
 of tiie Kepublic. — Supreme Crisis in the Fate of the Nation. — Northern and Southern Variances. — Slav- 
 ery the Cause of Contention. — Culmination of the Antagonism. — Disunion the Banner of tlie South. 
 — Secession of Several States. — War Wager Boldly Staked — Vain Efforts at Reconciliation. — Federal 
 Property Seized at the South. — Batteries Erected at Charleston. — Fort Sumter Closely Besieged. 
 — Beauregard Demands 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 the Attack, April 14th — Incessant and Tremendous Fire — Terms of Evacuation Accepted. 
 — Southern Rejoicings.— The Great Military Outlook — Washington the National Key. 
 
 " Con either of yon to-day name one single act of wrong, deliberatelv and purposely done by the povemment et Washinptnn, of vtiich 
 ffie Soutli has a right to complain ? 1 challen^je an auower."— IIo.v. ALE.i. U. STErnENS, BBFOKE tub Georgia Secession Comtiw- 
 
 IION. 
 
 ^^IGHTY-EOUR years had now 
 ^if^^ sped their course, since the 
 repuhlic of the United States, 
 with the immortal DecLara- 
 tion of Independence as its Magna Char- 
 ta of sovereignty, took a place among 
 the governments of the earth as a free 
 and independent nation, and, during all 
 that long period, the federal armies had 
 been called to face — with hut an occa- 
 sional local and transient exception — 
 only external or savage foes. Party 
 
 FLAG OF FORT SUMTKK.AFXKK THE BOMBAUDMEKT. ^^.\^^ j^ j^ ^^.^^^^ J^^^^ ^^^^ UufreqUently 
 
 ran high, and hurled defiance at law and its administrators, and at times, the strain 
 upon tlie ship of state seemed near to proving its destruction ; hut forbearance, com- 
 promise, fraternity and patriotism, smoothed the rough waves of contention, and peace 
 regained her benign sway. 
 
 But the long existing and bitter antagonism of opinion on the subject of slavery, 
 between the North and the South, culminated at last— on the inauguration of Mr. 
 Lincoln as president, in 1801, — in a civil war, the extent, duration, and horrors of 
 which have never been paralleled in any age or among any people, since the world 
 
GREAT AKD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 •Go 
 
 began. In vain did President Lincoln de- 
 clare, in liis inangural, his opposition to 
 any interference with slavery in the states 
 where it existed, in vain were assurances 
 to the same effect proffered by the party 
 that had just triumphed in the presiden- 
 tial contest, and in vain were conferences 
 and consultations held by the leading 
 statesmen and politicians of different sec- 
 tions, with a view to avert the calamity of 
 war. 
 
 Intent on a separate national existence, 
 under which they might maintain unmo- 
 lested, as well as extend, the institution of 
 slavery, the southern states recalled their 
 senators and representatives from congress, 
 flung out the banner of Secession — whi'th 
 was the wager and signal of War, — and, 
 as an initial step, commenced the seizure 
 of United States custom-houses, arsenals, 
 forts, and other public property', within 
 their borders. 
 
 First in order of importance, in this 
 startling programme of overt acts, was the 
 movement of the authorities of South Cai- 
 oiina to possess themselves of Fort Sum- 
 ter, in Charleston harbor, before opportu- 
 nity should be gained by the national 
 government to re-enforce its scanty re- 
 sources of men and provisions. To this 
 end, extensive batteries were erected on 
 the shores opposite the fort, by means of 
 which, any ordinary naval force which the 
 federal authorities then had available for 
 conveying supplies, could easily be crippled 
 in attempting such assistance. 
 
 In this besieged condition, the brave 
 and loyal commander of the fort, INIajor 
 Robert Anderson, and his true-hearted 
 men, were kept for several weeks, with the 
 eager eyes of millions of admiring coun- 
 trymen riveted upon them. The vessel 
 which was finally dis2:)atched by the navy 
 department for their relief, was shelled by 
 the batteries and compelled to return 
 without fulfilling her mission. This was 
 done in accordance with the orders received 
 from the secession authorities at Mont- 
 gomery, Ala., where a government styled 
 the Confederate States of America had 
 been formally established, with Jefferson 
 
 Davis as president, and which was to as- 
 sume all the responsibility and direction 
 of that mighty struggle through which, as 
 they expected, southern independence was 
 to be secured, and the Republic of the 
 United States rent in twain. 
 
 After various official preliminaries, on 
 either side, but without arriving at any 
 satisfactory understanding, a demand was 
 made, April 11th, by General Beauregard, 
 commander of the insurgent batteries, for 
 the surrender of the fort. This demand 
 was declined by Major Anderson — all the 
 officers having been consulted by him in 
 regard to the summons. At about three 
 o'clock, on the morning of the 12th, notice 
 was given that fire would be opened on the 
 fort in one hour, unless the demand to 
 siirrender was instantly complied with. 
 IMajor Anderson resolved not to return fire 
 until broad daylight, not wishing to waste 
 any of his ammunition. From the state- 
 ments made by the officers of Fort Sumter, 
 it appears that fire was opened upon the 
 fort from all points at once, and, to the 
 astonishment of its defenders, a masked 
 battery of heavy columbiads opened on 
 them from that part of Sullivan's Island 
 near the floating battery, of the existence 
 of which Major Anderson had not the 
 slightest intimation. It was covered with 
 brush and other materials, which com- 
 pletely concealed it, and was skillfully con- 
 structed and well secured. Seventeen 
 mortars, firing ten-inch shell, and thirty- 
 three heavy guns, mostly columbiads, were 
 engaged in the assault. The crash made 
 by the shot against the walls was terrific, 
 and many of the shells took effect inside 
 the fort. The inmates took breakfast at 
 half-past six o'clock, leisurely and calmly, 
 after which the command was formed into 
 three reliefs, equally dividing the officer? 
 and men. The first relief was under the 
 command of Captain Doubleda}', of the 
 artillery, and Lieutenant Snyder, of the 
 engineer corps. This detachment went to 
 the guns and opened fire upon the Cum- 
 mings's Point battery, Fort Moultrie, and 
 Sullivan's Island. The Iron Battery was 
 of immense strength, so that most of the 
 
706 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 shots from Fort Sumter struck and glanced 
 off again. The fire was so terrible on the 
 parapet of Fort Sumter, that Major Ander- 
 son refused to allow the men to man the 
 guns. Had they been permitted to do so, 
 every one of them would have been sacri- 
 ficed. Fort Moultrie was considerably 
 damaged by the cannonading from Fort 
 Sumter, a great many shots having tahen 
 effect on the embrasures. A new English 
 rifled gun, which was employed by the 
 insurgents, was fired with great accuracy, 
 several of its shots entering the embra- 
 sures of Fort Sumter, and one of them 
 slightly wounded four men. 
 
 The reliefs were changed every four 
 hours, and the men owed their safety to 
 the extraordinary care exercised by the 
 officers in command. A man was kept 
 constantly on the look-out, who would cry 
 ' shot,' or ' shell,' at every shot the enemy 
 made, thus affording the men exposed 
 ample opportunity for shelter. The gar- 
 rison was lamentably weak in numbers ; 
 but the workmen, though at first rather 
 reluctant to assist the soldiers in handling 
 the guns, gradually took hold and rendered 
 valuable assistance. Indeed, but few shots 
 were fired before every one of them be- 
 came desperately engaged in the conflict. 
 They had to abandon one gun, on account 
 of the close fire made upon it. Hearing 
 the fire renewed with it, however, an offi- 
 cer went to the spot, and there found a 
 party of workmen still employed in serving 
 it. One of the workmen was stooping 
 
 over it with his hands on his knees, con- 
 vulsed with joy, with the tears rolling 
 down his powder-begrimmed cheeks. 
 "What are you doing here with that 
 gun?" the officer asked. ''Hit it right 
 in the center,'' was the reply, — the man 
 meaning that his shot had taken effect in 
 the center of the floating battery. 
 
 The aim of the insurgents was particu- 
 larly directed at the flag-staff, from which 
 Avaved jiroudly the stars and stripes ; and, 
 after two days' incessant firing, the flag- 
 staff was finally shot away. The effect 
 of such continuous firing was terribly 
 damaging. " One tower," says one of 
 the garrison, " was so completely de- 
 molished that not one brick was left 
 standing upon the other. The barracks 
 caught fire on the first day several times, 
 but in every instance was put out by Mr. 
 Hart, of New York, a volunteer, who par- 
 ticularly distinguished himself for his 
 coolness and bravery. On the second day, 
 the barracks caught fire from a ten-inch 
 shell, and the danger to be encountered in 
 the attempt to extinguish it being so great, 
 the major concluded not to attempt it. 
 The effect of the fire was more disastrous 
 that we could have supposed. The subse- 
 quent shots of the enemy took more effect 
 in consequence ; the walls were weakened, 
 and we were more exposed. The main 
 gates were destroj-ed by fire, thus leaving 
 us exposed to the murderous aim of the 
 enemy. Five hundred men could have 
 formed on the gorge, and marched on us 
 without our being able to ojipose them. 
 The fire spread around the fort on all sides. 
 Fearful that the walls might crack, and 
 the shells pierce and prostrate them, we 
 commenced taking the powder out of the 
 magazine before the fire had fully envel- 
 oped it. We took ninety-six barrels of 
 powder out, and threw them into the sea, 
 leaving two hundred barrels in. Owing 
 to a lack of cartridges, we kept five men 
 inside the magazine, to sew them up as we 
 wanted them, thus consuming our shirts, 
 sheets, blankets, and all the available ma- 
 terial in the fort. When we were finally 
 obliged to close the magazine, and our 
 
GllEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 '07 
 
 material for cartridges was exhausted, we 
 were left destitute of any means to con- 
 tinue the contest. We had eaten our last 
 biscuit thirty-six hours before. We were 
 very nearly stifled with the dense smoke 
 from the burning buildings. The men lay 
 prostrate on the ground, with wet hand- 
 kerchiefs over their mouths and eyes, gasp- 
 ing for breath. It was a moment of immi- 
 nent peril. If an eddy of wind had not 
 ensued, we all, probabl}^, would have been 
 suffocated. The crashing of the shot, the 
 bursting of the shells, the falling of walls, 
 and the roar of the flames, made a Pande- 
 monium of the fort. We nevertheless 
 kept up a steady fire. Early in the after- 
 noon of the 13th, ex-senator Wigfall, of 
 Texas, — who had become an officer in the 
 Confederate militarj'' service, — seeing the 
 inequality of the contest, made his appear- 
 ance at one of the embrasures with a white 
 handkerchief on the end of a sword, and 
 begged for admittance. He asked to see 
 Major Anderson. While Wigfall was in 
 the act of crawling through the embrasure, 
 Lieutenant Snyder called out to him, 
 "Major Anderson is at the main gate." 
 He passed through the embrasure into the 
 casement, paying no attention to what the 
 lieutenant had said. Here he was met 
 by Captain Foster and Lieutenants Mead 
 and Davis. In an excited manner he 
 said — 
 
 " Let us stop this firing. You are on 
 fire, and your flag is down. Let us quit." 
 
 "No, sir," replied Lieutenant Davis, 
 "our flag is not down. Step out here, and 
 you will see it waving over the ramparts." 
 
 " Let us quit this," said Wigfall ; 
 " here's a white flag — will anybody wave 
 it out of the embrasure ? " 
 
 " That is for you to do, if you choose," 
 replied one of the officers. 
 
 " If there is no one else to do it, I will," 
 said Wigfall. 
 
 He immediately jumped into the em- 
 brasure, and waved the flag towards Fort 
 Moultrie. The firing, however, still con- 
 tinued from Moultrie and the batteries of 
 Sullivan's Island. In answer to his re- 
 peated request, one of the officers said 
 
 that one of Sumter's men might hold the 
 flag, and Corporal Binghurst jum])ed into 
 the embrasure. The shot continuing to 
 strike all around him, he leaped down 
 again, after having Avaved the flag a few 
 moments, and exclaimed — 
 
 "They don't respect this flag; they are 
 firing at it." 
 
 "They fired at me two or three times," 
 replied Wigfall, "and I stood it, and I 
 should think you might stand it once. If 
 you will show a white flag from your ram- 
 parts, they will cease firing." 
 
 "If you request," said Lieutenant Da- 
 vis, "that a flag shall be shown there, 
 while you hold a conference with Major 
 Anderson, and for that purpose alone, it 
 may be done." 
 
 At this point Major Anderson came up. 
 Wigfall said, " I am General Wigfall, and 
 come from General Beauregard, who 
 wishes to stop this." 
 
 Major Anderson, rising to his full 
 height, replied, " Well, sir ! " 
 
 "Major Anderson," exclaimed Wigfall, 
 "you have defended j^our flag nobly, sir. 
 You have done all that it is possible for 
 men to do, and General Beauregard wishes 
 to stop the fight. On what terms. Major 
 Anderson, will you evacuate this fort ? " 
 
 " General Beauregard is already ac- 
 quainted with my oidy terms," was Major 
 Anderson's reply. 
 
 "Do I understand that you will evacuate 
 upon the terms proposed the other day ? " 
 inquired Wigfall. 
 
 " Yes, sir, and on those conditions only," 
 
 "Then, sir," said Wigfall, "I under- 
 stand that the fort is to be ours." 
 
 " On these conditions onlj', I repeat." 
 
 " Very well," said W^igfall, and he re- 
 tired. 
 
 A short time afterwards, a deputation, 
 consisting of Senator Chesnut, Roger A. 
 Pryor, Capt. S. D, Lee, and W. Porcher 
 Miles, came from General Beauregard and 
 had an interview with Major Anderson, 
 when it came out that Wigfall had no 
 authority to speak for General Beauregard, 
 but acted on his own responsibility. 
 " Then," said Lieutenant Davis, " we have 
 
'68 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 been deceived ; " and Major Anderson, 
 perceiving tlie state of the case, ordered 
 tlie American flag to be raised to its i)lace. 
 The deputation, however, requested liim 
 to keep the flag down until they could 
 communicate with General Beauregard, as 
 matters were liable to be complicated. 
 They left, and, between two and three 
 hours after, the garrison meanwhile exert- 
 ing themselves to extinguish the fire in 
 the barracks, another deputation came 
 from General Beauregard, agreeing to the 
 terms of evacuation previously proposed. 
 Tliis was on Saturday evening. Tliat 
 night tlie garrison took wliat rest they 
 could. Next day, tlie steam-boat Isabel 
 came down and anchored near the fort. 
 
 /i^^:^^^^?>-^i^ 
 
 The steamer Clinch Avas used as a trans- 
 port to take the garrison to tlie Isabel, but 
 tlie transfer was too late to allow the Isa- 
 bel to go out with that tide. The terms 
 of evacuation agreed to were, that the gar- 
 rison should take their individual and 
 company property, and that they should 
 march out with their side and other arms, 
 with all the honors of war, in their own 
 way, and at their own time, and that they 
 should salute their flag and take it with 
 them. 
 
 The insurgents agreed to furnish trans- 
 ports, as Major Anderson might select, to 
 any part of the country, either by land or 
 by water. "When the baggage of the gar- 
 
 rison was all on board of the transport, the 
 soldiers remaining inside under arms, a 
 portion were designated as gunners to 
 serve in saluting the American flng. 
 When the last gun was fired, the flag was 
 lowered, the men cheering. At the fiftieth 
 discharge there was a premature explosion, 
 which killed one man instantly, seriously 
 wounded another, and two more not so 
 badly. The men were then formed and 
 marched out, the band playing " Yankee 
 Doodle " and " Hail to the Chief." 
 
 In regard to the mode of action pursued 
 by Major Anderson, during the bombard- 
 ment, his sagacity was everywhere mani- 
 fest. So small was the number of his 
 men, as to necessitate their division into 
 reliefs, or equal parties, so as to work 
 the different batteries by turns, each 
 four hours. Another account of this 
 terrible scene states that the first relief 
 opened upon the iron batteries at Cum- 
 niings Point, at a distance of sixteen 
 liundred yards, the iron floating bat- 
 tery, distant some eighteen hundred or 
 two thousand yards at the end of Sulli- 
 van's Island, the enfilading battery on 
 Sullivan's Island, and Fort Moultrie, 
 — Captain Doubleday firing the first 
 gun, and all the points just named be- 
 ing opened upon simultaneously. For 
 Q; the first four hours, the firing was kept 
 "^^^j up with great rapidity; the enthusiasm 
 of the men, indeed, was so great that 
 the second and third reliefs could not be 
 kept from the guns. This accounts for 
 the fact that doulde the number of guns 
 were at work xduring the first four hours 
 than at any other time. 
 
 Shells burst with the greatest rapidity 
 in every portion of the work, hurling the 
 loose brick and stone in all directions, 
 breaking the windows, and setting fire to 
 whatever M'ood-work they burst against. 
 The solid shot firing of the enemy's bat- 
 teries, and 2)articularly of Fort IMoultrie, 
 was directed at the barbette guns of Fort 
 Sumter, disabling one ten-inch and one 
 eight-inch columbiad, one forty-two pound- 
 er, and two eight-inch sea-coast howit- 
 zers, and also tearing away a large portion 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 769 
 
 of the parapet. The firing from the bat- 
 teries on Cummings Point was scattered 
 over the whole of the gorge, or rear, of the 
 fort. It looked like a sieve. The explo- 
 sion of shells, and the quantity of deadly 
 missiles hurled in every direction and at 
 every instant of time, made it almost cer- 
 tain death to go out of the lower tier of 
 casements, and also made the working of 
 the barbette, or upper uncovered guns, 
 which contained all the heaviest metals, 
 and by which alone shells could be thrown, 
 quite impossible. During the first day 
 there was hardly an instant of time that 
 there was a cessation of the whizzing of 
 balls, which were sometimes coming half a 
 dozen at once. There Avas not a portion of 
 the work which was not seen in reverse — 
 that is, exposed by the rear — from mor- 
 tars. 
 
 On Friday, before dinner, several of the 
 vessels of the fleet beyond the bar were 
 seen through the port-holes. They dipped 
 their flag. The command ordered Sum- 
 ter's flag to be dipped in return, which 
 was done, while the shells were bursting 
 in every direction. The flagstaff was lo- 
 cated in the open parade, being about the 
 center of the open space within the fort. 
 Sergeant Hart saw the flag half-way down, 
 and, supposing that it had been cut by the 
 enemy's shot, rushed out through the fire 
 to assist in getting it up. Shortly after it 
 had been re-raised, a shell burst and cut 
 the halyards, but the rope was so inter- 
 twined around the halyards, that the flag 
 would not fall. Sergeant Hart also par- 
 ticularly distinguished himself in trying to 
 put out the flames in the quarters, w^ith 
 shells and shot crashing around him; and, 
 though ordered away by Major Anderson, 
 he begged hard to be permitted to remain 
 and continue his exertions. 
 
 One great misfortune was, that there 
 
 was not an instrument in the fort by which 
 
 they could weigh powder, which of course 
 
 destroyed all attempt at accuracy of firing. 
 
 Nor were there any tangent scales, breech 
 
 sides, or other instruments with which to 
 
 point a gun. When it became so dark as 
 
 to render it impossible to see the effect of 
 49 
 
 their shot, the port-holes were closed for 
 the night, while the batteries of the seces- 
 sionists continued their fire the whole 
 night. The firing of the rifled guns from 
 the iron battery on Cummings Point be- 
 came extremely accurate in the afternoon 
 of Frida}^, cutting out large quantities of 
 the masonry about the embrasures at every 
 shot. One piece struck Sergeant Kearnan, 
 an old Mexican war veteran, striking him 
 on the head and knocking him down. 
 Upon being revived, he was asked if he 
 was hurt badly.. He replied, " No ! I was 
 only knocked down temporarily ; " and he 
 went to work again. On Saturday, when 
 the barracks were on fire, the wind so 
 directed the smoke as to fairly fill the fort, 
 so that the men could not see each other, 
 and, with the hot, stifling air, it was as 
 much as a man could do to breathe. Soon 
 they were obliged to cover their faces with 
 wet cloths in order to get along at all, so 
 dense was the smoke and so scorching the 
 heat. But few cartridges were left, and 
 the guns were fired slowly ; nor could more 
 cartridges be made, on account of the 
 sparks falling in every part of the works. 
 A gun was fired every now and then, only 
 to let the people and the fleet in the town 
 know that the fort had not been silenced. 
 The cannoneers could not see to aim, much 
 less where they hit. 
 
 After the barracks were well on fire, the 
 shells and ammunition in the upper ser- 
 vice-magazines exploded, scattering the 
 tower and upper portions of the building 
 in every direction. The crash of the 
 beams, the roar of the flames, the rapid 
 explosion of the shells, and the shower of 
 fragments of the fort, with the blackness 
 of the smoke, made the scene indescriba- 
 bly terrific and grand. This continued for 
 several hours. Meanwhile, the main gates 
 were burned down, the chassis of the bar- 
 bette guns were burned away on the gorge, 
 and the upper portions of the towers had 
 been demolished by shells. There was not 
 a portion of the fort where a breath of air 
 could be got for hours, except through a 
 wet cloth. The fire spread through to the 
 men's quarters, on the right hand and on 
 
770 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 INTERIOR OF FORT SUMTER AFTER THE BOMBARDMENT 
 
 the left, and endangered the powder that 
 had been taken out of the magazines. 
 The men went through the fire and cov- 
 ered the barrels with wet cloths, but the 
 danger of the fort's blowing up became so 
 imminent, that they were obliged to heave 
 the barrels out of the embrasures. While 
 the powder was being thrown overboard, 
 all the guns of Moultrie, of the iron float- 
 ing battery, of the enfilade battery, and 
 the Dalilgren battery, worked with in- 
 creased vigor. 
 
 The interior of Fort Sumter, as seen 
 after the evacuation and described by the 
 newspaper reporters, showed the work that 
 had been done during the bombardment. 
 Every point and every object, to which the 
 eye was turned, except the outer walls and 
 casements, bore the impress of ruin. The 
 walls of the internal structure, roofless, 
 bare, blackened and perforated by shot and 
 shell, hung in fragments, and seemed in 
 instant readiness to totter down. Near 
 the center of the parade ground was the 
 hurried grave of one who had fallen in 
 defense of his country's flag. To the left 
 of the entrance was a man who seemed at 
 the verge of death. In the ruins to the 
 right there was another. The shattered 
 flag-staff, marked by four balls, lay on the 
 
 ground. The jiarado ground was strew:^ 
 with fragments of shell and of the dilapi» 
 dated buildings. At least four guns were 
 dismounted on the ramparts, and at every 
 step the way was impeded by materials ot 
 the broken structure. The whole scene 
 was one of frightful desolation, causing 
 indescribable feelings in every loyal heart. 
 On the 18th of April, Major Anderson, 
 then on his Avay to New York, in the 
 steamship Baltic, penned his official dis- 
 patch to Mr. Cameron, secretary of war, 
 stating that, "having defended Fort Sum- 
 ter for thirty-four hours, until the quar- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 771 
 
 ters were entirely burned, the main gates 
 destroyed by fire, the gorge wall seriously 
 injured, the magazine surrounded by 
 flames, and its door closed from the effects 
 of the heat, four barrels and three car- 
 tridges of powder only being available, 
 and no provisions but pork remaining, I 
 accepted terms of evacuation offered by 
 General Beauregard, being the same of- 
 fered by him on the 11th instant, prior to 
 the commencement of hostilities, and 
 marched out of the fort Sunday afternoon, 
 the 14th instant, with colors flying and 
 drums beating, bringing away company 
 and private property, and saluting my flag 
 ■with fifty guns." Major Anderson and his 
 men received the thanks of the govern- 
 ment for their gallant defense of the fort 
 against such odds. 
 
 As soon as the national flag had ceased 
 to wave over Fort Sumter, the president 
 issued a proclamation for an extra session 
 of congress, to convene July 4th, and also 
 calling for seventy-five thousand men, in 
 order "to maintain the honor, the integ- 
 rity, and existence of our national Union 
 and the perpetuity of popular government, 
 and to redress wrongs already long enough 
 endured." This proclamation was of 
 course spurned and ridiculed by the seven 
 states — South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, 
 Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas 
 — that had formed themselves into the 
 Southern Confederacy ; and, by the other 
 southern states, as also by the border 
 states, it was treated with mingled con- 
 tempt and indignation. But, throughout 
 the vast North and West, it was received 
 and responded to with an enthusiasm 
 which showed that the attempt to dismem- 
 ber the North American Republic and 
 blot it out from the map of nations, was to 
 be resisted to the last dollar and the last 
 man. The supreme hour in the history of 
 the nation had now arrived, and, reluctant 
 as were the loyal states to engage in the 
 jiorrors of fratricidal strife, the wager of 
 war was the only alternative which now 
 presented itself. The national fate hung 
 trembling in the scale of destiny, and the 
 
 people rose in their might ; party lines 
 were obliterated ; the battle-roll of the 
 republic was called ; the old flag seemed 
 never before so dear to the patriot's heart. 
 
 On the other hand, the successful reduc- 
 tion of Fort Sumter inspired universal 
 enthusiasm at the south, in behalf of the 
 secession cause, — Virginia, Tennessee, 
 North Carolina, Arkansas, and Missouri 
 joined the Confederacy, — and gigantic 
 I^reparations were made for a contest which 
 should result in separation and independ- 
 ence. Armies Avere formed and equipped, 
 and defensive fortifications erected, in all 
 the disunion states. 
 
 At the head of the armies of the loj^al 
 states was Lieutenant-General Scott, di- 
 recting all the preparations and move- 
 ments for the impending conflict, and espe- 
 cially devoting his military skill to the 
 protection of the federal capital. It was 
 said that he had all along been averse, 
 from purely military considerations, to the 
 re-enforcement of Fort Sumter, it being, 
 like Charleston, of no strategic importance, 
 requiring a valuable force to hold it, with 
 no adequate advantage gained. He re- 
 garded Fort Pickens, in the Gulf, and 
 Washington, the capital, as the two keys 
 of the position. On the 4th of March, and 
 for some weeks afterward, it would have 
 been almost impossible for the federal gov- 
 ernment to defend Washington against 
 such a force as had already been collected 
 by the secessionists before Sumter, and 
 which could be marched at any time on a 
 capital unprepared for defense. General 
 Scott's plans, based on these facts, were at 
 once laid. No time was lost in strength- 
 ening the capital. Success attended the 
 effort to increase the garrison of Fort 
 Pickens, and at last Washington was rea- 
 sonably safe. 
 
 And thus commenced what finally 
 proved to be the most gigantic and bloody 
 struggle in the annals of human strife, the 
 result of the conflict, too, being the most 
 momentous, perhaps, in its relations to the 
 interests of the human race, of any since 
 the world began. 
 
xc. 
 
 ASTONISHING FEATS OF HORSE-TAMING PERFORMED 
 
 BY MR. JOHN S. RAREY.— 1861. 
 
 The Most Savage and Furious Animals Made Tractable as Lambs. — The Ferocious and Far Famed 
 " Cruiser" Lies Docile at His Master's Feet — Acclamations of Wonder and Admiration by Crowded 
 Audiences. — Brilliant Honors from Monarchs and Courts Abroad. — Philosophy of Mr. Karey's 
 Method and Success. — Mr. Rarey Personally. — Boyhood Fondness for Horses. — Aptness in Training 
 Them. — Discovers an Improved Method. — Its Perfect Success. — Wild Prairie Horses Subdued. — 
 — Determines to Exhibit Abroad — His Skill Challenged in London. — " Ouiser " to be the Great Test. 
 — Rage and Fury of the Animal — Plunging, Rearing, Yelling, Biting — Rarey's Complete Triumph. — 
 Monarchs and Princes Present — Their Surprise and Delight. — Victoria's Rapturous Applause — 
 Exhibitions in the United States. — Terrible Cases Dealt With. — Rarey Always Conqueror. — His 
 Calm, Fine, Firm Voice. — Cool, Quiet, Quick Movements. — Magnetism of His Presence. — Details of 
 the System. 
 
 " I can break any animal, of whatever nie or habit.i, in the world. 1 can make any animal sensible of my power— make him gentle and 
 eren affectionate."— Mr. Kably, at Niblo's Gakdkn, New Yokk. 
 
 •cruiser," untamed. 
 
 OVEL and extraordinary, to a degree bordering 
 on the marvelous, were the exhibitions 
 with which the name of John S. Karey, 
 of Ohio, became so popuhirly identified, 
 both in America and Europe, in the 
 management of that noblest, as well as 
 most useful and beautiful, of animals, the 
 horse. Wondering and delighted crowds 
 attended these exhibitions, in all 
 the principal cities of this country ; 
 and, abroad, crowned heads and 
 titled dignitaries were among the 
 gifted champion's most enthusias- 
 tic auditors, — and there, as well as 
 at home, every American felt a 
 just pride in the laurels achieved 
 by their countryman. Such a 
 decided sensation, — at once so 
 exciting, ])leasant, and universal, may well have a place in the 
 national gallery of things noteworthy and agreeable. Surel}', 
 few, if any, of the marvels recorded in that wonderful French 
 book, " The Great Wizard," which Dr. K. Shelton McKenzie 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 773 
 
 has given to theEnglisli reader in so fasci- 
 nating a dress, can be said to equal the 
 feats performed by the very practical wiz- 
 ard of Ohio, in tlie different cities of the 
 Union in 1861, and which cast all that is 
 merely ideal or legerdemain far and for- 
 ever into the shade. 
 
 At the time of these astonishing tri- 
 umphs, Mr. Rarey was a slightly built 
 man, about thirty j-ears of age. He was 
 the son of a stock farmer and breeder of 
 horses, who lived in Franklin county, Ohio, 
 and was himself engaged in a similar occu- 
 pation at a place called Groveport, about 
 ten miles from Columbus, the capital of 
 that state. From boyhood he is stated to 
 have exhibited an intense fondness for 
 horses and a remarkable aptitude for 
 breaking and training them after the old 
 fashion, until he discovered a more humane 
 mode of treatment, and which he soon 
 put into practice with the greatest success 
 in his native state. The subjects on which 
 he operated were in many cases horses 
 reclaimed in a perfectly wild condition 
 from the western prairies, and in the 
 course of his experience he had several of 
 his limbs broken, but without at all damp- 
 ening his enthusiasm or diminishing his 
 faith. 
 
 Appreciating the Englishman's superior 
 love and care for the horse, Mr. Rarey 
 visited England at the outset of his career, 
 for the purpose of exhibiting and introduc- 
 ing his system of training in that country. 
 His success was such as to elicit the most 
 unbounded admiration, mingled with at 
 least an equal degree of astonishment, on 
 the part of audiences the most crowded 
 and brilliant, including veteran horse- 
 trainers from far and near. Among the 
 latter class, were not a few who regarded 
 the American performer with somewhat of 
 professional jealousy, and it was not long 
 before the following challenge of his skill 
 was received by him from a high source : 
 *' Mr. Rarey is a public man, and of course 
 exposed to criticism. Some of his experi- 
 ments have proved successful, but there 
 has not been time enough to develop 
 whether the docility of these horses upon 
 
 whom he has operated is as durable as he 
 alleges. If, however, he would 'walk over 
 the course,' and set criticism at defiance, 
 let him go down some morning to Mur- 
 rell's Green, with a few of his aristocratic 
 friends, and try, ' Cruiser,'' and if he can 
 ride him as a hack I guarantee him immor- 
 tality, and an amount of ready money that 
 would make a British bank director's 
 mouth water. The 'initiated' will not be 
 surprised at my selecting Cruiser; but as 
 the public ma3'^ be ignorant of him, I will 
 append some particulars of his history: 
 Cruiser was the property of Lord Dor- 
 chester, and was a favorite of the Derby 
 in Wild Daynell's year, but broke down 
 about a month before the race. Like all 
 horses of Venison blood, his temper was not 
 of the mildest kind, and his owner was glad 
 to get rid of him. When started for Raw- 
 cliffe, the man who had him in charge was 
 told on no account to put him in a stable, 
 as he would never get him out. This 
 injunction was of course disregarded, for 
 w^hen the man wanted some refreshment 
 he put Cruiser in the public stable and 
 left him. To get him out, the roof of the 
 building had to be ripped off. At Raw- 
 cliffe. Cruiser was always exhibited by a 
 groom Avith a ticket-of-leave bludgeon in 
 his hand, and few were bold enough to 
 venture into the animal's inclosure, the 
 cordial wish of every visitor being ' that 
 some friendly bullet would lay him low.' 
 This animal, then, whose temper has 
 depreciated his value perhaps a thousand 
 pounds, I think would be ' the right horse 
 in the right place,' to try Mr. Rarey 's 
 skill ; and as the locale is so near London, 
 the sooner the experiment is made the 
 better." This challenge was no sooner 
 received than accepted, and, as the vicious- 
 ness and ferocity of Cruiser had hitherto 
 utterly baffled ever}^ attempt at subjection, 
 the trial of Mr. Rarey's skill w\as looked 
 forward to with intense interest. 
 
 Cruiser's habit, it appears, was to 
 scream and yell when any one approached 
 him, to smash up his stall "into lucifer 
 matches," and to attempt to bite and de- 
 stroy every living thing in his neighbor- 
 
774 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 hood. Noblemen used to go and throw 
 articles into his brick box, in order to see 
 him fight. When he was to be fed or 
 •watered, the first proceeding with his 
 groom was to ascertain, by thrusting a long 
 pole in at the stable door, where the en- 
 emy stood, and. then to deposit the food, 
 shut the door, and vanish as soon as pos- 
 sible. Mr. Rarey changed all this in a 
 moment, as it were. He ordered the sta- 
 ble door to be thrown open, introduced 
 himself according to his system, without 
 delay, and in half an hour the indomitable 
 Cruiser might be ridden by a child, could 
 listen tranquilly to the beating of a drum, 
 and stand serene even if an umbrella 
 were flourished in his face. Gentle as a 
 lamb, he followed his teacher about the 
 arena like a dog, stopping when he pointed 
 his finger, lying down when he was told, 
 rising again when he obtained permission, 
 and doing all this in a mild, good-humored 
 sort of wa)^, as if the wish to oblige was 
 the sole ruling motive, and that the now 
 docile Cruiser was totall}- unaware of that 
 terrible array of whips and spurs, bits and 
 muzzles, with which his first teachers had 
 sought to check his ferocity and bring him 
 to reason. The speedy, easy, and com- 
 plete success of Mr. Rarey, in this remark- 
 able case, gave him, at once, the most flat- 
 tering and exalted reputation from one end 
 of Europe to the other. 
 
 On Mr. Rarey's appearance at Niblo's, 
 in New York, he exhibited this renowned 
 specimen of the equine race — an animal 
 over sixteen hands high, and of immense 
 bone and muscle, — and said: "When I 
 went to England and exhibited there, the 
 papers all said, 'This is very well, but try 
 Cruiser ! ' I immediately wrote to Lord 
 Dorchester, about the horse, and he replied 
 that the horse could not be brought to me, 
 but that I must come to him. I did go to 
 him. The horse had not been out of his 
 box for three years; a brick stable had to 
 be built for him, and he would have been 
 shot, but he was the last of a race of splen- 
 did blood-horses, and his owner was anx- 
 ious to preserve him if possible. I found 
 that by his biting and kicking he had so 
 
 injured himself that he could not be taken 
 out of his box, and so I had to wait for his 
 recover}'. I went down to see him, quietly 
 and unknown, but somehow the papers got 
 hold of it, and everybody said that I dared 
 not go near Cruiser." Under these cir- 
 cumstances, Mr. Rarey was detained some 
 three weeks, when he went to London, 
 accompanied by the now subdued steed. 
 
 The collar and muzzle which Cruiser 
 used to wear were exhibited b}- Mr. Rarey. 
 His owner could place them upon him 
 only by letting a rope down through the 
 roof of his stall, fastening it under his 
 neck, and raising him off his fore feet. 
 The exhibition at Niblo's was the first 
 time Cruiser had been on the stage in 
 America. " We have," said Mr. Rarey, 
 "had no rehearsal ; but instead of kicking, 
 as he used, he will now (as 3'ou see) give 
 me his foot like a gentleman." Two 
 
 JOHN S. RAUEV. 
 
 straps were now shown, being all that had 
 been used in taming this horse. Mr. 
 Rarey, on being asked "to explain, more 
 particularly', how he approached Cruiser, 
 said : " I think horses have a reason for 
 everything they do. I knew if I ap- 
 proached Cruiser with a stick he would 
 fight me, as he had fought others who 
 came to whip him. In the box was a 
 double door, so that I could open the 
 upper half. I went quietly; opened the 
 door noiselessly. Cruiser turned round, saw 
 me, started back frightfully, but did not 
 attempt to come at me. He came slowly 
 up to smell of me after a while, and, in 
 spite of Lord Dorchester's entreaties, I 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 775 
 
 stood still. Presently, when I saw that 
 he stood naturally, I began to fondle him. 
 Lord Dorchester begged me to tie his 
 head, and I did so, but you never saw 
 suoh fighting. Finding that he would 
 either kill himself or tear down the box, I 
 released him, and began all over again. 
 After he allowed me to fondle him, I took 
 him into the straw-3'ard, and proceeded as 
 with any other horse, until at last he 
 would let me take any liberty with him, 
 and Lord Dorchester mounted him with 
 impunity." Mr. Rarey declared that 
 Cruiser was about as celebrated for his 
 viciousness as he himself was for taming 
 him. 
 
 A horse of the Messenger breed, excita- 
 ble and ferocious, was next operated upon. 
 By gently fondling his head and caressing 
 him, Mr. Rarey succeeded in managing 
 him perfectly. " See," said Mr. Rarey, 
 " I place this horse's foot upon me. There 
 is no danger. He would no more tread 
 heavily upon me than a mare upon her 
 foal." He sat upon the animal, put his 
 hoofs playfully together, and rested his 
 head composedly between the horse's heels. 
 At first, Mr. Rarey fastened a strap round 
 the horse's fore leg, so as to make him 
 limp on three legs and finally kneel. 
 When the second strap was attached, a 
 struggle ensued, which ended in the ani- 
 mal's lying down, and here the art of Mr. 
 Rarey, in its perfect adaptedness to the 
 end sought, was made apparent. 
 
 Next in course Avas a wild horse from 
 South America, which threw Mr. Rarey 
 several times, plunging, rearing, and bit- 
 ing with rage and fury. On his leg, too, 
 Mr. Rarey attached the fatal strap, and, 
 after a prolonged struggle, the animal was 
 thrown, and his conquerer was upon him. 
 After rising up and sitting down again on 
 the horse's back several times, in order to 
 accustom the horse to the sensation, Mr. 
 Rarey raised him up, and, addressing the 
 audience from the animal's back, said: 
 '*It is entirely wrong to leap upon a 
 horse's back and hold fast, no matter how 
 frightened he may be. There is now a 
 perfect understanding between us. All 
 
 horses like me after this process. They 
 all come to me gladly. This is the test of 
 breaking : If they fly away from you, then 
 know you have treated them badly ; if 
 they come to you, they know you are a 
 friend." No better illustration of the 
 truth of these remarks was needed than the 
 case then in hand. 
 
 Perhaps the most brilliant and magnifi- 
 cent reception ever accorded in Europe to 
 a private, untitled American, was on the 
 occasion of Mr. Rarey's performances in 
 London, when there were present the 
 Queen, Prince Albert, the princess royal, 
 the Prince of Wales, Prince Alfred, and 
 other members of the royal family, with 
 the ladies of the court and most of the 
 foreign princes and distinguished visitors 
 then in the metropolis, including Prince 
 Erederick William of Prussia, the prince 
 of Prussia ; the Princes Prederick Charles, 
 Albert, Prederick Albert, and Adelbert, of 
 Prussia; Prince Hohenzollern Sigmarin- 
 gen, the Duke of Saxe Coburg and Gotha, 
 the Duke of Brabant, the Count of Flan- 
 ders, Prince William of Baden, Prince 
 Edward of Saxe Weimer, and Prince Jul- 
 ius of Holstein Glucksburg. The Duke 
 of Wellington, Major-General Sir Richard 
 Airey, Lord Paget, and countless other 
 dignitaries were also present. 
 
 The subjects on which Mr. Rarey oper- 
 ated were decided cases. One was a fine- 
 spirited black horse, of high nervous tem- 
 perament, which had been returned to Mr. 
 Anderson, of Picadilly, of whom he had 
 been bought for a large sum of money, on 
 the ground of his being all but unmanage- 
 able. At the first private interview of 
 Mr. Rarey with this horse, the animal was 
 placed in a loose box, which Mr. Rarey 
 entered, cracking a whip. Startled by 
 this unusual exhibition of violence, the 
 horse struck out with both his hind legs, 
 and uttered a kind of savage yell. The 
 company who had assembled to witness 
 the experiment were then asked to with- 
 draw, and Mr. Rarey was left alone with 
 the horse. On being called in again, in 
 less than quarter of an hour, they were 
 amazed to find the animal prostrate on his 
 
776 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 side among the straw in the stall, with 
 his head slightly raised, and Mr. Rarey, 
 whom he was eyeing without the slightest 
 symptom of alarm, lying beside him. Mr. 
 Rarey remained with him in this position 
 for some time, during which he knocked 
 the horse's fore and hind hoofs together, 
 made a pillow of his thighs, and finally got 
 up and ran a heavy wheelbarrow up to and 
 around the still prostrate creature, without 
 producing in him the slightest sensation 
 of fear. Subsequently, the mastery of 
 Mr. Rarey became so complete over this 
 horse, that, when laid on his side in a 
 loose box, a plank was placed against his 
 shoulder in sight of the horse, and a bar- 
 row run up it. He never moved. A 
 drum was also beaten on his back, and an 
 umbrella opened in his very face ; but he 
 remained stock still, and evinced no sign 
 of apprehension. 
 
 The next subject on which Mr. Rarey 
 experimented was a young unbroken colt, 
 brought from Prince Albert's farm, and 
 which had never been handled in any 
 way. This colt was led into the arena in 
 halter, and, after being left alone with the 
 horse-tamer a few minutes, the company 
 saw, as in the former case, this wild colt 
 lying on the ground, and the horse-tamer 
 by his side, who sat upon him and handled 
 his legs, feet, and every other part by 
 turns, — a process during which the creat- 
 ure remained as gentle and passive as a 
 child. 
 
 After Mr. Rarey had parted with the 
 colt, a handsome bay-charger, belonging to 
 Prince Albert, was brought forward. Tliis 
 horse was one of high spirit, which had 
 always shown great restlessness while be 
 ing mounted and a constant tendency to 
 take fright, and, it was thought, would 
 thoroughly defy all of Mr. Earey's at- 
 tempts to tame him. In a short time, 
 however, the horse-tamer had him down 
 also, as submissive as all the rest, and was 
 seen crawling among his legs, sitting upon 
 his shoulders and hips, and knocking his 
 hoofs together. Then, bidding the horse 
 rise, which he did instantly, Mr. Rarey 
 jumped upon his back, and held by turns 
 
 an umbrella over his head and beat a tat- 
 too on a drum, the hitherto proud, restless 
 animal, now owning subjection to a new 
 master, remaining the while almost as 
 motionless as a statue. 
 
 All these remarkable feats were watched 
 throughout with the most intense interest 
 — the Queen, in the enthusiasm of the 
 moment, herself rapturously applauding 
 with her own hands, and the whole com- 
 pany joining in prolonged demonstrations 
 of astonishment and delight. 
 
 In Paris, Mr. Rarey's method produced 
 unbounded excitement. In order to put 
 the system to a vigorous test, the emperor 
 caused to be purchased, at Caen, a four- 
 year-old horse, by " Tipple Cider," noted 
 for its violence, and for kicking furiously 
 whenever an attempt was made to put a 
 crupper on it. In the space of four days, 
 this horse was as docile with the saddle 
 and the harness as could be desired, and 
 he allowed a whip to be cracked about his 
 head, and a drum to be beaten on his back, 
 without any manifestation of fear. 
 
 Another most notable case was that of a 
 stallion belonging to the government, and 
 which was so untamable, so vicious, so 
 furious, in fact, that a resolution had been 
 adopted to kill it. The animal was lent 
 for the purpose by M. de Baylen, and as 
 many as three hundred members of the 
 Jockey and other clubs assembled to see 
 what Mr. Rarey could do with him. In 
 company with this horse, which arrived 
 with a noose-band on, and muzzled, and 
 led by two men, Mr. Rarey fastened him- 
 self up in a stall, and, in an hour after, he 
 came out mounted on its back. Although 
 the horse had always previously bitten the 
 legs of everyone who mounted him, he was 
 then perfectly quiet ; and though the very 
 sight of a whip was accustomed to put it 
 in a fury, it received a correction as qui- 
 etly as the best broken-in horse would 
 have done. The members of the Jockey 
 Club Avere astonished at what they wit- 
 nessed, and broke out into loud acclama- 
 tions of admiration, after which they 
 gathered round Mr. Rarey to compliment 
 him. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 777 
 
 In London, again, Mr. Rarey tested his 
 skill successfully, in the space of an hour, 
 on a famous bay mare, long pronounced 
 incurable — who was so dangerous to ap- 
 proach in any way that she could not be 
 ridden, would strike with her fore feet like 
 a pugilist, and kick as well with her hind 
 feet. So savage w'as she, that no horse- 
 man had been able to ascertain her age by 
 looking at her teeth ; yet Mr. Rarey not 
 only opened her mouth, but put his hand 
 into it several times, and told his audi- 
 ence that, in his opinion, she was eight 
 years old. Great cheers followed this tri- 
 umph of skill, but it was to be still 
 
 vast audience — who sat in silence and sur- 
 prise almost approaching to awe — was 
 greeted at its close with rounds of ap- 
 plause, and Mr. Rarey was tumultuously 
 called for twice to receive an ovation of 
 cheers. 
 
 Visiting Russia, a special exhibition 
 was given, by request, before the emperor 
 and his court. All etiquette was laid 
 aside by the royal spectators — the em- 
 peror, and empress, and all present, enter- 
 ing into the humors of the evening with a 
 hearty abandonment, not only deeply grat- 
 ified at the novelty of the entertainment, 
 but also with the privilege of giving vent 
 
 SI 
 
 MR. RAREY EXHIBITING HIS CELEBRATED METHOD OF TAMING HORSES. 
 
 further demonstrated on a thorough-bred, 
 high-spirited Arabian stallion, extremely 
 vicious, perfectly uncontrollable, biting at 
 every one that approached him, and that 
 would not suffer himself to be bridled ex- 
 cept blindfolded. On his arrival on this 
 occasion, at the railway station, he knocked 
 down his groom by kicking him on the 
 head ; and on being taken into the ring, 
 nearly broke the arm of the man who led 
 him in, by striking him with his fore feet. 
 Mr. Rarey, notwithstanding, succeeded 
 after a desperate struggle, which lasted 
 for about an hour, in rendering him as 
 tractable as a lamb. This feat, which was 
 witnessed throughout by the whole of the 
 
 to their natural feelings. That nothing 
 might be wanting to fulfill the object of 
 the exhibition, the emperor had shrewdly 
 availed himself of his varied resources, in 
 in procuring such an animal as would test 
 Mr. Rarey's powers to the greatest extent 
 — the Russian wilds affording, as is well 
 known, fearful specimens of untutored and 
 savage horse life. At a certain signal, 
 therefore, a perfectly wild brute from the 
 Steppes was brought into the arena, and 
 for the first time introduced to Mr. Rarey's 
 notice. Two peasants, themselves semi- 
 barbarous, awed by the presence of the 
 emperor, and filled with intense fear by 
 the plunging and rearing of the horse in 
 
778 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 their charge, with difficulty restrained him 
 from breaking away, biting their flesh, 
 or knocking their brains out with his 
 heels, which at times cleaved the air with 
 fearful velocity, for the infuriated animal, 
 in the insanity of his captivity, absolutely 
 bit at interposing objects as if he were a 
 tiger. Mr. Rarey, perfectly self-possessed, 
 and to the surj^rise of all present, boldlj'^ 
 laid his hand ujion his neck, and then 
 passed it gently over the ears, and in a 
 few moments ordered the peasants to un- 
 loose their rigorous hold on the ropes, 
 when Mr. Rarey proceeded to further pac- 
 ify the creature, his success being com- 
 plete. The emperor and the imperial 
 family looked on with amazement, while 
 the two peasants Avere struck dumb with 
 awe and wonder — the effect being height- 
 ened when the emperor, half sternly and 
 half playfully, asked them " why they 
 could not thus handle the horse ! " 
 
 One of the worst specimens that Mr. 
 Rarey had to deal with in America, was a 
 New York car-horse, — a very bad kicker, 
 striking with her fore feet, allowing no 
 one to approach her in her stable, very 
 treacherous, and giving no warning. When 
 the horse appeared upon the stage, it 
 was pronounced a tough-looking customer 
 enough, — thin, Aviry, dirty, stubborn, Aac- 
 ious, evil-eyed. It had not been shod 
 except with all its feet tied, and then Avith 
 difficulty. Every time Mr. Rarey touched 
 it, the horse kicked most savagely. Eirst 
 one little strap Avas tied on, hoAvever, and 
 then another. The horse fell easily, as it 
 had been used to be thrown thus to be 
 shod. But, Avhen the straps Avere taken 
 off, and Rarey began his familiarities, then 
 came the tug of Avar. It Avas kick and 
 bite, soothe and fondle, get up and fall 
 down, until at last the struggling beast 
 completely succumbed to the tamer's 
 kindness. Mr. Rarey's head lay be- 
 tween those formidable hoofs; his hand 
 unloosed the bridle Avhich had not been 
 removed for months ; lie played black- 
 smith, too, hammering at the shoe without 
 any difficulty, and curing the last bit of 
 restlessness by turning the horse round 
 
 and round aAvhile. Mr. Rarey led off the 
 subdued old equine hag Avith as much com- 
 placency as if biting and kicking had 
 never been known. The astonishment of 
 the OAvner, Avho kneAV the horse so well, 
 only outran that of the audience. 
 
 The theory proclaimed by Mr. Rarey, 
 in his lectures and performances, Avas, that 
 hitherto the mode of treating this noble 
 animal — at least in the preliminary stages 
 of breaking, etc., — had proceeded on ideas 
 of his nature altogether erroneous and 
 cruel, and been invariably characterized 
 by unnecessary A^olence, proA'oking the 
 display of resistance and other kindred 
 qualities on his part, and so the evil has 
 been perpetuated. On the other hand, 
 the principle advocated by Mr. Rarey and 
 constituting the hey to his success — that of 
 extreme kindness and tenderness, — con- 
 A'inces the animal that man is his natural 
 master and friend, and elicits his confi- 
 dence and kindly regard. Appealing to 
 'Hhe intellect and affections of the liorse," 
 as the basis of his system of treatment, 
 Mr. Rarey Avas enabled to say, to his ATist 
 and admiring audience at Niblo's Garden, 
 NeAV York : 
 
 "I luiA^e never had an accident since I 
 became perfect in my system, and I don't 
 fear any. I have been among horses since 
 I Avas twelve years old, and at first had a 
 great many accidents. Every limb has 
 been broken, except my right arm ; but be- 
 ing young, Avhen these accidents happened, 
 the bones fortunately healed strongly. 
 Now I know horses' CA'ery thought, and 
 can break any animal, of Avhatever age 
 and habits, in the Avorld. I can make any 
 animal sensible of my poAver — make him 
 gentle and even affectionate." 
 
 The mechanical process employed in 
 this system, as described, consists in fast- 
 ening one fore leg by a strap — first allow- 
 ing the horse to see and smell it — passed 
 around the pastern and buckled close to 
 the forearm. Another strap is then fast- 
 ened to the pastern of the other fore leg, 
 and is either passed under a belt, previ- 
 ously buckled about the horse's bod}', and 
 its end held in one liand, or it may be held 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 779 
 
 over his back. 'The liorse is then gentlj 
 urged forward, and as he raises his free 
 fore foot to step, it is })ullod from under 
 him by the operator. This brings him 
 upon his knees. A struggle ensues, in 
 wliich the man is sure to be the victor. 
 Next, by a sufficient pressure, the horse is 
 thrown upon his side and lies helpless. 
 The operator then soothes him with the 
 hand and voice, removes the straps, and 
 after a short period allows him to rise. 
 A single application is generally sufficient. 
 Mr. Rarey's cool, quiet, quick move- 
 ments, his calm, fine, firm voice, gave to 
 his presence a peculiar magnetism and 
 contributed greatly to his power over the 
 horse ; so that, in this respect, he achieved 
 a world-wide reputation, without a peer or 
 rival to divide his fame. The courage and 
 self-possession exhibited by him were ex- 
 traordinary, — a patience, too, that nothing 
 could wear out, and a temper that nothing 
 could ruffle. Never in a hurry, he went 
 through his work in a way that showed it 
 to be, to him, a labor of love. There was 
 
 no mystery, no charm, no drugs, employed 
 by him in his performances. He ex- 
 plained everything he was about to do, 
 and gave a reason for it ; and then, by 
 doing it, successfully proved that his rea- 
 soning was correct. At the end of the 
 performance, the horse would walk quietly 
 about without the slightest appearance of 
 excitement or fatigue. But, while thus 
 sparing the horse, Mr. Rarey evidently 
 took an immensity of work out of himself, 
 seemingly undergoing a sustained mental 
 strain, in order that the horse, whose 
 instinct is so sharp, might not see the 
 slightest faltering in his proceedings. 
 His system, a slow and gentle, but irre- 
 sistible pressure, aimed not to crush, but 
 to subdue, and, to this end, perfect self- 
 control was indispensable. If, therefore, 
 at the most critical moment, he reqviired 
 a riding-whip or a pocket handkerchief, he 
 called for it as coolly as one would for a 
 glass of lemonade, or as Nelson called for 
 the sealing-wax during the bombardment 
 of Copenhagen. 
 
BATTLE 
 
 XCL 
 
 AT BULL KUN, YA., BETWEEN THE FEDERAL 
 AND CONFEDERATE ARMIES.— 1861. 
 
 First Important Engagement in the Great Civil War. — Severe Fighting for Many Hours. — Most Disas- 
 trous Defeat of the Federal Troops. — Their Uncontrollable Panic and Headlong Flight. — The South 
 Jubilant. — Gloom and Humiliation of the Loyal States. — Three Months Since Sumter Fell. — Armies 
 Massed at Washington and Richmond. — Threats Against the Federal Capital. — Irritation and Impa^ 
 tience of the North. — "On to Richmond!" the Union War-Cry. — March of McDowell's Army. — 
 Plan of the Movement. — Rousing the Southern Forces. — Their Unexpected Strength. — Uncertain 
 Fate of the Day. — Re-enforcement for Confederates. — Davis's Arrival on the Ground. — He Exclaims, 
 "Onward, My Brave Comrades!" — Their Wild Enthusiasm. — A Lost Battle for the Union. — Com- 
 plete Demoralization. — Three Miles of Scattered Troops. — Arms, Stores, etc., Flung Away — Dis- 
 tressing Sights and Sounds. — Thanksgiving Appointed by Davis. — Te Deums Sung in the Southern 
 Churches. — Lessons Taught by this Battle. 
 
 " The sainted patriots cry, "It cannot be!" 
 
 From heaven they epeak, and from their graves revered; 
 
 The God who gave tnem victory will not see 
 
 The temple shattered which their toil hae reared I ' 
 
 MONUMENT ON THE BATTLE-FIELD. 
 
 ORE than three months had passed since the cap- 
 ture of Fort Sumter, and, during this exciting 
 period, throughout the country, the great contend- 
 ing parties had massed, respectively, immense bodies 
 of troops at Washington and Richmond, and their 
 vicinities. So deep was the indignation felt by the 
 upholders of the national cause, at the fall of Sum- 
 ter, and at the various hostile movements and expe- 
 ditions by the confederates which followed that 
 event, — such as the fearless assault made upon the 
 federal soldiers while passing through Baltimore, 
 the destruction of railroads and telegraphs, the 
 seizure of Northerners' property at the South, the 
 loss of the Norfolk navy yard, the rout at and the 
 defiant threats of an advance on Washington, — that 
 the cry of " On to Riclimond,^^ into which city the 
 confederate forces had poured from every part of 
 the South, both for defensive and aggressive opera- 
 tions, was heard on every side. Indeed, the pa- 
 tience of the North had become strained to its 
 utmost tension toward those whose alleged official 
 inactivity or tardiness was the assumed cause of the 
 insurgent army not having been, long since, scat- 
 tered and destroyed. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 781 
 
 There were of course those who Jitl not 
 share this impetuosity, — knowing well the 
 capacities of defense peculiar to Richmond 
 and its approaches, and keenly comprehend- 
 ing the disastrous effect upon the loyal 
 states of a lost battle in the open field, 
 immediately after the siege and reduction 
 of Sumter. 
 
 To the pressure, however, of this almost 
 universal demand for an " onward move- 
 ment," General Scott at last yielded, and, 
 on the 21st of July, 18G1, the first really 
 important engagement between the union 
 and confederate forces took place on the 
 banks of a stream called Bull Run, a few 
 miles to the north-west of Manassas Junc- 
 tion, Va., and about thirty miles south of 
 the Potomac at Washington. It was on 
 the 16th of July, that the union army, 
 commanded by General McDowell, and 
 officered by Generals Tyler, Hunter, 
 Richardson, Heintzelman, Patterson, and 
 Miles, commenced its march, the whole 
 number of men being some forty-five thou- 
 sand. The confederate force which they 
 were soon to encounter, was much larger, 
 and consisted of the division of General 
 Beauregard, intrenched at Manassas Junc- 
 tion, re-enforced by the division under 
 General Johnston, previously stationed at 
 Winchester, in the valley of the Shenan- 
 doah, and a large body of reserves advanced 
 from Richmond and Aquia Creek. 
 
 On the 17th, the union army, in three 
 columns, continued their line of march, 
 the advance column occupying Fairfax 
 Court House about one hour before noon, 
 the confederates withdrawing as the union- 
 ists advanced. The cavalry pushed on to 
 Centreville ; and, on the 18th, the army 
 took up its march for the same place. The 
 advance, to this date, had been steadily 
 made on all sides, and the reported posi- 
 tions of the troops considered good at head- 
 quarters. In the afternoon, an engage- 
 ment took place at Blackburn's Ford. But 
 the character of this conflict, as well as the 
 general plan of the whole movement, will be 
 best understood by presenting here the im- 
 portant portion of General McDowell's offi- 
 cial report, or an abstract of the same. 
 
 On the evening of July 20th, McDow- 
 ell's command was mostly at or near Cen- 
 treville, and the confederate forces at or 
 near Manassas, about seven miles to the 
 south-west. Centreville is a place of a few 
 houses, mostly on the west side of a ridge 
 running nearly north and south. The 
 road from Centreville to Manassas Junc- 
 tion is along this ridge, crossing Bull Run 
 about three miles from the former place. 
 The Warrenton turnpike, which runs 
 nearly east and west, goes over this ridge, 
 through the village, and crosses Bull Run 
 about four miles from it, Bull Run having 
 a course between the crossing from north- 
 west to south-east. The first division, 
 Tyler's, was stationed on the north side of 
 the Warrenton turnpike, and on the east- 
 ern slope of the Centreville ridge, two 
 brigades on the same road, and a mile and 
 a half in advance, to the west of the ridge, 
 and one brigade on the road from Centre- 
 ville to Manassas, where it crosses Bull 
 Run at Blackburn's Ford. The second 
 division. Hunter's, was on the Warrenton 
 turnpike, one mile east of Centreville. 
 The third division, Heintzelman's, was on 
 a road known as the Old Braddock road, 
 which comes into Centreville from the 
 south-east, about a mile and a half from 
 the village. The fifth division, Miles's, 
 was on the same road with the third divis- 
 ion, and between it and Centreville. 
 
 The fight at Blackburn's Ford, on the 
 18th, showed that the confederates were 
 too strong at that point for the unionists 
 to force a passage there without great loss, 
 and, from all the information that could be 
 obtained, McDowell found that his only 
 alternative was to turn the extreme left of 
 the confederate position. Reliable infor- 
 mation was also obtained of an undefended 
 ford about three miles above the bridge, 
 there being another ford between it and 
 the bridge, which was defended. It was 
 therefore determined to take the road to 
 the upper ford, and, after crossing, to get 
 behind the forces guarding the lower ford 
 and the bridge, and after occupying the 
 Warrenton road east of the bridge, to send 
 out a force to destroy the railroad at or 
 
782 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 near Gainesville, and thus break up the 
 communication between the confederate 
 forces at Manassas and those in the valley 
 of Virginia, before Winchester, which had 
 been held in check by Major-General Pat- 
 terson. Brigadier-General Tyler had been 
 directed to move with three of his brigades 
 on the Warrenton road, and commence 
 cannonading the enemy's batteries, while 
 Hunter's division, moving after him, 
 should, after passing a little stream called 
 Cub Run, turn to the right and north, and 
 move around to the upper ford, and there 
 turn south and get behind the enemy. 
 Heintzelman's division was to follow Hun- 
 ter's as far as the turning off place to the 
 lower ford, where he was to cross after the 
 enemy should have been driven out by 
 
 Hunter's division ; the fifth division, 
 Miles's, to be in reserve on the Centreville 
 ridge. The fourth division, Runyon's, 
 had not been brought to the front farther 
 than to guard the federal communications 
 by way of Vienna and the Orange and 
 Alexandria railroad. 
 
 The divisions, says General McDowell, 
 were ordered to march at half-past two 
 o'clock, A. M., so as to arrive on the ground 
 early in the day, and thus avoid the heat. 
 There was delay in the first division get- 
 ting out of its camp on tlie road, and tlie 
 other divisions were in consequence be- 
 
 tween tw^o and three hours behind the time 
 appointed — a great misfortune, as events 
 turned out. General Tyler commenced 
 with his artillery at half-past six A. M., 
 but the enemy did not reply, and after 
 some time it became a question whether he 
 was in any force in our front, and if he did 
 not intend himself to make an attack, and 
 make it by Blackburn's Ford. After firing 
 several times, and obtaining no response, I 
 held, (says this officer,) one of Heintzel- 
 man's brigades in reserve, in case we should 
 have to send any troops back to re-enforce 
 Miles's division. The other brigades 
 moved forward as directed in the general 
 orders. On reaching the ford, at Sudlej's 
 Spring, I found part of the leading brig- 
 ade of' Hunter's division, Burnside's, had 
 crossed, but the men were slow in 
 getting over, stopping to drink. As 
 at this time the clouds of dust from 
 the direction of Manassas indicated 
 the immediate approach of a large 
 force, and fearing it might come 
 down on the head of the column be- 
 fore the division could all get over 
 and sustain it, orders were sent back 
 to the heads of regiments to break 
 from the column and come forward 
 separately as fast as possible. Orders 
 were sent by an officer to the reserve 
 brigade of Heintzelman's division to 
 come by a nearer road across the 
 fi^elds, and an aid-de-camp was sent to 
 Tyler to direct him to press forward 
 his attack, as large bodies of the 
 enemy were passing in front of him 
 to attack the division Avhich had crossed 
 over. The ground between the stream 
 and the road leading from Sudley's 
 Spring south and over which Burnside's 
 brigade marched, was for about a mile 
 from the ford thickly wooded, whilst on 
 the right of the road, for about the same 
 distance, the country was divided between 
 fields and woods. About a mile from the 
 road, the country on both sides of the 
 road is ojien, and, for nearl}^ a mile 
 further, large rolling fields extend down 
 to the Warrenton turnpike, wdiich crosses 
 what became the field of battle, through 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 783 
 
 the valley of a small water course, a tribu- 
 tary of Bull Run. 
 
 Concerning the general action, the offi- 
 cial report says : Shortly after the leading 
 regiment of the first brigade reached the 
 open space, and whilst others and the 
 second brigade were crossing to the front 
 and right, the enemy opened his fire, 
 beginning with artillery and following up 
 with infantry. The leading brigade, Burn- 
 side's, had to sustain this shock for a short 
 time without support, and did it well. 
 The battalion of regular infantry was sent 
 to sustain it, and shortly afterwards the 
 other corps of Porter's brigade, and a reg- 
 iment detached from Heintzelman's divis- 
 ion to the left, forced the enemy back far 
 enough to allow Sherman's and Keyes's 
 brigades of Tyler's division to cross from 
 their position on the Warrenton road. 
 These drove the right of the enemy from 
 the front of the field, and out of the de- 
 tached woods, and down to the road, and 
 across it up the slopes on the other side. 
 Whilst this was going on, Heintzelman's 
 division was moving down the field to the 
 stream, and up the road beyond. Beyond 
 the Warrenton road, and to the left of the 
 road, down which our troops had marched 
 from Sudley's Spring, is a hill with a 
 farmhouse on it. Behind this hill, the 
 enemy had, early in the day, some of his 
 most annoying batteries planted. Across 
 the road from this hill was another hill, 
 and the hottest part of the contest was for 
 the possession of this hill with a house on 
 it. The force engaged here was Heintzel- 
 man's division, Wilcox's and Howard's 
 brigades on the right, supported by part 
 of Porter's brigade and the cavalry under 
 Palmer, and Franklin's brigade of Heint- 
 zelman's division, Sherman's brigade of 
 Tyler's division in the center and up the 
 road, whilst Keyes's brigade of Tyler's 
 division was on the left, attacking the bat- 
 teries near the stone bridge. The Rhode 
 Island battery of Burnside's brigade also 
 participated in this attack by its fire from 
 the north of the turnpike. Rickett's bat- 
 ter}"^, which did such effective service and 
 played so brilliant a part in this contest, 
 
 was, together with Griffin's battery, on the 
 side of the hill, and became the object of 
 the enemy's special attention, who suc- 
 ceeded — our officers mistaking one of his 
 regiments for one of our own, and allowing 
 it to approach without firing upon it — in 
 disabling the battery, and then attempted 
 to take it. Three times was he repulsed 
 by different corps in succession, and 
 driven back, and the guns taken by hand, 
 the horses being killed, and pulled away. 
 The third time it was supposed by all that 
 the repulse was final, for he was driven 
 entirely from the hill, and so far beyond 
 it as not to be in sight, and all were cer- 
 tain the day was ours. He had before this 
 been driven nearly a mile and a half, and 
 was be3'ond the Warrenton road, which 
 was entirely in our possession from the 
 stone bridge westward, and our engineers 
 were just completing the removal of the 
 abattis across the road, to allow our re-en- 
 forcements — Schenck's brigade and Ayers's 
 battery — to join us. 
 
 After describing the condition of the 
 confederate army at this time as disheart- 
 ened and broken. General McDowell ex- 
 plains some of the causes that led to the 
 disastrous fate which befell the federal 
 army. They had been fighting since half- 
 past ten o'clock in the morning, and it was 
 after three in the afternoon. The men had 
 been up since two o'clock in the morning, 
 and had made what to those unused to 
 such things seemed a long march before 
 coming into action, though the longest 
 distance gone over was not more than nine 
 and a half miles ; and though they had 
 three days' provisions served out to them 
 the day before, many no doubt either did 
 not eat them, or threw them awa^^ on the 
 march or during the battle, and were 
 therefore without food. They had done 
 much severe fighting. Some of the regi- 
 ments which had been driven from the 
 hill in the first two attempts of the enemy 
 to get possession of it had become shaken, 
 were unsteady, and had many men out of 
 the ranks. 
 
 It was at this time, says McDowell, 
 that the enemy's re-enforcements came to 
 
784 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 his aid from the railroad train. They 
 threw themselves in the woods on our 
 right and towards the rear of our right, 
 and opened a fire of musketry on our men, 
 which caused them to break and retire 
 down the hillside. This soon degenerated 
 into disorder, for which there was no rem- 
 edy. Every effort was made to rally them, 
 even beyond the reach of the enemy's fire, 
 but in vain. The battalion of regular 
 infantry alone moved up the hill opposite 
 to the one with the house on it, and there 
 maintained itself until our men could get 
 down to and across the Warrenton turn- 
 pike, on the way back to the position we 
 occupied in the morning. The plain was 
 covered with the retreating troops, and 
 
 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 tbis 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, bogging 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 Portei-'s force of reg- 
 ulars. Once on the road, and the different 
 corps coming together in small parties. 
 
 many without officers, they became inter- 
 mingled, and all organization was lost. 
 
 The onset of that tumultuous retreat is 
 described by those who witnessed it as ter- 
 rific. For three miles, hosts of federal 
 troops — all detached from their regiments, 
 all mingled in one disorderly rout — were 
 fleeing along the road, but mostly through 
 the lots on either side. Army wagons, 
 sutlers' teams, and private carriages, 
 choked the passage, tvimbling against each 
 other, amid clouds of dust, and sickening 
 sights and sounds. Hacks, containing 
 unlucky spectators of the battle, were 
 smashed like glass, and the occupants were 
 lost sight of in the debris. Horses, flying 
 wildly from the battle-field, many of them 
 in death agony, galloped at random for- 
 ward, joining in the stampede. Those 
 on foot who could catch them rode them 
 bare-back, as much to save themselves 
 from being run over, as to make quicker 
 time. Wounded men, lying along the 
 banks — the few neither left on the field 
 nor taken to the captured hospitals — 
 appealed with raised hands to those 
 who rode horses, begging to be lifted 
 behind, but few regarded such j)eti- 
 tions. Then the artillery, such as was 
 saved, came thundering along, smashing 
 and overpowering everything. The cav- 
 alry added to all these terrors, for they 
 rode down footmen without mercy. 
 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 exj^ression 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 785 
 
 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 fragments 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, man}' of them, cut the traces of 
 their horses, and galloped fi'om their 
 wajrons. Others threw out tlieir 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; 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 
 nwre from the battle-ground. A perfect 
 frenz}' was upon almost every man. Some 
 cried piteously to be assisted in their help- 
 lessness, and others sought to clamber into 
 wagons, the occupants resisting them with 
 bayonets. Even the sentiment of shame 
 had gone. Some of the better men tried 
 to withstand the rush, and cried out 
 agaiast the flying groups, calling them 
 " cowards, poltroons, brutes," and reviling 
 them for so degrading themselves, espe- 
 cially when no enemy was near. 
 
 50 
 
 There were, of course, numerous excep- 
 tions 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 bark 
 — retire," continued the commander. " Go 
 back — where?'''' "Leave the field." 
 '■'■Leave? Wliy, that ain't what we come 
 for. We're here to fight," insisted the 
 bo3's. " 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 disj)leased with the 
 order. It was these who received the first 
 charge of the famous Black Horse Guard, 
 a splendid corps of cavalry, 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 
 by 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 
 ruse 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 desi)era- 
 tion. The brave fellows fell, the ranks filh d 
 up, the sabers, bowie-knives, and bayonet.-, 
 glistened in the sunlight, horse after horse 
 went down, platoon after platoon disap- 
 peared, — the carnage was d cadful, the 
 bravery on both sides unexampK'd. 
 
786 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1S76. 
 
 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 
 tlie 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 RPN. 
 
 mand was given to retreat in order, and 
 the brigade fell slowly and regularly back, 
 wi^h the same precision as if on parade. 
 Over and over again, Blenker begged per- 
 mission to maintain his post, or even to 
 advance. ^^ lletreat ! ^' 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- 
 
GREAT AND MEiMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 787 
 
 ment, under Colonel Matheson of the New 
 York Thirty -second, forward to their sup- 
 port; but, though the cavaliy was thus 
 turned to the riglit about, it was found 
 impossible to withstand the mad career of 
 the extraordinary mass that came pouring 
 back upon Centreville. The best that 
 could be done, therefore, was for the Cali- 
 fornia regiment to stay just where it was, 
 and, in absence of further orders, lend 
 Avhat aid it could to the protection of 
 Green's batter}', which was busily plying 
 its fire upon the harassing approaclies of 
 the Virginia horse. While the Thirfy- 
 second was in this position, the Sixteenth 
 and Thirty-first having passed within its 
 range, a youthful orderly rode up to Colonel 
 IVIatheson 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 
 curiosity to learn who this young lieu- 
 tenant was, and whence these orders 
 came ; he therefore turned sharply on 
 the youth, who, he now perceived, could 
 not be more than twenty-two or three, 
 and said: 
 
 " Young man, I would like to know your 
 name." 
 
 " I am 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." 
 
 Tlie fortunes of war seemed to favor the 
 confederate army, in some respects quite 
 unlooked 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 entirely unex- 
 pected. Jefferson Davis left Richmond 
 at six o'clock in the morning, and reached 
 Manassas Junction at four, where, mount- 
 ing a horse, and accompanied by numerous 
 attendants, he galloped to the battle-field 
 just in time to join in the pursuit by a 
 magnificent body 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 
 
788 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 course of the battle. The whole south 
 was, of course, jubilant over the victory 
 which their arms had achieved. Te 
 Deiims 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- 
 tinent. 
 
XCII. 
 
 EXTRAORDINARY COMBAT BETWEEN THE IRON-CLADS 
 MERRIMAC AND MONITOR, IN HAMPTON 
 
 ROADS.— 18G2. 
 
 SuilJen Appearance of the Merrimac Among the Federal Frigates — Tlieir Swift and Terrible Dt&truc- 
 tion by Her Steel Prow. — Unexpected Arrival of tiie " Little Monitor" at the Scene of Action. — Slie 
 Engages and Disables the Monster Craft in a Four Hours' Fight. — Total Revolution in Naval War- 
 fare the World Over by this 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 with the Monster. — The Two 
 Ti)gether, Next Day — A Scene Never to be Forgotten. — Worden Turns the Tide of Fortune. — 
 Repulse and Retreat of the Merrimac. 
 
 " Bb !T Rksolved, etc., That the thnnk" nf CongrPBS nnd of the American prople are due, ond are hereby tendered, to Liontenant J. 
 L. Worden. of the United States Nuvv. and to the nCiceifi and men ot the iron-clad gun-bnat Monitor, nnder his command, for the skill and 
 
 ?ill mtry exhibited bv them in the late remaikuble baitle bctweea the Monitor and the rebel iion-clad bteamer Merrimac." — Resolution 
 'aS3LD by CO.VOUES3. 
 
 UTTTING the city of Norfolk, Ya., on the eighth 
 ot March. 1862, the confederate iron-chid steam- 
 ram Merrimac sailed down Elizabeth river into 
 Hampton Eoads, Chesapeake Bay, and there sig- 
 nalized the naval history' ol 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 in 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 
 ixTERiou OF THE TowEK OF THE MONITOR, througli to hcr bcrth-dcck, which, with her spar 
 and gun-decks, was also burned. Soon after the confederate authorities took possession 
 of the navy yard, the Merrimac was raised and converted into an iron-plated man-of-war 
 of the most formidable character. Immediately after this, she was placed upon the dry 
 
790 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 dock, and covered with a sloping roof of 
 iron plates three inches thick, the weight 
 of which nearly broke her down upon the 
 dock. Owing to some miscalculation when 
 launched, she sank four feet deeper than 
 before, and took in considerable water. She 
 was, in consequence, obliged to be docked a 
 second time. Her hull was cut down to 
 within three feet of her water-mark, over 
 which the bomb-proof house covered her 
 gun-deck. She was also iron-plated, and her 
 bow and stern steel-clad, with a projecting 
 snout of iron for the purpose of piercing 
 an antagonist. She had no masts, and 
 there was nothing to be seen over her gun- 
 deck but the pilot-house and smoke-stack. 
 Her bomb-proof was three inches thick, 
 and consisted of wrought iron. Her arma- 
 ment consisted of four eleven-inch navy 
 guns, broadside, and two one-hundred- 
 pounder rifled guns at the bow and stern. 
 She was now named the Virginia, though 
 she continued to be known as the ]\Ierri- 
 mac. She was commanded by Com. Frank- 
 lin Buchanan, formerly commandant of the 
 AVashington navy yard. 
 
 The time chosen for her departure for 
 Hampton Roads was one peculiarly adapted 
 for the trial of her prowess. The federal 
 fleet in that vicinity comprised the sloop- 
 of-war Cumberland, the sailing-frigate 
 Congress, the steam-frigates Minnesota, 
 St. Lawrence, and Roanoke — the latter in 
 a disabled condition from a broken shaft, 
 together with a number of improvised 
 gun-boats of a small grade. The Cumber- 
 land and Congress were anchored before 
 the entrenched federal camp at Newport 
 News, the Roanoke and St. Lawrence near 
 the Rip Raps, and the Minnesota in front 
 of Fortress Monroe. 
 
 On the ^Mcrrimac coming out, on Satur- 
 day, the eighth of March, she stood directly 
 across the roads toward Newport News. 
 What followed was, according to the nar- 
 rative publislied in tlie Baltimore Ameri- 
 can by one who had unusually favorable 
 opportunities of observation, in the order 
 of occurrence given below : 
 
 As soon as the Merrimac was made out 
 and her direction ascertained (says the 
 
 narrative referred to), the crews were beat 
 to quarters on both the Cumberland and 
 Congress, and preparations made for what 
 was felt to be an almost hopeless fight, but 
 the determination to make it as desperate 
 as possible. The Merrimac kept straight 
 on, making, according to the best estimates, 
 about eight miles an hour. As she passed 
 the mouth of Nansemond river, the Con- 
 gress threw the first shot at her, which 
 was immediately answered. The Merri- 
 mac passed the Congress, discharging a 
 broadside at her, — one shell from which 
 killed and disabled every man except one 
 at gun No. Ten, — and kept on toward the 
 Cumberland, which she ajjprOached at full 
 speed, striking her on the port side near 
 th'3 bow, her stem knocking port No. One 
 and the bridle-port into one, whilst her 
 ram, or snout, cut the Cumberland under 
 water. Almost at the moment of collision, 
 the Merrimac discharged from her forward 
 gun an eleven-inch shell. This shell raked 
 the whole gun-deck, killing ten men at 
 gun No. One, among whom was master- 
 mate John Harrington, and cutting off 
 both arms and legs of quarter-gunner 
 Wood. The water rushed in from the hole 
 made below, and in five minutes the ship 
 began to sink by the head. Shell and 
 solid shot from the Cumberland were rained 
 upon the Merrimac as she passed ahead, 
 but the most of them glanced off harm- 
 lessly from the incline of her iron-plated 
 bomb-proof. 
 
 As the Merrimac rounded to and came 
 up, she again raked the Cumberland with 
 a heavy fire. At this fire, sixteen men at 
 gun No. Ten were killed or wounded, and 
 all subsequently carried down in the sink- 
 ing ship. Advancing with increased mo- 
 mentum, the Merrimac now struck the 
 Cumberland on the starboard side, smash- 
 ing her upper works and cutting another 
 hole below the water-line. 
 
 The ill-fated Cumberland now began to 
 rapidly settle, and the scene became most 
 horrible. The cock-pit was filled with the 
 wounded, whom it was found impossible 
 to bring up. The former magazine was 
 under water, but powder v.as still supplied 
 
(JllEAT AND MExMOIlABLE EVENTS. 
 
 791 
 
 from tlie after-magazine, and tlie firing 
 kept steadily up by men who knew that 
 the ship was sinking under them. They 
 worked desperately and unremittingly, and 
 amid the din and horror of the conflict 
 gave cheers for their flag and the Union, 
 which were joined in by the wounded. 
 The decks were slippery with blood, and 
 arms and legs and chunks of flesh were 
 strewed about. The Merrimac laid off at 
 easy point-blank range, discharging her 
 broadsides alternately at the Cumberland 
 and the Congress. The water by this time 
 liad reached the after-magazine of the 
 Ciimborlaud. The men, however, kept at 
 work, and several cases of powder were 
 passed up and the guns kept in play. A 
 
 drowned. When the order was given to 
 cease firing, and to look out for their safety 
 in the best way jjossible, numbers scam- 
 l^ered through the port-holes, whilst others 
 reached the spar-deck by the companion- 
 ways. Some were unable to get out by 
 either of these means, and were carried by 
 the rapidl}'^ sinking ship. 
 
 The Cumberland sank in water nearly to 
 her cross-trees. She went down with her 
 flag still flying, and, for some time after, 
 it might still be seen flying from the mast 
 above the water that overwhelmed the 
 noble ship, — a memento of the bravest, 
 most daring, and 3'et most hopeless defense 
 that was ever made by any vessel belong- 
 ing to any navy in the world. The men 
 
 ^c^^^Ci^f^^ JiZu /^*^^^^ 
 
 number of men in the after shell-room lin- 
 gered there too long in their eagerness to 
 pass up shell and were drowned. 
 
 By this time the water had reached the 
 berth or main gun-deck, and it was felt 
 hopeless and useless to continue the fight 
 longer. The word was given for each man 
 to save himself ; but after this order, gun 
 No. Seven was fired, when the adjoining 
 gun, No. Six, was actually under water. 
 This last shot was fired by an active little 
 fellow named Matthew Tenney, whose 
 courage had been conspicuous throughout 
 the action. As his port was left open by 
 the recoil of the gun, he jumped to scram- 
 ble out, but the water rushed in with so 
 much force that he was washed back and 
 
 fought with a courage that could not be 
 excelled ; there was no flinching, no thought 
 of surrender. The whole number lost, of 
 the Cumberland's crew, was one hundred 
 and twenty. Many of the scenes on board 
 were deeply affecting. Two of the gunners 
 at the bow-guns, when the ship was sink- 
 ing, clasped their guns in their arms, and 
 would not be removed, and went down 
 embracing them. One gunner had both 
 his legs shot away; but he made three 
 steps on his bloody thighs, seized the lan- 
 yard and fired his gun, falling back dead. 
 Wood, who lost both arms and legs, on 
 being offered assistance, cried out, '■^Back 
 to your guns, hoys ! Give 'em fits ! lin ;•- 
 rah for the flag ! " He lived till she sank. 
 
792 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Having tliorouglil}' demolished the Cum- 
 herland, the Merriniac 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 rejilied 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. 
 Final]}', the ship was on fire in so many 
 j)laces, 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- 
 hole, amioiiiiced 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 j^ris- 
 oners whilst the least chance of escai)e 
 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 NewjDort 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 lier 
 companions the Yorktown and James- 
 town,) stood off in the direction of the 
 ]\Iinnesota, which, in trying to reach the 
 scene of action, had run aground, and 
 could not be moved. An exchange of sliot 
 and shell, however, took place between tlie 
 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 tlie 
 next day. The Minnesota wjis at tlie 
 mercy of the Merrimac, and there appeared 
 no reason why the iron monster might not 
 clear the Roads of the whole fleet, and 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 793 
 
 destroy all the stores ami 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 sliin- 
 ing brightly, when, totally unexpected, 
 there came into those blood-<lyed waters, 
 tlie 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 api»earance 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 
 tlie hull of the vessel, and was plated with 
 iron so as to be ball-proof; it projected on 
 ever}' side beyond the lower hull, which 
 contained the machinery. The tower, con- 
 taining two heav}'^ g'^i'iS; 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 ujion 
 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 ]\Ierrimac, 
 was soon to measure her prowess with the 
 latter, in a contest such as liad 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 jNIerrimac, 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 wliat 
 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 Eip Eaps. At 
 
 seven o'clock, a plan seemed to have been 
 adopted, and the JMerrimac 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 AVorden first arrived in the 
 Roads and was informed of what had 
 occurred, though his crew were suffering 
 from, exjiosure and loss of rest from a 
 stormy voyage around from New York, he 
 at once made i^rejiarations for taking part 
 in whatever might take place the next day. 
 To this end, the Monitor moved up, before 
 daylight on Sunday morning, and took a 
 position alongside tlie 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 v.-ater-line. The Merrimac then 
 commenced firing very rapidlj^, 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. 
 
791 
 
 OCR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 At a quarter-past ten o'clock, the IMerri- 
 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 columns 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- 
 ^ mai", moving with the ease of a duck on 
 5 the water. The distance between the ves- 
 £ sels was forty feet. In this circuit, the 
 r Monitor's guns were not idle, as she fired 
 ^ shot after shot into her antagonist, two of 
 s which penetrated the monster's sides. 
 § At eleven, A. m., the Minnesota opened 
 « fire, and assisted the Monitor in engaafinrr 
 s the Merrimac. She fired nine-inch solid 
 g shot with good accuracy, but with appar- 
 % ently little effect. The Merrimac returned 
 g the fire, firing shell, one of which struck 
 % and exploded the boiler of the gun-boat 
 s Dragon, which was alongside the Minne- 
 j sota, endeavoring to get her off. For 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 IMonitor 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 i)arried, as it were, 
 by the ]\Idnitor. 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 ■95 
 
 fight, had the temerit}^ to come within 
 respectable range of the ^lonitor. The 
 latter fired one shot at her, which carried 
 away her pilot-house, and caused hei to lose 
 no time in retiring. 
 
 As the Monitor carried but two gung, 
 whilst the Merriniac 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 ej^es, 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 — 
 
 " Have I saved the Minnesota ? " 
 
 " Yes, and tvhipped the Merrlmac,^^ was 
 the answer. 
 
 " Then I douH care what becomes ofmej" 
 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 Avounded, 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 Norfolk, the INIerrimac 
 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 blew 
 up. 
 
 The loss of two sucti 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 
 
7'JG 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 scene on board tlie Cumberland. Neither 
 the shots of the Congress, nor of tlie 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 the 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 ram 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 INIorris, will you surrender that 
 ship?" 
 
 "Never," said Morris, "sink 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 flying defiantly at the 
 gaff 
 
 Similar was the bravery exhibited on 
 board the ill-fated Congress. The father 
 of the gallant commander of that ship 
 (Lieutenant Jose) h Smith), who lost his 
 life in that terrible encounter, 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 disi^atch 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 
 so uttered, nor ever gave that son to his 
 country Avith 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 ofiicers 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 s]iij)mates, his cheering words 
 of encouragement were still heard. After 
 the engagement, from which he escaped 
 unwounded, his kindness and care in i)ro- 
 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 con - 
 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 797 
 
 Buclianan, "I volunteered my serv- 
 ices to Lieut. Commanding Joseph B. 
 Smith for duty on either of the upper 
 decks, although the rebel steamer Mer- 
 riniac 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. 
 
XCIIL 
 
 BATTLE OF ANTIETAM, MD.— 1862. 
 
 Bloodiest Day Tliat 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. — Keno'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-enforcements. — McClellan's 
 Memorable Reply. — Driving the Enemy en masse. — Forty of their Colors Taken. — The Afier-Scene 
 of Horror. 
 
 " Our forces »1ppt that ni?ht coTlt{ue^'^ra on a field won by their valor, and covered with the dead and wounded of the enemy."— Gew- 
 BBAL McClbllan'8 Official Kei-uki. 
 
 EAVY and melancholy as was the loss of life 
 attending the bloody battle of Aaitietam, 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 di.'jpatch, 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 has 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 year, was to possess 
 
 BURVI.NG THE DEAD AT ANTIETAM. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORAliLE EVENTS. 
 
 7U9 
 
 himself of Harper's Ferry, as the base of 
 future aiul more important operations. To 
 this eiul, the confederate forces under Gen- 
 erals Jackson, Longstreet, and Hill, en- 
 tered Frederick, Md., in the early part of 
 September, 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 Potoniac, they 
 interposed in force between the confeder- 
 ates and the fords b}' 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 Marj^- 
 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 loth. Colonel Miles, 
 commander at Harper's Ferrj^, ordered the 
 white flag to be raised, to General Jackson ; 
 a few moments after, he w^as 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 imiiiediately paroled. The i>osses- 
 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 pursxiit was kept up by the fed- 
 eral army, 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 arrangements for giving 
 battle to the opposing liosts. 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 corjjs, became engaged in a sharp 
 contest with the enemj^, 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, unhappilj', 
 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, penetrated 
 the woods in front of Hooker's and Mans- 
 
800 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 field's troops. French and Richardson 
 were placed to the left of Sedgwick, thus 
 attacking the enemy toward their left 
 center. Crawford's and Sedgwick's lines, 
 however, yielded to a destructive fire of 
 masses of the enemy in the woods, and, 
 suffering 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 swept 
 
 over the ground just lost, but now permji- 
 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 Richardson. 
 
 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 heavily, 
 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 Rohr- 
 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 ritle-pits and breast- 
 works of rails and stones. These, together 
 with the woods, were filled with the enemy's 
 infantry, 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 on 
 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 enemy earlier in the afternoon. 
 
 Of these brilliant movements, thus so 
 briefly referred to by General McClellan, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 801 
 
 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 vigorouslj^, 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- 
 
 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 rebel 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 went, swept like an avalanche 
 through the cornfields, fell upon the woods, 
 cleared them in ten minutes, and held 
 them. They were not again retaken. 
 51 
 
 The field and its ghastly harvest which 
 the reaper had gathered in these fatal 
 hours finally remained with us. 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-toj^, 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- 
 public 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 
 
802 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ".■':i;.ifc!i!i 
 
 il„, ^" I 
 
 mm 
 
 from the road. His guns opening first 
 from this 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 hill-side. 
 Underneath was a tumult of wagons, 
 guns, horses, and men fl^'ing 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 lill was carried, but could it be 
 held ? The rebel columns, before seen 
 moving to the left, increased their jjace. 
 The guns, on the hill above, sent an 
 angry 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 aboA'e them, moves 
 swiftly down in the most perfect order, 
 and though met by incessant discharges 
 of musketry, of which we jilainly 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 ; they will not 
 give way before a bayonet charge in line. 
 The rebels think twice before they dash 
 into these hostile masses. There 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. lie sees clearly enough that 
 Burnside is pressed — needs no messen- 
 ger to tell him that. His face grows 
 darker with anxious thought. Look- 
 
GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 803 
 
 ing down into the valley, where fifteen 
 thousand troops are lying, he turns a half- 
 questioning look on Fitz John Porter, 
 who stands by 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 
 
 GENERAL "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 war. 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 him 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 half 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 halted 
 instead of pushing on ; their vindictive can- 
 nonade died away as the light faded. Be- 
 fore it was quite dark, the battle was over. 
 
 With the day, (says the official report of 
 the commanding general,) closed this 
 memorable battle, in wdiich, 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 Moodiest day 
 that America ever satv, 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 they lay in piles where 
 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 
 
804 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 from Sharpsburg to Hagerstown, that 
 night, it required the greatest care to keep 
 one's horse from trampling upon the dead, 
 so thickly were they strewn around. Along 
 the line for not more than a single mile, at 
 least one thousand five 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 14th 
 and 17th amounted to fourteen thousand 
 seven hundred and ninety-four. Of the 
 confederates killed, about three thousand 
 were buried by the unionists, and their 
 
 t^l^^C^^n 
 
 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 day, fearing no danger, and 
 appearing to be everywhere at the same 
 time. Safe up 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 by 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 officers at this calamit}"^ 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 w^as 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 oat 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 805 
 
 unionists from the front, tlie 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, incidents 
 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 tlie 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 up 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?" 
 The 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 enem3^ 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 knew 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 his horse, in 
 advance of my whole staff ; and 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 
 
806 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 come 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 
 fight, till I was carried from the ground." 
 " His name. General ? " asked Mr. Wilkes. 
 "He was a young man, rec "*ly from 
 college, named George W. jmalley, 
 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, Cony in g- 
 ham. Coffin, Browne, Tajdor, Bickham, 
 Crounse, Colburn, Davis, Reid, and some 
 others. 
 
XCIY. 
 
 PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION, AS A WAR MEAS- 
 URE, BY PRESIDENT LINCOLN.— 1863, 
 
 More than Three Millions, in Bondage at the South, Declared Forever Free. — Most Important Amer- 
 ican State Paper Since July 4th, 1776. — Pronounced, b}' the President, " the Great Event of the 
 Nineteenth Century." — The Wiiole System of Slavery Finally Swept from the Republic, by Vic- 
 tories in the 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 of Events. — The Great Exigency at Last — Slavery i^ersus 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 Reason for Delay. — Mr. Lin- 
 coln's Vow to God. — Waiting for a Union Triumph. — Decided by the Battle of Antietam. — Final 
 Adoption of the Measure. — Mr. Carpenter's Admirable Narrative. — Public Reception of the Procla- 
 mation. — Promulgation at the South. — Scenes of Joy Among the Freedmen. — Enfranchisement 
 Added to Freedom. 
 
 " And upon this act, sincerely believed to be an act of justice, warranted by the Constitution, upon military necessity, I invoke the con- 
 mderate judgment of mankind, and tlie gracious favor of Almighty God."— The Pkoclamation. 
 
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 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. When, early 
 in the war. General Premont 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 later. General Hunter attempted military 
 
808 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 emancipation, I again forbade it, because 
 I did not yet think the indispensable 
 necessit}^ had come. When, in March and 
 May and July, 1862, I made earnest and 
 successive apj)eals 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- 
 ])li.shed 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 to 
 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 plenar}'^ 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, fii'st by Murillo, the 
 Spanish general, and subsequentlj'^ by 
 Bolivar, the American general, in each case 
 as a military act, and observed and main- 
 tained to this day. 
 
 Though the great American Proclama- 
 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 have 
 put forth about its utmost efforts, and he 
 really didn't know what more to do, unless 
 he did this. Accordinglj^, he prepared a pre- 
 liminai-y proclamation, nearly in the form 
 in which it subsequently appeared, called 
 the cabinet together, and read it to them, 
 with the following result, as rej^orted: 
 
 Mr. Montgomery Blair was startled. 
 " If you issue that proclamation, Mr. Pres- 
 ident," he exclaimed, "j^ou will lose every 
 one of the fall elections." 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 809 
 
 Mr. Seward, on the other hand, said, "I 
 approve of it, Mr, President, just as it 
 stands. I approve of it in principle, and 
 I approve the policy of issuing it. I only 
 ohject 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 be 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_<xkK>^.<^iAyv mXJa/vJ 
 
 \yO'\'><^ 
 
 executing that unrivaled masterpiece of 
 American historical painting — the Procla- 
 mation 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 author of that proclamation, the infor- 
 mation which he 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 very 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 you do your sketch for a picture, wait- 
 ing for a victory. Prom 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 Bvill 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 px;blished 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 Free ; and the Executive Govern- 
 ment of the United States, including the 
 military and naval authority thereof, Avill 
 recognize 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 words 
 "and maintain.'" I replied that I had 
 already considered the import of that ex- 
 
810 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 pression in this connection, but I had not 
 introduced it, because it was not my way 
 to promise what I was not entirely sirre 
 that I could perform, and I was not pre- 
 pared to say that I thouglit 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 the 22d of Sep- 
 tember and the 1st of January." 
 
 bany, IST. 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 cliief 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 
 iineven. "Not," said he, "because of any 
 uncertainty or hesitation on my part ; but 
 it was just after the public reception, and 
 
 f^y/AZyO?.UZ.(TUn^ 
 
 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 mo," continues 
 Mr. Carpenter, " several sheets of the same, 
 saying, ' There, I believe, is some of the 
 very paper which was used — if not, it Avas, 
 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- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 811 
 
 cipation was not opposed b}' some mem- 
 bers of tbe cabinet, the president replied: 
 *' Nothing more than I have stated to 3011. 
 Mr. Bhiir thouglit we should lose the fall 
 elections, and opposed it on that ground 
 onl}'." " I have understood," said Mr. 
 Carpenter, "that Secretary Smith was not 
 in favor of your action. Mr. Blair told me 
 that, when the meeting closed, he and the 
 secretary of the interior Avent away to- 
 gether, and that the latter said to him, 
 that if the president carried out that pol- 
 io}', he might count on losing Indiana, 
 sure ! " ''He never said anything of the 
 kind to me," responded the president. 
 " And Avhat is Mr. Blair's opinion now ? " 
 I asked. " Oh," was the j^rompt 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 polic}', 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 embodying 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, 
 and to historv. 
 
 Mr, Carpenter also makes an interesting 
 statement touching the religious aspect of 
 Mr. 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 — cmd 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. Mr. Lincoln 
 replied : " I made a solemn vow before 
 God, that if General Lee was driven back 
 from Pennsylvania, I would crown the 
 result 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 j)roud to 
 have been the artist to have first conceived 
 the design of painting a picture commem- 
 orative of the Act of Emancii:)ation ; 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 cent^iryT 
 
 The scope of this most important state 
 paper ever issued since the Declaration of 
 Independence, was, to give liberty to more 
 than three millions of people, — a number 
 equal to the whole population of the 
 
812 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVP^NTS. 
 
 813 
 
 United States when tlie revolutionary 
 struggle with Great Britain commenced, 
 and about four-tifths 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 Libert}-,' '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 the 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, gathering 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, " Wliat 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 scroll 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 
 
814 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 thousands, turned out en viasse, and by 
 processions, speeches, hymns and songs of 
 jubilation, and by 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 you 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 Royal, 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 ones had told them it was a 
 trap to force them into the arm}' ; 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 
 da}', 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 libert}' and pro- 
 tection had thus come. An original ode 
 was then sung to the tune of ' Scots Avha' 
 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 company, 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 exercises 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 
 
 815 
 
 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 had 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 18G3. The fol- 
 lowing letter accompanied the gift: 
 
 Executive Mansion, 
 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, you 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 cop}'' 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. 
 
 Eesolved, 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, when 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 shall have power to 
 enforce this article by approjiriate 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 
 
816 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 states of North Carolina, West Virginia, 
 Massachusetts, Wisconsin, Maine, Louisi- 
 ana, Michigan, South Carolina, Pennsyl- 
 vania, Arkansas, Connecticut, 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 
 that 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 
 sa}^, withhold no legal privilege of advance- 
 ment to the new citizens." So great an 
 gvent 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. 
 
XCY. 
 
 CAMPAIGN AGAINST YICKSBURG, " THE GIBRALTAR OF 
 THE MISSISSIPPI," BY THE UNION FORCES.— 1863. 
 
 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 MoPiierson Receives the Formal Surrender. — Thirty-seven Thousand 
 Prisoners, Fifteen Generals, Arms and Munitions for Sixty 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 Vicksburg. — 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 tlie Forty-fifth Illinois. — Their Colors Surmount the Work. — Pember- 
 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 of flight, 
 None of retreat, no unbecoming deed 
 That argued tear; each one himself relitl 
 As only in his arm the moment lay 
 Of Victory I " 
 
 OPERATIONS AT VICK8BUBG. 
 
 52 
 
 OUAVES, infantry, cavalry, artillery — offi- 
 cers and privates — picket, scout, and spy, — 
 brave legions, led on by brave generals of 
 rj^ heroic purpose to noblest deeds, — won glo- 
 rious honor to American arms, and to the 
 still more sacred cause of the American Union, 
 by 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 fourtli of July, filled the 
 hearts of all loyal 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 years 
 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 
 
81« 
 
 OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 capitulation of the place under General 
 Pemberton 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 corj)s, — the Thir- 
 teenth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seven- 
 teenth, commanded respectively by Gen- 
 erals McCIernand, 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 j^ersonal 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 
 Creek, 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 is 
 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 
 escape 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, i;ntil 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 valleys, 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 of the 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 819 
 
 shovels, a way was dug into one fort, and 
 through the breach the boys walked 
 bravely in. The lirst 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 officers 
 were killed and many more wounded. 
 Colonel Dollins, of the Eighty-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 Tuttle, on the right, were also vigor- 
 ously engaged, the loss sustained by the 
 former being considerable. 
 
 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 systematic 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, impatiently 
 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 kejDt up an incessant fire from the 
 whole line of their works. 
 
 At length all was in readiness ; the fuse 
 train was fired, and 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 sjyectacle 
 is seldom witnessed. 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 hope 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 
 Avell engaged than the rest of Leggett's 
 brigade joined them and entered into the 
 struggle. The regiments relieving each 
 other at intervals, the contest now grew 
 
820 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 aji2>eared vpon the 
 sumviit of the icork ! The position was 
 gained. Cheer after cheer 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. Relief was nec- 
 essary. Accordingly, another Illinois reg- 
 iment was 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 
 p hotly engaged in the fort, the Twenty-third 
 Indiana followed its first detachment into 
 the sap, from which place they were to 
 [l 53 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 artillery 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- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 821 
 
 iiig over, exploded in the midst of the 
 opposing forces bej^ond. The scene at this 
 time was one of the utmost sublimity. 
 The roar of artillery, rattle of small 
 arms, the cheers of the men, flashes of 
 light, wreaths of pale blue smoke over dif- 
 ferent parts of the field, the bursting of 
 shells, the fierce whistle of solid shot, the 
 deep boom of the mortars, the broadsides 
 of the ships of war, and, added to all this, 
 the vigorous replies of the confederates, 
 set up a din which beggared all powers of 
 description. 
 
 After the possession of the confederate 
 fort was no longer in doubt, the pioneer 
 federal corps mounted the work with their 
 shovels and set to throwing up earth vig- 
 orously, in order to secure space for artil- 
 lery. A most fortunate peculiarity — for 
 the union army — in the explosion, was the 
 manner in which the earth was thrown 
 out. The appearance of the place was 
 that of a funnel, with heav}^ sides running 
 up to the very crest of the parapet, afford- 
 ing admirable protection not only for the 
 union troops and pioneers, but turned out 
 a ready made fortification in the rough, 
 which, with a slight application of the 
 shovel and pick, was ready to receive the 
 guns to be used at this point. 
 
 The capture of Vicksburg was now a 
 foregone conclusion, admitted even by its 
 devoted defenders themselves, as appeared 
 from the contents of a confederate mail- 
 bag, captured just at this time. At about 
 eight o'clock, therefore, on the morning of 
 July 3d, flags of truce appeared before 
 General Smith's front, when General 
 Bowen and Colonel Montgomery were led 
 blindfolded into the union lines. They 
 bore a sealed communication from General 
 Pemberton to General Grant, in which the 
 former proposed an armistice, with a view 
 to arranging terms for the capitulation of 
 Vicksburg — three commissioners to be 
 appointed from each army, for this pur- 
 pose. General Pemberton added that he 
 made this proposition to save the further 
 effusion of blood, and feeling himself fully 
 able to maintain his position for a yet 
 indefinite period. 
 
 To this document. General Grant made 
 immediate reply, assuring General Pem- 
 berton that the effusion of blood could at 
 any time be avoided by an xinconditional 
 surrender of the city and garrison — that 
 men who had shown so much endurance 
 and courage as those in Vicksburg would 
 be treated with all the respect due them as 
 prisoners of war by their adversary, — and 
 concluded by informing General Pember- 
 ton that he did not favor the appointment 
 of commissioners to arrange for a capitula- 
 tion, as he had no other terms than those 
 just indicated. 
 
 General Pemberton then solicited a per- 
 sonal interview, which was acceded to by 
 General Grant, and appointed for three 
 o'clock p. M., General Pemberton's mes- 
 sengers returning with the answer at 
 eleven A. M. At three o'clock precisely, 
 one gun, the prearranged signal, was 
 fired, and immediately replied to by the 
 confederates. General Pemberton then 
 made his appearance on the works in 
 McPherson's front, under a white flag, 
 considerably on the left of Fort Hill. 
 General Grant rode through the union 
 trenches until he came to an outlet, lead- 
 ing to a small green space, which had not 
 been trod by either army. Here the party 
 halted, until General Pemberton appeared, 
 accompanied by General Bowen and 
 Colonel Montgomery. Thousands of sol- 
 diers looked upon this strange scene. Two 
 men, who had been lieutenants in the 
 same regiment in Mexico, now met as foes, 
 with all the world, in a certain sense, 
 looking upon them. When they had ap- 
 proached within a few feet. Colonel Mont- 
 gomery said — 
 
 "General Grant, General Pemberton." 
 
 They shook hands and greeted each, 
 other familiarly, Pemberton remarking, 
 playfully, " I was at Monterey and Buena 
 Vista. We had terms and conditions 
 there." 
 
 It was beneath the outspreading 
 branches of a gigantic oak that the confer- 
 ence of the generals took place. Here 
 presented the only space which had not 
 been used for some purpose or other by 
 
822 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the contending hosts. The gi-ound was 
 covered with a fresh, luxuriant verdure ; 
 here and there a shrub or clump of bushes 
 could be seen standing out from the green 
 growth on the surface, while several oaks 
 filled up the scene, and gave it character. 
 Some of the trees in their tops exhibited 
 the effects of flying projectiles, by the loss 
 of limbs or torn foliage, and in their 
 trunks the indentations of smaller missiles 
 plainly marked the occurrences to which 
 they had been silent witnesses. The party 
 made up to take part in the conference 
 was composed as follows : Major-Generals 
 Grant and McPherson, and Brigadier-Gen- 
 eral Smith, of the union army; and Lieu- 
 tenant-General Pemberton, Major-General 
 Bowen, and Colonel IVIontgomery, of the 
 confederate army. It was not long before 
 the momentous business which brought 
 the party together was begun by General 
 Pemberton saying — 
 
 GENERAL J. B. MCPHERSON. 
 
 " General Grant, I meet you in order to 
 arrange terms for the capitulation of the 
 city of Vicksburg and its garrison. What 
 terms do you propose ? " 
 
 " Unconditional surrender^" was the 
 reply. 
 
 "Unconditional surrender?" repeated 
 General Pemberton; "Never, so long as I 
 have a man left nie ! I will fight rather." 
 
 " Then, sir," rejoined General Grant, 
 " you can continue the defense. My army 
 has never been in a better condition for 
 the prosecution of the siege." 
 
 During the passing of these few prelim- 
 inaries, General Grant manifested all his 
 
 natural self-possession, and evinced not 
 the least sign of embarrassment ; and after 
 a short conversation standing, the two 
 generals, as by a kind of mutual tendency, 
 wandered off from the rest of the party 
 and seated themselves on the grass, in a 
 cluster of bushes, where alone they talked 
 over the important events then pending. 
 Here they sat more than an hour. Pem- 
 berton played with the grass and pulled 
 leaves. Grant, as usual, talked coolly, 
 occasionally giving a few puffs at his favor- 
 ite companion — his black cigar. Gener- 
 als McPherson, Smith, and Bowen, and 
 Colonel Montgomery, imitating the exam- 
 ple of the commanding generals, seated 
 themselves at some distance off, while the 
 respective staffs of the generals formed 
 another and larger group in the rear. 
 After a lengthy conversation the generals 
 separated. General Pemberton did not 
 come to any conclusion on the matter, but 
 stated his intention to submit the matter 
 to a council of general officers of his com- 
 mand ; and, in the event of their assent, 
 the surrender of the city should be made 
 in the morning. Until morning was given 
 him to consider and determine upon the 
 matter, and send in his final reply. The 
 generals then rode to their respective 
 quarters. It was, however, agreed that 
 General Grant should confer with his offi- 
 cers, and transmit, in writing, to General 
 Pemberton, the terms he would accept. 
 Promptly the note was sent by the hands 
 of General Logan and Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Wilson. It demanded, as from the first, 
 the entire surrender of the place, the gar- 
 rison, and the stores. " On your accepting 
 the terms proposed," General Grant's note 
 stated, " I will march in one division as a 
 guard, and take possession at eight o'clock 
 to-morrow morning. As soon as paroles 
 can be made out, and signed by the officers 
 and men, you will be allowed to march out 
 of our lines, the officers taking with them 
 their regimental clothing, and staff, field, 
 and cavalry officers one horse each. The 
 rank and file will be allowed all their 
 clothing, but no other property." 
 
 Early the next morning, the glorious 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 823 
 
 Fourth of July, Genei-al Pemberton's reply 
 was returned. He accepted the terms on 
 condition that his troops should be per- 
 mitted to march out with their colors and 
 arms, stacking them outside of their works. 
 To this, Grant made no objection. 
 
 In his account of the grand closing 
 scene in this momentous military transac- 
 tion, Mr. Keim states that it \vas about 
 one o'clock p. m., before matters had as- 
 sumed such a state of completion as would 
 admit of the entrance of the city by the 
 union army. To General McPherson teas 
 accorded the honor of form ally receiving 
 the stipulated surrender. He met Pem- 
 berton half a mile within the lines, where 
 they were soon joined by Grant, and all, 
 after a few minutes' parley, rode together 
 into town. Upon arriving at the court- 
 house, the troops were drawn up in line, 
 facing the building, and the national en- 
 sign raised from its towering dome. This 
 done, the ceremony of possession was com- 
 pleted by the display of the flags of the 
 Porty-fifth Illinois infantry, and of the 
 head-quarters of the Seventeenth corps. 
 Upon the appearance of the flags, the 
 troops joined in singing '' Rally Round 
 the Flag,''^ with tumultuous enthusiasm, 
 and cheered vociferously — making the city 
 ring and echo to its very suburbs. In 
 consideration of the active part taken by 
 the Seventeenth corps in the campaign 
 
 which culminated in the capture of Vicks- 
 burg, that command was designated by 
 General Grant to take possession of the 
 city. No sooner was the flag thrown to 
 the breeze from the court-house, than the 
 admiral's glass caught sight of its beauti' 
 ful folds, and in due time his vesseJ 
 steamed down to the city, followed by all 
 the gun-boats in the neighborhood, and 
 took possession of a few feet of river front. 
 All this was duly done, after the authority 
 of the army of the United States was 
 secured be^'ond doubt. 
 
 Rarely if ever before was such a Pourth 
 of July celebrated as this of 1863. The 
 tidings of the victories of Gettysburg and 
 Vicksburg mingled together, and in every 
 part of the loyal north enthusiastic demon- 
 strations of joy were indulged in. On the 
 fifteenth of July, President Lincoln issued 
 a proclamation appointing August sixth as 
 a day of national thanksgiving. 
 
 The result of this memorable campaign 
 and siege, as stated by General Grant, 
 was, ' the defeat of the confederates in five 
 battles outside of Vicksburg ; the occupa- 
 tion of Jai-kson, the capital of Mississippi ; 
 a loss to the confederate army of thirty- 
 seven thousand prisoners, among whom 
 were fifteen general officers — and at least 
 ten thousand killed and wounded, and 
 among the killed Generals Tracy, Tilgh- 
 man, and Green, and hundreds, perhaps 
 
824 
 
 OUR PIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 thousands, of stragglers, who can never be 
 collected and reorganized. Arms and 
 munitions of war for an army of sixty- 
 thousand men have fallen into our hands ; 
 besides a large amount of other public 
 property, consisting of railroads, locomo- 
 tives, cars, steam-boats, cotton, etc' The 
 losses of the union army were about one 
 thousand killed and a little more than 
 seven thousand wounded — about one-half 
 of them only slightly, and between five 
 and six hundred missing. 
 
 In all respects, the campaign resulting 
 in the capture of Vicksburg was one of the 
 most skillful in the annals of military 
 strategy, and has justly been pronounced 
 unequaled in brilliancy of conception and 
 the masterly tact with which it was exe- 
 cuted. One specially grand feature in the 
 result was, that by silencing the confeder- 
 ate batteries that had so long controlled 
 the Mississippi, that most majestic river 
 on the globe was again thrown open for 
 the unrestricted commerce of the United 
 States from Cairo to the Gulf — or, as 
 President Lincoln expressed it, ' The 
 Father of Waters again goes unvexed to 
 the sea.' 
 
 One of the most interesting chapters in 
 the history of this campaign is that con- 
 tained in a narrative of General Grant's 
 interview with his friend Mr. Dubois, of 
 Illinois, the facts of which, as given some 
 time after in the public journals, were as 
 follows : 
 
 Early in April, 1863, Generals Grant, 
 Sherman, and Oglesby, Secretary of State 
 Hatch, and Auditor Jesse R. Dubois, of 
 Illinois, with some others, were on board 
 the flagship of Commodore Porter's squad- 
 ron, the party having been up the Yazoo 
 river to Haines's Bluff, on a reconnoisance 
 of the fortifications. While the other 
 gentlemen were in the cabin, discussing 
 public questions. General Grant and his 
 friend Dubois withdrew, and being in 
 company together on the deck, the follow- 
 ing conversation, in substance, ensued. 
 General Grant said — 
 
 " Uncle Jesse, to tell you the truth, I 
 have come to my wit's end as regards the 
 
 capture of Vicksburg. I really do not 
 know what next move to make. I have 
 tried everything I could think of, and here 
 we are yet. I have been advised that we 
 go back to Memphis, and commence an 
 overland march from that point." 
 
 " General Grant, you cannot do that. 
 If you take this army back to Memphis, 
 with all this array of gun-boats and trans- 
 ports and all your material of war, the 
 effect will be disastrous on the country. 
 . . . . If you can do no better, 3'ou 
 must storm Vicksburg. If it costs the 
 lives of forty thousand men, it must be 
 taken. It is a terrible thing to think of, 
 but it must be done." 
 
 General Grant replied that he would 
 reflect upon the matter during the night, 
 and let Mr. Dubois know of his determin- 
 ation in the morning. When the morning 
 came, General Grant said — 
 
 " Uncle Jesse, you are going home to- 
 day ; tell Governor Yates and the people 
 of Illinois for me, that I will take Vicks- 
 burg in sixty days." 
 
 " General Grant, I am glad to hear you 
 say this ; but all I ask you will allow me 
 to tell them is, that you will take Vicks- 
 burg, — I don't care whether in sixty days 
 or six months." 
 
 " I am bound to take it. I have decided 
 on my plans. I will not tell you what 
 they are. Even with the best intentions, 
 you might disclose them to the detriment 
 of the movement." 
 
 They then parted, and General Grant 
 detailed his plan to General Sherman, who 
 protested in writing, but jilaced himself 
 under the general's orders. 
 
 Auditor Dubois went home and told 
 Governor Yates that Grant would take 
 Vicksburg ; that he had no doubt of it ; 
 that General Grant told him to tell him 
 so, and that he must tell it to the people 
 as coming from General Grant. This 
 promise of General Grant was published 
 in the papers at the time, and Governor 
 Yates repeated it from the stump. 
 
 Not the least interesting incidents in 
 connection with this matter, in view of the 
 final result, are, the written protest by 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 825 
 
 General Sherman against General Grant's 
 circuitous march around Vicksburg, and 
 by which he cut himself off from his base 
 of supplies ; General Sherman's direction 
 that the protest be forwarded to Washing- 
 ton, and General Grant's never so forward- 
 ing it; and afterward, when Vicksburg 
 was about to surrender, the tearing up of 
 said protest, by General Grant, in General 
 Sherman's presence, much to the satisfac- 
 tion of the latter. 
 
 A more humorous incident, and which 
 will bear to be repeated, was that which 
 transpired in the presence of President 
 
 Lincoln, to whom complaint had been 
 made that General Grant was in the habit 
 of using intoxicating drinks to excess. 
 "So I understand Grant drinks whiskey to 
 excess ? " interrogatively remarked the 
 president. " Yes," was the reply. " What 
 whiskey does he drink?" inquired Mr. 
 Lincoln. " What whiskey ? " doubtfully 
 queried his hearers. " Yes. Is it Bour- 
 bon or Monongahela ? " " "Wliy do you 
 ask, Mr. President?" "Because, if it 
 makes him win victories like this at Vicks- 
 burg, I will senvl a demijohn of the same 
 kind to every general in the army." 
 
XCYI. 
 
 THREE DAYS' BATTLE BETWEEN" THE CONCENTRATED 
 
 ARMIES OF GENERALS MEADE AND LEE, AT 
 
 GETTYSBURG, PA.— 1863. 
 
 Overwhelming Invasion of Pennsylvania by the Confederate Forces. — The Union Army Drives Them 
 with Great Slaughter Across the Potomac. — 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. — Consterna- 
 tion 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 Movements. — Severe Reverses on Both Sides. — Carnage at Cemetery 
 Hill. — Longstreet's Furious Onset. — Most Destructive Cannonade. — Gettysburg a Vast Hospital. — 
 Crawford's Grand Charge — Standing by the Batteries ! — Hand-to-Hand Conflict. — Following the 
 Battle-Flag. — Deadly and Im^ietuous Fighting. — Forty one Confederate Standards Taken. — Un- 
 bounded Joy of the Victors. — President Lincoln's Announcement. 
 
 " this day hath made 
 
 Much work for tears in many a hapless mother. 
 Whose 80UB lie scattered on the bleeding ground." 
 
 EE'S vast and powerful army liad long waited, with eager and restless 
 
 expectation, for the order of march from their chieftain which should 
 
 r ,^ enable them to transfer the seat of civil war 
 
 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, an(^ 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 loyal 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 Reynolds, and subsequently under 
 
 MEADE'S HEAD-Q0ARTERS. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 827 
 
 General Doubleclay ; second, under Gen- 
 eral Hancock; third, under General Sick- 
 les ; fifth, under General Sykes ; 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 Rej'nolds 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 eneni}^ 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 w^ere 
 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 artillery 
 contest, the infantry on both sides crouch- 
 ing behind fences and trees and in rifle- 
 pits. The federal soldiers in the cemetery 
 
 laid many of the tombstones on the ground 
 to prevent injury, so that many escaped. 
 There was but little infantrj' 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 ferocity, 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 capture 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 wished 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 
 
828 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 abandoned accoutrements, lay there. The 
 frightened inhabitants 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 very shot or shell. 
 
 Of the :;tirring 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 valley. Enough 
 dead bodies lay 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, in every portion of the federal line, 
 the cannon were directed toward the valley 
 in front of the cemetery. All were read}'. 
 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. From the woods of short, scrubby 
 timber and the rocks near the seminary, 
 there rose a yell. It ivas a long, loud, 
 unremitting, hideous screech, from tliou' 
 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 confederates 
 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 
 ])ushed up the hill and across the second 
 line of works. The fire became hotter. 
 The fight swayed back and forth. One 
 moment the confederates Avould beat the 
 railings of the cemetery; then a rush 
 from the federal side would drive them 
 down into the valley. Then, with one of 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 829 
 
 their horrid screeches, they 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 slain there. Sev- 
 eral attemi)ts were made to tal:c 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 said to have been 
 driven. They made an attack and were 
 repulsed, and, after renewed attempts, 
 feeling that '■ 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, and 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 cemetery. 
 They had but few cannon ; and though 
 they resisted some time, they finally re- 
 treated from the edge of the hill and aban- 
 doned the seminary. The federal troops 
 did not chase them. The land back of the 
 seminary 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 Gettysburg 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 
 sadl}' m 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- 
 trenchments. 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 places 
 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 ; every 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 by 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 
 
830 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTURY.-1776-1876. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 831 
 
 confederates in a dark mass, across the 
 wheat tield, 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, 
 rushed 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 confederate 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 already de- 
 scribed, is that given by Mr. Whitelaw Reid, 
 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 Emmettsburg 
 road, with infantrj'- 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 hold his position at every 
 hazard short of sheer annihilation, till a 
 couple more batteries could be brought to 
 his support. Reserving his fire a little, 
 then with depressed guns opening with 
 double charges of grape and canister, he 
 smote and shattered, but could not break 
 the advancing line. His grape and canis- 
 ter became exhausted, and still, closing 
 grandly 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-defying line, 
 and still he held his position. They got 
 ■within six paces of the guns — he fired 
 again. Once more, and he blew devoted 
 soldiers from their very muzzles. And, 
 
 still mindful of that solemn order, he held 
 his place ; they spring upon his carriages, 
 and shoot his horses ! And then, his 
 Yankee artillerists still about him, he 
 seized the guns by hand, and from the 
 very front of that line dragged two of them 
 off. The caissons were farther back — five 
 out of the six are saved. That single c<xnr 
 pany, in that half hour's fight, lost thirty- 
 three of its men, including every sergeant 
 it had, and the captain himself was 
 wounded. Yet it was the first time it was 
 ever under fire. So they fought along 
 that fiery line ! The confederates now 
 poured ujDon Phillijjs's battery, and it, too, 
 was forced to drag off the pieces by hand 
 when the horses were shot down. From a 
 new position, it opened again ; and at last 
 the two re-enforcing batteries came up on 
 the gallop. An enfilading fire swept the 
 confederate line ; Sickles's gallant infantry 
 charged, the confederate line swept back 
 on a refluent tide — the unionists regained 
 their lost ground, and every gun they had 
 just lost in this splendid fight. 
 
 Mr. Reid, as an eye witness, character- 
 izes the sanguinary struggle at four o'clock 
 as the great, desperate, and final charge. 
 The confederates seemed to have gathered 
 up all their strength and desperation for 
 one fierce, convulsive effort, that should 
 sweep over and wash out all resistance. 
 They swept up as before ; the flower of 
 their army to the front — victory staked 
 upon the issue. In some places, they lit- 
 erally lifted up and pushed back the union 
 lines ; but, that terrible ' position ' of the 
 federals ! — wherever they entered it, enfi- 
 lading fires from half a score of crests 
 swept away their columns like merest 
 chaff. Broken and hurled back, they 
 easily became prisoners ; and on the center 
 and left, the last half hour brought more 
 prisoners than all the rest. So it was 
 along the whole line ; but it was on the 
 second corps that the flower of the confed- 
 erate army was concentrated ; it was there 
 that the heaviest shock beat upon, and 
 shook, and even sometimes crumbled, the 
 federal line. The federals had some shal- 
 low rifle-pits, with barricades of rails from 
 
832 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the fences. The confederate line, stretch- 
 ing away miles to the left, in magnificent 
 array, but strongest here, — Pickett's splen- 
 did division of Longstreet's corps in front, 
 the best of A. P. Hill's veterans in support 
 — came steadily, and as it seemed resist- 
 lessly, sweeping up. The federal skir- 
 mishers retired slowly from the Emmetts- 
 burg road, holding their ground tenaciously 
 to the last. The confederates reserved 
 their fire till they reached this same Em- 
 mettsburg road, then opened with a ter- 
 rific crash. From a hundred iron throats, 
 meantime, their artillery had been thun- 
 dering on the union barricades. Hancock 
 was wounded; Gibbon succeeded to the 
 command — approved soldier, and ready for 
 
 mere machine strength of their combined 
 action — swept the confederates on. The 
 federal thin line could fight, but it had not 
 weight enough to oppose to this momen- 
 tum. It was pushed behind the guns. 
 Right on came the confederates. They 
 were upon the guns — were bayoneting the 
 gunners — were waving their flags above 
 the federal pieces. But they had pene- 
 trated to the fatal point. A storm of 
 grape and canister tore its way from man 
 to man, and marked its track with corpses 
 straight down their line ! They had ex- 
 posed themselves to the enfilading fire of 
 the guns on the western slope of Cemetery 
 Hill ; that exposure sealed their fate. The 
 line reeled back — disjointed already — in 
 
 ^\SJwa*/>^o 
 
 the crisis. As the tempest of fire ap- 
 proached its height, he walked along the 
 line, and renewed his orders to the men to 
 reserve their fire. The confederates — 
 three lines deep — came steadily up. They 
 were in point-blank range. At last the 
 order came! From thrice six thousand 
 guns, there came a sheet of smoky flame, 
 a crash, a rush of leaden death. The line 
 literally melted away ; but there came the 
 second, resistless still. It had been the 
 unionists' supreme effort — on the instant, 
 they were not equal to another. Up to 
 the rifle-pits, across them, over the barri- 
 cades — the momentum of their charge, the 
 
 an instant in fragments. The union 
 troops were just behind the guns. They 
 leaped forward upon the disordered mass ; 
 but there was little need for fighting now. 
 A regiment threw down its arms, and, 
 with colors at its head, rushed over and 
 surrendered. All along the field, smaller 
 detachments did the same. Webb's bri- 
 gade brought in eight hundred ; Gibbon's 
 old division took fifteen stand of colors. 
 Over the fields, the escaped fragments of 
 the charging line fell back — the battle 
 there was over. A single brigade, Har- 
 row's, came out with fifty-four less officers, 
 and seven hundred and ninety-three less 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 833 
 
 men (the Seventh Micliigan regiment was 
 of this brigade,) than it took in. So the 
 ■whole cor[)s fought — so too they fought 
 farther down the hue. It was fruitless 
 sacritice. They gathered up their bi'oken 
 fragments, formed their lines, and slowly 
 marched away. It was not a rout, it was 
 a bitter, crushing defeat. 
 
 Among the individual instances of brav- 
 ery narrated of this terrible combat be- 
 tween the two great armies, that of Henry 
 Shaler, of Indianapolis, will bear repeti- 
 tion, for he seems to have more than 
 equaled the self-told mythical performance 
 of the Irishman who 'surrounded' a half- 
 dizen of the enemy and bagged them 
 plump. Shaler took more prisoners in 
 this battle than any other man in the 
 army — in all, twenty-five men, including 
 one lieutenant and eighteen privates at 
 one swoop. He took them by strategy of 
 the most undoubted kind ; that is, he sur- 
 rounded them, and they had to give up. 
 On the morning of the fourth, he went out 
 with his 'poncho' over his shoulders, so 
 that the confederates couldn't see his coat, 
 and thus they thought he was one of their 
 own men. He went up and told them to 
 lay down their arms and come and help 
 carry some wounded off the field ; they 
 did so. When he got them away from 
 their arms, he rode up to the lieutenant 
 and told him to give up his sword. The 
 lieutenant refused at first, but Shaler drew 
 his revolver, and the lieutenant yielded 
 without a shot, and the whole squad were 
 then escorted by their gallant captor into 
 camp. 
 
 The heroism of General Kilpatrick — 
 like that of Couch, Geary, Biiford, Birney, 
 Newton, Gregg, Mcintosh, Neil, and oth- 
 ers — was conspicuous from first to last. 
 On the thirteenth, some ten days after the 
 close of the conflict. General Kilpatrick 
 was anxious to make an advance, but 
 could not obtain orders. Some of the 
 Pennsylvania militia having been placed 
 at his disposal, he thought he would try 
 one regiment under fire. The Philadel- 
 phia Blues were selected, and, accompa- 
 nied by the First Vermont cavalry, a dem- 
 53 
 
 onstration was made on the right — the 
 confederates then occupying a fortified 
 position. The militia were now deployed, 
 the general desiring them to move to the 
 crest of a knoll, where the bullets were 
 flying pretty lively. There was some hes- 
 itancy at first, whereupon a battle-flag pre- 
 sented to the division by the ladies of 
 Boonsboro' was sent to the front. Ser- 
 geant Judy, bearer of the flag, cried out — 
 
 " 17iis is General Kilpatrick's battle- 
 flag ; folloiv it ! " 
 
 The militia obeyed the summons 
 promptly, and fell some distance in front 
 of the line, and it was supposed for some 
 time that the enemy had captured the flag; 
 but at night, when Judy was brought in 
 on a litter, he proudly waved the battle- 
 flag. The novelty of being thus under 
 fire for the first time was keenly felt by 
 the militia. About the first man touched 
 had the top of his head grazed just close 
 enough to draw blood. He halted — threw 
 down his musket — truly an astonished 
 man ! One or two officers and a dozen or 
 more privates ran hurriedly to see what 
 tlie matter was. Running both hands over 
 his pate, and seeing blood, he exclaimed, 
 "A ball ! a ball ! " — while the others stood 
 on agape with astonishment, until the 
 shrill voice of the general sounded in their 
 ears : " Moiie on there ! " 
 
 On the opening movement being made 
 to baffle Lee's march toward Pennsylva- 
 nia, the spirit which animated those who 
 had gone forth in defense of tire American 
 Union — " man's last, best \\o\)e, of free 
 government," — was conspicuously mani- 
 fest. At a distance of fifteen miles from 
 Gettj'sburg, where the armies were mass- 
 ing, were first caught the murmurs of the 
 opening battle, and from that time the 
 scene was all enthusiasm among the wear}', 
 foot-sore federals, who counted as nothing 
 all the pains of a march of nearly two hun- 
 dred miles, now that they were within 
 striking distance of the foe. Most of the 
 way, the ambulance train had been crowded 
 with both officers and men, weary, worn, 
 and haggard ; but the cannon's rattle, as 
 it became more and more distinct, changed 
 
834 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 them in a twinkling into new creatures. 
 The New Jersey brigade, in Sedgwick's 
 corps, was of this body. At about three 
 o'clock on the afternoon of July 3d, the 
 head of the column arrived on the battle- 
 ground. As it came to a halt, a poor fel- 
 
 80LDIER8* MONUMENT AT GETTYSBURG. 
 
 low, who looked the very image of death, 
 hobbled out of the ambulance in which he 
 had been lying, and, shouldering his 
 musket, was just starting forward, when 
 the surgeon stopped him with — 
 " Where are you going, sir ? " 
 " To the front, doctor," — and the brave 
 fellow tried hard to stand firm and speak 
 boldly as he saluted the surgeon. 
 
 "To the front! What ! a man in your 
 condition ? Why, sir, you can't march 
 
 half a mile ; you haven't the strength to 
 carry yourself, let alone your knapsack, 
 musket, and equipments. You must be 
 crazy, surely." 
 
 '• But, doctor, my division are in the 
 fight," (here he grasped the wheel of an 
 ambulance to support himself,) "and I have 
 a younger brother in my company. I 
 must go." 
 
 " But I am your surgeon, and I forbid 
 you. You have every symptom of ty- 
 phoid fever; a little over-exertion will kill 
 you." 
 
 "W^ell, doctor, if I must die, I would 
 rather die in the field, than in an ambu- 
 lance." 
 
 The doctor saw it was useless to debate 
 the point, and the soldier went as he de- 
 sired. But on the evening of the next 
 daj' he was buried where he fell — for fall 
 he did — his right arm blown off at the 
 elbow, and his forehead pierced by a minie 
 ball. 
 
 The impetuous bravery with which the 
 confedei-ate troops fought is illustrated by 
 the fact that every brigadier in Pickett's di- 
 vision was killed or wounded ; out of twen- 
 ty-four regimental officers, only two escaped 
 unhurt; the colonels of five Virginia reg- 
 iments were killed; the ninth Virginia 
 went in with two hundred and fifty men, 
 and came out with only thirty-eight. 
 These data show that the total casualties 
 of the confederate army, though never 
 officially published, must have been im- 
 mense — greater, probablj^, than those of 
 the victorious. The latter, as given by 
 General Meade, Avere as follows : two 
 thousand and eight hundred and thirty- 
 four killed; thirteen thousand and seven 
 hundred and nine wounded ; six thou- 
 sand and six hundred and forty-three 
 missing. The union army took forty- 
 one standards, nearly twenty-five thou- 
 sand small arms, and about fourteen 
 thousand prisoners. 
 
 So great was the joy throughout the 
 loyal states, as the tidings of victory 
 flashed across the wires, that, on the fore- 
 noon of July 4th, President Lincoln offi- 
 cially telegraphed as follows : 
 
GREAT AND MEMOEABLE EVENTS. 
 
 835 
 
 "The President announces to the ooun- 
 tr}' that news from tlie Army of tlie Poto- 
 mac, up to 10 p. M. of tlie 3(1, is such as to 
 cover that army with the liighest honor ; 
 to promise a great success to the cause of 
 the Union, and to chiim the condolence 
 
 of all for the many gallant fallen ; and 
 that for this he especially desires that 
 on this day, He, whose will, not ours, 
 should ever be done, be everywhere re- 
 membered and reverenced with profound- 
 est gratitude." 
 
XCVII. 
 
 ORATORICAL CHAMPIONSHIP OF AMERICA'S CAUSE IN 
 ENGLAND, BY REV. H. W. BEECHER.— 18G3. 
 
 His Olympian Speeches, in Defiance of British Sentiment, in the Great Cities of the Kingdom — His 
 Eloquence Rises to the Very C^rown of the Occasion. — Superb Exhibition of Forensic Power in Liv- 
 erpool.— He Wrestles, Single Handed and Triumphantly, for Three Hours, with a Vast and Tumul- 
 tuous Mob in that City. — Reception at Exeter Hall, London. — Mr. Beecher's Tour Undertaken for His 
 Health.— Reaches England, Homeward Bound. — Civil Conflict Raging in America — Mr. Beecher 
 Urged to Speak on United States Affairs. — Opening Speech in Manchester. — Great Au<lience of 
 Seven Thousand. — Attempts to Silence Him. — Powerlessness of the Opposition — Splendid Qualities 
 as an Orator — Discussions in Glasgow and Edinburgh. — Battle Waged by Mr. Beecher in Liverpool. 
 — Violent KfTorts to Gag Him. — A Maddened Sea of Insult. — Taunts, Curses, Hisses, Fury. — 
 Stampings, Hootings, Yellings. — Beecher's Pluck, and Good Humor. — He Triumphs Over the Wild 
 Tempest — A Spectacle Never Before Witnessed. — Grand Closing Scene in the British Capital. — 
 Vast and Excited Assembly. — He Carries the House by Storm. — Plaudits and Congratulations. 
 
 " A more remarkable embassy than any envoy who has represented us in Europe since Franklin pleaded the cause of the young Repub- 
 ic at the Court of VeroaiUes." — lua "Atlaxtic Monthlv." 
 
 
 ECIDEDLY the most memorable oratorical success ever achieved by an Amer- 
 ican citizen abroad, in behalf of the name and honor of his country, was that 
 
 by the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, in England 
 during the great conflict of arms then raging in 
 the United States. Leaving his great parish in 
 the city of Brooklyn, N. Y., in the summer of 
 1863, for a tour in Europe, with a view to the 
 restoration of his health, it was not until October 
 following, soon after reaching England, with his face set 
 homeward, that he was prevailed upon to address a jjublic 
 audience, as the champion of the American Union, and de- 
 fender of the national government. 
 
 Beginning at Manchester, October 9th, Mr. Beecher de- 
 livered five great speeches in the great cities of the king- 
 dom — Manchester, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Liverpool, and 
 London, — each speech being devoted to some special train of 
 thought and argument bearing upon the issues involved in 
 the momentous contest ; and the whole series, taken together, 
 did more for the Union cause in Great Britain than all that 
 had before been said or written. Possessing the faculty, 
 beyond any other American orator, of combining close, 
 rapid, powerful, practical reasoning, with intense passion, — his mind 
 always aglow with his subject, — the effect of Mr. Beecher's speaking 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 837 
 
 is to kindle sympathy, even if it does not 
 flash conviction. It is this quality, ac- 
 cording to the opinion of those who are 
 best acquainted witl; ]Mr. Boecher's oratory, 
 which, combined with his marvelous power 
 of illustration — marvelous alike for its 
 intense vividness and unerring pertinency 
 — and his great flexibility, whereby he 
 adapts himself completely to the exigency 
 of the instant, gives him a rare command 
 over a popular assemblage. 
 
 Free Trade Hall was the place selected 
 for !Mr. Eeecher's appearance in Man- 
 chester. Though capable of holding seven 
 thousand persons, the hall Avas densely 
 crowded, and the speaker received a wel- 
 come such as, in point of enthusiasm, had 
 rarely fell to the lot of any other man. 
 On this occasion, he gave a history of that 
 series of political movements, extending 
 through half a century, the logical and 
 inevitable end of wdiich was open conflict 
 between the tw^o opposing forces of free- 
 dom and slavery. There were in the 
 meeting a few hundred opponents who 
 frequently interrupted Mr. Beecher, but 
 these checks only served to show how 
 powerless was the opposition, and how 
 forcible was the impression made by the 
 speaker. His pointed remarks were fre- 
 quently greeted with rounds of applause, 
 and when, at the close of his address, he 
 read a telegram just received from Liver- 
 pool, that the " broad arrow " of the British 
 government had that day been placed upon 
 the suspected steam-rams in the Mersey, 
 the enthusiasm reached its climax. The 
 whole audience rose, vociferously cheering, 
 and waving hats and handkerchiefs. 
 
 Not to dwell upon the scenes character- 
 izing Mr. Beecher's efforts in Glasgow. 
 and Edinburgh, it may be remarked that, 
 in Liverpool, he waged such a battle with 
 the vast and tumultuous throng assembled 
 there to gag and stifle him, as, perhaps, 
 no other public speaker in the world could 
 have fought, in a strange land, and not 
 been utterly vanquished. He here, in this 
 great center of commercial and manufac- 
 turing interests, labored to show how 
 those interests are injured by slavery, — 
 
 that the attempt to cover the fairest por- 
 tion of the earth with a slave population 
 that buys nothing, and a degraded white 
 population that buys next to nothing, 
 should array against it the sympathy of 
 every true political economist and every 
 thoughtful and far-seeing manufacturer, as 
 tending to strike at the vital want of com- 
 merce, namelj', not the want of cotton, but 
 the want of customers. Amidst the most 
 violent attempts to drown his voice and 
 shut his lips, Mr. Beecher remained 
 master of the platform, abundantly prov- 
 ing to the mob the truth of his asser- 
 tion, " I am born without moral fear. I 
 have expressed my views in any audience, 
 and it never cost me a struggle. I never 
 could help doing it." So, too, in answer 
 to the taunts and sarcasm of those who 
 wished ill to the Union and looked with 
 satisfaction upon the evidences of its ap- 
 proaching dismemberment, came the dec- 
 laration : 
 
 " Standing by my cradle, standing by 
 my hearth, standing by the altar of the 
 church, standing by all the places that 
 mark the name and memory of heroic men 
 who poured their blood and lives for prin- 
 ciple, I declare that in ten or twenty years 
 of war we will sacrifice everything we 
 have for principle. If the love of popular 
 liberty is dead in Great Britain, you will 
 not understand us ; but if the love of 
 liberty lives as it once lived, and has 
 worthy successors of those renowned men 
 that were our ancestors as much as yours, 
 and whose example and principles we 
 inherit to make fruitful as so much seed- 
 corn in a new and fertile land, then j'ou 
 will understand our firm, invincible deter- 
 mination — deep as the sea, firm as the 
 mountains, but calm as the heavens above 
 us — to fight this war through at all hazards 
 and at every cost. " 
 
 Throughout all the tumultuous demon- 
 strations on the part of his Liverpool 
 audience, his pluck and good humor never 
 for a moment forsook him. His perfect 
 self-possession, his readiness, his jovial 
 wit, gave him the mastery in the fearful 
 odds against which he had to battle 
 
838 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Another orator might have withered the 
 mob with invective, but lie conquered them 
 with liumor. He turned tlie laugh against 
 them. He parried their blows, and at the 
 same time struck home, so that the recoil 
 made them wince in spite of their bravado. 
 It was a grand spectacle, in St. George's 
 Hall, Liverpool, when he struggled for 
 nearly three livelong hours against that 
 raging sea of insult, taunt, iron}'', imper- 
 tinent questioning, blackguardism, curses, 
 hisses, cat-calls, stampings, hootings, jell- 
 ings — every possible manifestation of hate, 
 every possible form of disorder ; but this 
 strong-winged bird of the storm matched 
 his might against it — now soaring up to 
 
 In the course of this great and exciting 
 discussion, the orator touched upon a point 
 or question frequently asked and honestly 
 entertained by those not acquainted with 
 the structure of the American government. 
 '' It is said, ' Why not let the South go ? ' 
 [Hear, hear, and cheers.] * Since they 
 won't be at peace with you, wh}'^ do you 
 not let them separate from you ? ' Because 
 they would be less peaceable separated 
 than they are together. [Hear, hear.] 
 Oh, if the South only would go ! [Laugh- 
 ter.] The}" are determined to stay — that 
 is the trouble. [Hear, hear.] We would 
 furnish free passage to every mother's son. 
 of them, if they would go. [Laughter.] 
 
 RKV. H. W. BEECHEK DEFENDING THE AMEKICAN UMON, IN EXETER HALL, LONDON. 
 
 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 80 courage- 
 ously and ably. 
 
 But we say, * That territor]/ is ours / ' 
 [Cheers.] Let them go, and leave the 
 nation its territory, and they will have our 
 unanimous consent. [Renewed cheers.] 
 But I do not wish to discuss this even in 
 in this ad captamhun way. I wish — 
 because this seems to me the very marrow 
 of the matter — I wish to ask you 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.] 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 839 
 
 (Some gentleman on the platform here 
 offered Mr. Beecher a glass of water.) 
 No, thank you (said Mr. Beecher) ; I 
 ■want neitlier water nor lozenges. [Laugli- 
 ter.] Time, patience, and my own good 
 lungs, will make me heard. I expect to 
 be hoarse ; I am w^illing to be hoarse. I 
 think that if I might but bring the mother 
 aad 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 up 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 3'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, j^et 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. [Re- 
 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 applause.] Old England 
 shocked at a war of principle ! She gained 
 her glories in such a w^ar. [Cheers.] 
 Old England ashamed of a war of princi- 
 ple ! Her national ensign symbolizes 
 her history — the ci'oss in a field of 
 blood. [Cheers.] And will ijou 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 w'hich there were 
 four hundred, the charge was two shillings 
 and sixpence. 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 doers 
 were opened, 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 
 w^as 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 
 
840 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 was 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 ions at last fairly carried 
 into the hall on the shoulders of thej)olicc- 
 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, whetlier 
 holding tickets or not. This had the effect 
 of thinning to some extent the throng out- 
 side, but thousands 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. 
 
 Beecher had made his appearance on the 
 platform. The cheering w'as 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 ]\Ir. 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. A^ hen 
 ]\Ir. Beecher and his friends issued from 
 the hall, thoj' Avere 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, deeji answering unto 
 deep. A strong body of j)olice 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 j^^ssing resvme of his discussions 
 of the American question during the last 
 few weeks ; At Miinchester, 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, affixing to it the badge of deg- 
 
GREAT A^D MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 841 
 
 radation, and that tlie struggle to ex- 
 tend servile labor across the American 
 continent interested every fi-ee 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, buying 
 the smallest quantity and the pooi'est 
 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 the 
 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. Beechor with such happy illustra- 
 tions, accurate logii;, and fervent zeal, as to 
 render them more broadly intelligible to 
 the jiopular mind than ever they had been 
 made before, and showed the orator to be 
 not onlj' 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 
 Russian 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 flirts 
 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, 3'ou 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 engaged 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 fdt tvhen you flirted with 3Iason 
 at your Lord Mayor''s banquet ! " 
 
 Mr. Beecher's justification of the presi- 
 dent's proclamation of emancipation, as at 
 once a war necessity and a philanthropic 
 
842 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 act, told with admirable effect upon his 
 hearers. He said: "The great conflict 
 between the north and the 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 
 
 MR. BEECIIER'S church, BROOKLYN, ^EW 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 liats]. How did the matter pass to 
 a conflict with the south, 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 the south, they mixed the 
 national government and nation.'il 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 their 
 choice between the safety of the life of the 
 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 officer 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. Beechcr's address were his 
 noble and earnest efforts to promote, to the 
 utmost of his ability, that supremo 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 stnnding, 
 as he did, the solitary s[)okesman 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- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 843 
 
 ciission of the ^^•holo round of points in 
 American affairs wliicli the British fount! 
 it most (litficult 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 being an American's present- 
 ation of tlie American question, and never 
 before did an orator make such triumph- 
 ant use o^ his opportunity. There had 
 been symptoms of an attempt to pack the 
 meeting — if possible to till 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 the 
 great majority, while his good nature, fine 
 tact, resoluteness, and easy address, quite 
 conquered the remaining malcontents and 
 reduced them to silence. 
 
XCYIII. 
 
 ERECTION" AND INAUGURATION OF THE GREAT ORGAN 
 IN THE BOSTON MUSIC HALL.— 1863. 
 
 Most Majestic and Perfect Instrument of the Kind in America. — Almost Without an Equal in the 
 Whole World. — Height, Sixty Feet; Width, Forty-eight Feet; Depth, Twenty-four Feet; Weight, 
 Seventy Tons ; Cost, $60,000. — Its Vast and Enchanting Harmonies and Wondrous Frame of Archi- 
 tectural Beauty. — The Masterpiece of Musical Art — Origin of the Enterprise. — Dr Upham's Grand 
 Conception. — Full Powers Conferred Upon Him. — His Seven Years' Labor and Care. — America and 
 Europe Explored. — A Colossal Instrument Decided On. — Object and Influence of Such. — Contract 
 for Its Construction in Germany. — Unrivaled Mechanism of the Work. — Completed, and Shipped 
 for Boston — Three Months' Tempestuous Voyage — Enshrinement of the Organ in a Case. — Its 
 Towers, Domes, and Sculptures. — Wind Pipes, Thirty-two Feet Long. — Eighty-nine Full Registers. 
 — Total Number of Pipes, Five Thousand Four Hundred and Seventy-four. — Capacity of the Organ, 
 Six Thousand Voices. — Ease with which it is Performed — Marvelous Lights and Shades of Tone. — 
 First Exposition to the Public. — Enthusiasm and Joy on the Occasion. — Music, Poetry, Art, Beauty. 
 
 * Loud was the peal : so loud 
 
 As would have quite o'erwhelnied the human eenBCS 
 
 But 80011 it came n genile. lieav^-nly s-tiain, 
 Like sotleec uote breathed from .iSolian lute." 
 
 STATUE OP BKETHOVEN, IJf BOSTON. 
 
 ELIGHTFUL and self-gratulatory as were the sensations 
 with which the citizens of the metropolis of New 
 England justly contemplated the completion of their 
 incomparable Music Hall, the enthusiasm of their satis- 
 faction was intensified to the highest degree when, in 
 November, 1863, there was added to the attractions of 
 that magnificent edifice, and of the city itself as well, 
 the mightiest and most superb organ on the American 
 continent, and equaled in its vast dimensions and won- 
 derful musical capacity by only two or three in the 
 whole world. 
 
 The acquisition of this great instrument — so much 
 the object of pride and enjoj'ment on the part rf Boston- 
 ians, and scarcely less on the part of all lovers of the 
 divine art of music, who have come in throngs from every 
 part of the Union, to witness its form of beauty and 
 listen to its marvelous sounds of enchantment, — is due 
 to the large conception of Dr. J. Baxter Upham, for 
 man}' years the accomplished president of the IMusic 
 Hall Association. From his deej) thought, comprehen- 
 sive plans, severe labor, and constant care, came forth 
 this splendid embodiment of musical science and artistic 
 construction. 
 
GREAT AND IMEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 845 
 
 At an early period in tlie history of the 
 association, (the official report of the 
 enterprise is here followed,) a committee 
 was appointed for the study and investi- 
 gation of all matters relating to the fu- 
 ture procurement of an appropriate in- 
 strument for the hall. After a sufficient 
 time spent in understanding the theory 
 and philosophy of the subject, the com- 
 mittee betook themselves to more practi- 
 cal inquiries, by a personal examination 
 of the best productions to be found in 
 this department of mechanical and artistic 
 achievement, in different sections. But 
 no one state, or country, or continent, 
 could furnish the sum of that knowledge 
 which was requisite for the full under- 
 standing of the matter, and the bringing 
 to pass of that perfection of results at 
 which they aimed. In the summer and 
 autumn of 1853, the committee extended 
 their researches in Great Britain, France, 
 Switzerland, and Germany, collecting such 
 written works and specimens of mechani- 
 cal structure in the niceties of the art, as 
 they could obtain in the countries visited. 
 On their return, the facts and experiences 
 in the art of organ-building thus gained 
 were compared, patiently and candidlj^, 
 with the conditions that obtained at home, 
 and, without any disparagement of the 
 skill and ingenuity of American manufac- 
 turers, the committee concluded that the 
 vantage ground lay unmistakably in the 
 acquisitions which the accumulated experi- 
 ence of centuries had given to the handi- 
 craft of the old world. 
 
 After the subject had been considered 
 and discussed at various meetings held 
 from time to time, a subscription paper 
 was directed to be opened, it being pro- 
 posed thereby to obtain an organ of the 
 first class, one that should rival in power, 
 in magnitude, and in excellence, the most 
 famous instruments of Europe, — those 
 which have for so many years excited the 
 wonder and admiration of travelers on 
 that continent. "Just such an instru- 
 ment," says the official report of the direc- 
 tors, " the capacity of our hall allows and 
 requires. Without it, its beautiful archi- 
 
 tecture will always be incomplete, and its 
 acoustic qualities fail to reach their full 
 perfection. Of the influence of such an 
 instrument upon the Association, the value 
 can hardly be estimated. It would place 
 this hall at once, in point of attraction, 
 immeasurably above that of any other 
 institution of the kind in the land ; and 
 every year, and at all seasons of the year, 
 we see no reason to doubt, would draw as 
 many pilgrims to its shrine as do the 
 world-renowned organs at Haarlem, at 
 Hamburg, at Ulm, and in the Church of 
 St. Nicholas at Freyburg. To the city 
 and to New England it would be an object 
 of just pride, and to the public would 
 prove a source of the purest enjoyment, an 
 inculcator of a taste for music in its high- 
 est and holiest forms, for man}^ generations 
 to come. And in the consideration of a 
 matter so important, it seems particularly 
 desirable to set our standard of excellence 
 high, — to be satisfied with nothing infe- 
 rior to tlie greatest and the best, since w'e 
 are providing for a work that shall stand, 
 it is to be hoped, not for decades only, but 
 for centuries of years." The cost of such 
 an instrument was estimated at twenty- 
 five thousand dollars, but the total expen- 
 diture proved in the end to be only a little 
 short of sixt}^ thousand. 
 
 The next step taken by the directors 
 was to delegate Doctor Upham, as chair- 
 man of the organ committee, to proceed to 
 Europe and complete the investigation of 
 the subject, make choice of a builder, and 
 execute a contract. To this end, that 
 eminent gentleman critically examined the 
 principal organs and organ factories in 
 Great Britain, Holland, Belgium, France, 
 and Germany; and, finally, Herr E. Fr. 
 Walcker, of Ludwigsburg, in Germany, — 
 a name long famous in the annals of organ- 
 building throughout the continent of Eu- 
 rope, and whose recent colossal structures 
 at Stuttgard and in the cathedral at Ulm 
 had given to him a world-wide reputation, 
 — was selected as the builder. The con- 
 tract was a document covering forty pages 
 of manuscript. 
 
 An emphatic condition of this contract 
 
846 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 was that the character of the construction 
 of the instrument should represent all the 
 resources and jiossibilities of the art up to 
 the time of its completion, and this was 
 strictly fulfilled. The brilliant trumpets 
 in the swell, for instance, are fashioned 
 like orchestral trumpets of brass, and jjol- 
 ished and burnished with the greatest 
 care, although hidden forever from view. 
 Its bassoons and oboes are tuned and 
 voiced in strictest imitation of the instru- 
 ments of their kind. Its traverse flute is 
 
 and the difficulties arising from sudden 
 atmospheric changes are almost wholly 
 counteracted. The swell organ includes 
 within its walls a portion of the pedal, and 
 is an instrument complete in itself. 
 Added to this is an apparatus attached to 
 some of the individual stops, by which to 
 effect the increase or diminution of the 
 sound at pleasure ; besides all which is the 
 grand crescendo and diminuendo to the 
 whole work. By means, also, of an exten- 
 sive application of the pneumatic lever. 
 
 THE GREAT ORGAN IN BOSTON MUSIC HALL. 
 
 of choice wood, in shape like actual flutes, 
 turned and varnished, and fitted with em- 
 bouchures of brass ; its concert flute, too, 
 is of wood, of choicest selection and finest 
 grain. So, likewise, with the accessory 
 parts of the instnmient ; the wind-<diests 
 are constructed after a new and admirable 
 invention of the builder, by which the 
 faults that, under the common system of 
 sliders, have been for centuries justly com- 
 j)lained of in the best works, are avoided, 
 
 lightness is given to the touch ; and by a 
 combination of ingenious contrivances, the 
 whole resources of the instrument are 
 brought within easy reach and control of 
 the player. 
 
 On the completion of the instrument, its 
 qualities were tested at the factory, in 
 presence of the most competent and criti- 
 cal judges that could be found in England 
 and on the continent, .and pronounced 
 incomparable; and in due time, namely, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 847 
 
 in Decem"ber, 1862, tlie great work was 
 slii[)i)ed on board the Dutch brig I'resto, 
 for Boston, at whicli place she arrived after 
 a tempestuous and perilous winter's voyage 
 of three months. 
 
 No slight task presented itself in deter- 
 mining what should be the architectural 
 form and enshrinement of the instrument, 
 and it was only after years of patient effort 
 and trial that the present wondrous frame 
 of beauty for the noble instrument was 
 obtained. The gem of the structure is a 
 design by Hammatt Billings. But the 
 finally adopted plan, in its artistic and 
 elaborate beauty and grandeur, belongs to 
 the brothers Gustave and Christian Herter, 
 of New York, and the character of the 
 work executed by them has justly immor- 
 talized their name in this sublime enter- 
 prise. 
 
 This great organ has been fitly described 
 as being a choir of nearly six thousand 
 throats. Its largest wind pipes are thirty- 
 two feet in length, and a man can crawl 
 through them. Its finest tubes are too 
 small for a baby's whistle. The instru- 
 ment may fairly be said to consist of fi\e 
 distinct organs, or systems of pipes, which 
 are capable of being played on alone, or in 
 connection with each other. Four of these 
 are played upon by manuals or hand key- 
 boards and the other by pedals or a foot 
 key-board. The lowest of the former con- 
 trols the swell organ, the pipes of which, 
 as in other instruments, are enclosed in a 
 box. — in this case, itself as large as many 
 complete organs, — and so arranged that it 
 may be open or perfectly tight at the will 
 of the performer, thus giving opportunity 
 for light and shade in endless variety. 
 This organ contains eighteen registers, or 
 stops, with which are drawn on or shut off 
 an equal number of ranks or series of 
 pipes, all of which, or any of them sepa- 
 rately or in combination, may be made to 
 speak through the swell manual. Next 
 above this is placed the key-board of the 
 'great organ,' as it is technically called. 
 Here there are twenty-five registers, all of 
 which connect with pipes on a large scale, 
 and are the loudest voiced pii)es in the 
 
 wliole organ. Here are tlie grand diapa- 
 sons which form the foundation of the 
 whole sound superstructure, and the im- 
 mense trumpets and clarions wliich ring 
 out like a call to battle. Above the great 
 organ manual comes that of the choir 
 organ, which has fifteen registers, and is 
 in many respects the 'great organ' on a 
 softer scale, but without the harsher reed 
 stops. The last and upper manual belongs 
 to the solo organ, which also answers for 
 the echo organ, containing eleven stops, 
 and among them the famous vox humana. 
 The pedals are the only remaining key- 
 board, and in connection with them are 
 twenty distinct stops, fifteen loud and the 
 rest soft. The total number of speaking 
 stops is eighty-nine, which may all be 
 combined ; and the grand total of pipes is 
 five thousand four hundred and seventy- 
 four. The breath to these pipes Avas at 
 first furnished by twelve pairs of bellows, 
 moved by water-power derived from the 
 city reservoirs, — steam, however, being 
 subsequently used for this purpose. 
 
 Not only is this wonderful instrument 
 different from others in size and w^onder- 
 ful variety of stops, but it excels them in 
 almost every detail that can be mentioned. 
 The dip of the kej's of ordinary organs is 
 three-eighths, or at most three-eighths and 
 a six';eentli of an inch, while the keys of 
 this organ dip no less than five-eighths of 
 an inch. But the difficulties which would 
 arise from such a vast amount of mechan- 
 ism connecting with the keys, asking of 
 an organist's finger the strength of a 
 blacksmith's arm, are overcome with ease 
 by the delicate pneumatic action which is 
 provided. The arrangement of the stops 
 is controlled to a great extent by the feet, 
 there being twelve separate pedals for this 
 purpose, so that the most beautiful and 
 changeful effects can be made without 
 removing either hand from the key-board. 
 There is also the pedal, already alluded to, 
 by which all the stops of the organ may be 
 gradually, one by one, or instantaneously, 
 drawn on or shut off, thus producing the 
 most magnificent crescendo and diminu- 
 endo, as well as explosive effects. Thus a 
 
848 
 
 OUE FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 tone which is scarcely heard at first can be 
 augmented by degrees until it makes the 
 air quiver with its thunders, and then 
 slowly sink again to hushed repose. 
 
 This great instrument is placed upon a 
 low platform, the outlines of which are in 
 accordance with its own. Whole height 
 of the organ, about sixty feet ; breadth, 
 forty-eight feet; average depth, twenty- 
 four feet ; weight, sixty to seventy tons. 
 The beauty of its exterior is such as to 
 call forth the highest enthusiasm of the 
 beholder. Doctor Holmes, in an article such 
 as, perhaps, no other pen could produce, says 
 of it : '' The structure is of black walnut, 
 and is covered with carved statues, busts, 
 masks, and figures, in the boldest relief. 
 In the center, a richly ornamented arch 
 contains the niche for the key-boards and 
 
 
 colossal mask of a singing 
 
 GENIUS OF MUSIC AND ART. 
 
 stops. A 
 
 woman looks from over its summit. The 
 pediment above is surmounted b}^ the bust 
 of Johann Sebastian Bach. Behind tliis 
 rises the lofty central division containing 
 pipes; and crowning it is a beautiful sit- 
 ting statue of St. Cecilia, holding her lyre. 
 On each side of her a griffin sits as a 
 guardian. This center is connected by 
 harp-shaped compartments filled with 
 pipes, to tlie two great round towers, one 
 on each side, and each containing three 
 colossal pipes. These magnificent towers 
 come boldly forward into the hall, be- 
 
 ing the most prominent, as they are the 
 highest and stateliest part of the facade. 
 At the base of each, a gigantic half-carya- 
 tid, in the style of the ancient hermse, but 
 finished to the waist, bends beneath the 
 superincumbent weight, like Atlas under 
 the globe. These figures are of wonderful 
 force, the muscular development excessive, 
 but in keeping with their superhuman 
 task. At each side of the base, two lion- 
 hermae share in the task of the giant. 
 Over the base rise the round pillars which 
 support the dome, and enclose the three 
 great pipes already mentioned. Graceful 
 as these look in their positions, half a 
 dozen men might creep into one of them 
 and be hidden. The three great pipes are 
 crowned with a heavily sculptured, ribbed 
 round dome; and this surmounted on each 
 side by two cherubs, whose heads almost 
 touch the lofty ceiling. This whole por- 
 tion of the sculpture is of eminent beauty. 
 All the reliefs that run around the lower 
 portion of the dome are of singular rich- 
 ness. The whole base of the instrument, 
 in the intervals of the figures described, 
 is also covered with elaborate carvings. 
 Groups of musical instruments, standing 
 out almost detached from the background, 
 occupy the panels. Ancient and modern, 
 clustered with careless grace and quaint 
 variety, from the violin down to a string 
 of sleigh bells, they call up all the echoes 
 of forgotten music, such as the thousand- 
 tongued organ blends together in one 
 grand harmony. As we return to the 
 impression produced by the grand facade, 
 we are more and more struck with the 
 subtle art displayed in its adaptations and 
 symbolisms. Never did any structure we 
 have looked upon so fully justify Madame 
 de Stal'l's definition of architecture, — 
 ' frozen music' The outermost towers, 
 their pillars" and domes, are all square, 
 their outlines thus passing without too 
 sudden transition from the sharp square 
 angles of the vaulted ceiling, and the rec- 
 tangular lines of the walls of the hall itself, 
 into the more central parts of the instru- 
 ment, where a smoother outline of harmony 
 is predominant. For in the great towers, 
 
GREAT AXD MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 849 
 
 which step forward, as it were, to repre- 
 sent the ineaiiiiig of the entire structure, 
 tlie lines are all curved, as if the slight 
 discords which give sharpness and variet}^ 
 to its less vital jwrtions were all oresolved 
 as we approach its throbbing heart." 
 
 It devolved upon Doctor Upham, as 
 chairman of the committee under whose 
 direction the organ \vas built, to make 
 formal transfer of the instrument to the 
 Music Hall Association, and this happy 
 ceremony took place on the evening of 
 October 31st. At about eiglit o'clock, 
 strains of sweet music were for the first 
 time heard from the great instrument, 
 which was completely hidden from the 
 gaze by a screen of green, extending from 
 floor to ceiling. So thoroughly rapt were 
 the audience in the rich swelling notes of 
 the organ, that they hardly observed the 
 dimness of the light, which seemed to 
 throw a veil of solemnity over the whole 
 scene. For nearly twenty minutes the 
 audience sat thus; then the music ceased; 
 the gas-lights flashed forth in all their 
 brilliancy, and the huge curtain began to 
 descend. Not a whisper broke the charmed 
 spell. All eyes were riveted on the opeii- 
 ing space. First appeared the little cher- 
 ubs that surmount the domes of the main 
 towers of the structure, then the domes 
 themselves, and the triple columns of great 
 pipes, and quickly upon this the full 
 breadth of the wondrous instrument, re- 
 splendent with its burnished columns and 
 golden reliefs, and grand and majestic in 
 the symmetry of its massive and beautiful 
 architecture, burst upon the view. 
 
 And now the silence was broken by one 
 universal cheer, given with genuine enthu- 
 siasm. The audience rose to their feet, 
 positively enraptured, and cheers i;pon 
 cheers marked the auspicious moment. 
 The scene, so grandly impressive, was 
 worthy an occasion so memorable. After 
 three rousing clieers for Doctor Upham, 
 and after the tumult of applause had 
 subsided, ]\[r. Morgan, the organist of 
 Grace church, New York, was introduced, 
 and performed the William Tell overture 
 
 (Rossini), at the conclusion of which he 
 
 .^4 
 
 retired amid hearty applause. Doctor 
 Upham then stepped forward and read the 
 report of the seven years' labor of the 
 building committee. After this, Mr. Lang 
 was introduced and played some beautiful 
 light music, giving a choice extract from 
 Mendelssohn and a bit of Rink's flute con- 
 certo ; to him succeeded Mr. Paine, Avho 
 gave Bach's Toccata in D minor; Mr. 
 Thayer, of Worcester, who played a 
 Marclie Triumphale, of his own composi- 
 tion ; and INIr. Wilcox, who chose several 
 selections, nicely adapted for displaying 
 the solo stops and ingenious adaptations. 
 
 The public inauguration of this most 
 magnificent elaboration of artistic genius 
 and beauty was fixed for the evening of 
 November 2, 1SG3, and the event took 
 place at that time, in the presence of an 
 aiulience which, for numbers and distinc- 
 tion, has seldom if ever been matched in 
 this countr}', so remarkable for its popular 
 gatherings. The programme for tlie occa- 
 sion was prepared with great care, with a 
 view to represent, so far as time and oppor- 
 tunity admitted, the principal worthy 
 schools of organ music ; above all, to reveal 
 something of the proper grandeur and 
 beauty of the organ in its impersonality. 
 
 The vast hall was crowded to overflow- 
 ing, ever}' foot of space being occupied by 
 men and women renowned in intellectual, 
 scientific, and artistic attainments. The 
 exercises of the evening commenced with 
 an original ode, written for the occasion 
 by Mrs. James T. Fields, and recited by 
 Miss Charlotte Cushman, who paused in 
 her route to Rome to assist at this festival. 
 Then followed the musical part of the pro- 
 gramme, the opening performance being 
 appropriately delegated to Herr Fricdrich 
 Walcker, son of the eminent organ-builder, 
 E. Fr. Walcker, of Ludwigsburg, kingdom 
 of Wurtemburg. And then followed per- 
 formances by Messrs. Paine, Tbayer, Mor- 
 gan, Lang, Tuckerman, and "Wilcox, .the 
 whole concluding with Handel's magnifi- 
 cent Hallelujah Chorus. The music ended, 
 there was a general flocking of the com- 
 pany toward the stage, for a nearer exam- 
 ination of the beautiful details of the work. 
 
850 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 They seemed a crowd of worshipers going 
 up to a cathedral; and the bronze Beetho- 
 ven, looking down benignly in the very 
 focus of all that architectural beauty, 
 seemed like the idol of their homage. All 
 mouths were warm in praise of Doctor Up- 
 ham, for his original conception of the enter- 
 prise, his admirable wisdom in devising 
 means for carrying it into execution, — in 
 a word, for his intelligent, enthusiastic 
 direction and oversight of the work in 
 general and in detail, from its beginning 
 to its successful completion. 
 
 It would be impossible to portray the 
 effect produced upon the audience by the 
 grand harmonies of this majestic instru- 
 ment, when thus handled by the masters 
 of musical science. Suffice it to say, that, 
 in all that brilliant multitude, composed 
 largely of musical performers, critics, and 
 connoisseurs, there was no dissenting opin- 
 ion in regard to the qualities of the instru- 
 ment, all agreeing as to its vast volume of 
 tone — so evenly balanced through its en- 
 tire compass, so full and rich in eA'ery 
 part, and supported and sustained by 
 the pedale of twenty stops ; all agreeing, 
 too, as to the beauty of tone of such 
 stops as could be displayed on an occasion 
 like this, and as to the jierfection of 
 the mechanism which j^ermitted a first 
 performance marked by no accident and 
 no failure. 
 
 One of the most intelligent critics con- 
 nected with the New York press, in writ- 
 ing an account of this instrument, spoke 
 of it as the last best gift of the O'.d World 
 to the New. "There is nothing on the 
 continent comparable with it ; and I should 
 
 hold it not a sin to worship it, — or rather 
 worship at its sacred shrine. The case 
 has been minutely described, but not ade- 
 quately ; it never can be. Seen last night, 
 in the mingled gas and electric light, it 
 was like a vision. The full scope of the 
 design is known only by careful study, and 
 the perfection of it is no less wonderful 
 than the instrument itself." Another cor- 
 respondent of the press of that city wrote, 
 in relation to the same point : " As I 
 looked at it again and again, during the 
 evening, I found new beauties. In the 
 softened gas-light and the dazzling glare 
 of the electric light, burning on the pol- 
 ished pipes, I hardly thought of its being 
 real. But on ascending the stage after- 
 wards, and standing by the two figures 
 which support the two groups of large 
 pipes, I saw the majesty of the design. It 
 is only by standing close by, that an idea 
 of the scope and marvelous creation in it 
 can be fully attained; for this facade is a 
 creation, — a thing of perfect beauty. In 
 itself alone we might behold art enshrined ; 
 but when there is behind all this, as its 
 lord and occasion, a thousand-tongued soul, 
 we may be reverently glad at having on 
 American soil what is at least, if not the 
 largest, as perfect an organ as any in the 
 world." Such, indeed, was the involuntary 
 and enthusiastic testimony borne by all 
 those whose good fortune it was to be 
 present on this occasion, and such, too, has 
 been the verdict of the great public, who, 
 in ceaseless throngs and untold numbers, 
 have from that day to the present, made 
 the GuEAT Organ the object of their glad 
 pilgrimage. 
 
XCIX. 
 
 COMBAT BETWEEN THE ALABAMA, CAPTAIN SEMMES, 
 AND THE KEARSARGE, CAPTAIN WINSLOW, 
 OFF CHERBOURG.— 1864. 
 
 The Alabama is Sunk after an Hour's EngRgement, 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 Vessels — The Previous Destructive Career of the Alabama against 
 Northern Commerce — Causeless Raid on Marine Property. — Fault in the Law of Nations. — British 
 Origin of tiie Alabama — Her Unmistakable Character. — Peculiar Model and Equipment — Adiipteil 
 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 the so-called United States."— Semmes's Commission fbom Jefferson 
 Davis. 
 
 USTICE, 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- 
 
 J K^^j^^^^^ band of war,from capture by privateers. Had this 
 
 gg|- ff7^^ y^^ wise and equitable principle prevailed during the 
 
 ^^^ ^^^M four years of the American Civil Conflict, the 
 commerce of the United States would not have been 
 swept from the ocean b}- a few j-redator}' cruisers 
 like the Sumter, the Florida, the Georgia, and 
 chief of all the Alabama, the latter commanded by 
 Captain Eaphael Semmes, formerly an ofiHcer of 
 MERc^^^^ssELirruN^mr'TnE^LABAS.^ the United States nav}--, 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- 
 
852 
 
 OUE FIKST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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. K, will here 
 form the subject of a few pages. The 
 engagrement 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 powers 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 j)0und 
 pivot on the main deck ; also, a pivot bow- 
 gun, and a pivot stern chaser. This was 
 her armament when she began hor 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 — 
 al)()ut one to two feet — with small doer- 
 vanes on each, and a pendant to the main ; 
 stuilding-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 Avas kept at the mast-head from 
 daylight until sunset. Her sails were of 
 hemp canvas, made very reaching; 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 generally un- 
 der two top-sails, fore and main trj'-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 Avas very slow in 
 stays; generally wore ship. Being built 
 exjiressly for a privateer, she was adapted, 
 in all respects, to destroj', fight, or run, 
 according as the character of her opponent 
 might be. 
 
 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 to Birkenhead, but 
 steamed direct for the island in the Atlan- 
 tic Avhere she Avas 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 naA'al re- 
 serve, all being trained gunners, and the 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 853 
 
 majority old men-of-war's men. She was 
 temftorarily coinniandiHl by Captain Bul- 
 lock, who liad umh'r him the proper coni- 
 pleuK'ut of couuuissioned 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; 
 thougli, 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 j)resuniptive 
 proofs of her neutrality, in the face of 
 which, interference might have been diffi- 
 cult. At this time, she carried no guns, 
 uor any warlike stores, but consisted 
 
 ^^^o^^'Z^a^ 
 
 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 days, 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, 
 — clearing 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 tlie 
 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 altJng- 
 side of the bark, and erected a pair 
 of large shears to effect the transfer 
 of her cargo from the bark's hold to 
 the privateer's deck. This brought 
 off the Portuguese in a furj-, 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, saying 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 comjilete, 
 the British screw-steamer Bahama came 
 in, having on board Captain Semmes and 
 
854 
 
 OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 other late officers of the privateer Sumter 
 (cut short in lier career), besides the re- 
 mainder of the 290's armament, and an 
 addition of twenty or more men to her 
 crew. On the Bahama's arrival and an- 
 chora<]fe, on a somewliat 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 Baliama 
 at once communicated with the 290, and 
 having 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 Ba^' — a 
 bay in the same island, and only a few 
 leagues distant from Tarissa Roads. 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 vessel 
 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, with 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, name!}", 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 his 
 sealed orders from Mr. Davis, directing 
 him to assume command of the confederate 
 sloop-of-war Alabama, liitherto known as 
 the 290, in Avhich, having been duly com- 
 missioned, he was to hoist the confederate 
 ensign and pennant, and "sink, hum, and 
 
 destroy everything which flew the ensign 
 of the so-called United States of America J' 
 
 CajDtain Semmes then ordered the first 
 lieutenant to fire a gun and run up the 
 confederate flag and pennant. The gun 
 was fired by the second lieutenant, and, 
 ere its smoke had cleared away, the stars 
 and bars of tlie southern confederacy were 
 floating on the breeze, and the ceremony 
 was complete, — Semmes declaring the 
 vessel, henceforth to be known as the Ala- 
 bama, to have been duly commissioned. 
 
 The next step was formally to engage 
 the crew to serve and fight under the 
 southern flag, which having been done, the 
 men were addressed b}' 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 newlj- -hoisted flag for 
 any one of the 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 
 repented 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 other officers who 
 had taken the 290 from England to the 
 Azores finding their occupation gone, 
 through the arrival of those who had held 
 similar appointments in the Sumter, haA'- 
 ing gone on board the Bahama, that vessel 
 and the Alabama, amid heart}^ cheering 
 from the crews of both, parted compan}-, 
 the former pursuing her course back to 
 England, and the latter making chase for 
 an American whaler, which she soon caj)- 
 tured and burned. 
 
 Tl)is vas the first prize tahen ly 
 Semmes, in that long and successful career 
 in the Soutli Atlantic ami Indian oceans, 
 during which he inflicted almost untold 
 damage upon the merchant marine service 
 of the United States, and successfully 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 855 
 
 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 circimistance Avhich suddenly 
 arose, and which as suddenly terminated 
 in her complete destruction. 
 
 Making good her escape from the United 
 States naval vessels at the Cape of Good 
 Hope and Stx'aits of Sunda, and after com- 
 mitting sundry devastations, the Alabama 
 returned westward, in June, 1864, and 
 took refuge under the guns of Fort Du 
 Romet, off Cherbourg, a French port. At 
 the same time, the United States gun-boat 
 Kearsarge, Captain Wiuslow, 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 aj^pearance on 
 her track. Through the consular agent, a 
 8ort 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 port 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 Royal 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 Avas 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 Avell 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 sympathizers, 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. AVhen 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 battery, 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 cii-cle about 
 each other at a distance of from five hun- 
 dred to one thousand j'ards. 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 
 
S5G 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 would have made off, she was near five 
 miles fi'Oin the shore ; and, had the action 
 continued from the first in 2>iii'a,llel 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 Keai'sarge 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 track, 
 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, 
 Avith only two guns bearing, not having 
 been able to shift over but one. Caj>tain 
 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 
 dis[)layed over the stern, the fire of the 
 Kearsarge was reserved. 
 
 Two minutes had not more than elapsed 
 before the Alabama again opened fire on 
 the Kearsarge, with the two guns on the 
 port side. This drew Ca{)tain 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 
 (■ne 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 ever}' man to take care of 
 himself, which they did by jumping over- 
 board, Semmes throwing his sword into the 
 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 boj'S, 
 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 employed 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 b}'^ 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 Avere filled with 
 the wounded and wi'.h boys unable to 
 swim. 
 
 The chances of this conflict, estimated 
 from the relative strength and sjx'cd of 
 the two vessels, were nearl}' 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 length 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 hundred 
 and fifty ; of the Kearsarge, one thousand 
 and thirty. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 857 
 
 The complete armament of the Alabama 
 consisted of one seven-inch Bhikely rifle, 
 one eight-inch smooth bore sixty-eight 
 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-tw^o 
 pounders. In the combat, the Kearsarge 
 used 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 
 hundred 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 seventy-three projectiles, of 
 
 NAVAL CONTEST IiETVVEEN THE KEARSARGE AND ALABAMA. 
 
 two 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 twenty tons in ; 
 but, as an offset to this, her sheet-chains 
 were stowed outside, stopped up and down, 
 as 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 
 
858 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 after pivot gun to the fore-liatcli, unwilling 
 to take any one from his station. During 
 tlie progress of the action, lie 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 
 brouglit at length to the sui-geon, he ap- 
 peared with a smile on his face, though 
 suffering acutely from his injur3^ He 
 said, " It is all rrght, and I am satisfied, 
 for we are whipping the Alabama. I wil- 
 lingly will lose my leg or life, if it is nec- 
 essarj-." 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 "Cornhill Magazine," furnishes 
 some interesting memorabilia concerning 
 this remarkable encounter : 
 
 "But I thought you had been in the 
 confederate 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." 
 
 " JValf, I was, and was picked up with 
 him by the Deerhound." 
 
 " It was a pretty sharp light, wasn't 
 it?" 
 
 " It was that ! " 
 
 " I suppose it was the eleven-inch shells 
 that did her business ? " 
 
 "Oh, no; we never had any chance. 
 
 "We had no gunners to compare with the 
 Kearsarge's. Our gunners tired by rou- 
 tine, and when they had the gun 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. We 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; he 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 
 be 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 thej' asked me 
 what I was on the Alabama. Said I, No 
 matter Avhat I wns on the Alabama, I shall 
 be a dead man soon if you don't take me 
 
 m 
 
 )) 
 
0. 
 
 ADMIRAL FARRAGUT'S ACHIEVEMENTS AT NEW OR- 
 LEANS IN 1802, AND AT MOBILE BAY IN 18G4 ; AND 
 ADMIRAL l^ORTER'S CROWNING VICTORY 
 IN 1805, AT FORT FISHER.— 1804. 
 
 His Astonishing Feat of Running Past the Confederate Batteries — Fierce and Sanguinary Contest 
 between tlie Admiral's Flagslilp, tlie Hartford, and Admiral Buchanan's Monster Ham, the Ten- 
 nessee. — The Latter Proves Herself, for a Time, a Match lor 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 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 Tlieater of Naval Operations. — Forts, Rams, Iron- 
 Ciads, etc., to Fight — Powerful Build of the Tenne.«see. — Makes for Her Antagonist at Full Speed. — 
 Intended Running Down of the Hartford. — Farragut's Masterly Maneuvers — Unexpecteii Feature in 
 His Tactics. — Deailly Contact of the Various Oaft — Tremendous Cannonade. — The "Glory" and 
 Horrors of War. — Stuhhorn 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— flagship for flagship— I'll fight him!"— Farragut, os the Approach of the Tennessee. 
 
 EARS before the breaking out of the civil war between the national govern^ 
 
 ^3= . ment and the Southern states, in the spring of 1861, the name of David G. 
 
 . Farragut was one of the most illustrious on the roll of the United States 
 
 Navy, for those sterling qualities, both as a 
 man and officer, whicli command universal 
 respect. Having in mind, therefore, his South- 
 ern birth, and liis presumed sympatliy 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 supj^osed could influ- 
 ence his action, to side with his native south ; 
 he still refused. The men who made these 
 proposals 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 loy- 
 
 FARRAGCT'S FLAG-SUif " HAltlFORD. 
 
860 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 alty was more than liis nature could endure, 
 and, with a sudden and sailor-like burst of 
 indignation, he replied, as he pointed 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, daring 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 his indomitable heroism and splendid 
 executive abilities, and the prize obtained 
 M^as one of the richest and most important 
 ever presented by a victorious chieftain to 
 a grateful and admiring countiy. 
 
 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 uj)on 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-ofiicer'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 ]\Ia- 
 nassas, and iron-battery Louisiana. This 
 was a moment of anxiety, as no supporting 
 ship was in sight. By skillful steering, 
 hoAvever, their attempts to butt and board 
 were avoided, and after forcing three of 
 them to surrender, aid came very oppor- 
 tunely from the Varuna, Captain Boggs, 
 and the Oneida, Captain Lee. 
 
 The Cayuga received most of the first 
 fire, but was not severel}- damaged. On 
 her falling back, the flag-ship Hartfoi'd 
 took her place. The latter had only two 
 guns — which were placed on the tojD-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 battery, and in a few minutes the 
 Bi'ooklyn ranged up 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-shii^s or rafts, one of which 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 861 
 
 was pushed down upon the Havtford by 
 the ram Manassas. In his effort to avoid 
 this, Farragut ran his ship on sliore, and 
 then the fire-raft was pushed alongside, — 
 the shij) 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 tlames were extinguished, 
 and the Hartford backed ol^ 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 board 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 army 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, trying 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 sliore, 
 when the latter poured her broadside into 
 her, knocked away her smoke-stack, and 
 
 and English officers, who had been to New 
 Orleans and inspected the fortifications, 
 pronounced such an undertaking abso- 
 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 Farragut's 
 exploit, — communicated to him by a news- 
 ]iaper correspondent who boarded the 
 Minnesota at Fortress Monroe, while on 
 
862 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 his way north with dispatches, — some- 
 thing like the following conversation took 
 place : 
 
 "Commodore," said the correspondent, 
 " I have 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 lie ! 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 tlie 
 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 i)roved, 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 5th, therefore, 
 all things being ready, he went up the 
 bay, passing between Forts INIorgan 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 ; 
 Richmond, 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 twentj' min- 
 utes before eight, the Tecumseh was struck 
 by a torpedo and sunk, going down very 
 rapidly, and carrjn'ng 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 sent from the Meta- 
 comet. 
 
 The Hartford liad 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 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 863 
 
 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 IMonongahela was the first that struck 
 her, but did not succeed in disabling her. 
 The Lackawanna also struck her, but inef- 
 fectually. The llag-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 res[)ective 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 ba3^ At six o'clock in the 
 morning, August 23d, a white flag was 
 displayed by the confederates, 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 sangnin- 
 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- 
 
 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-sliip — r II f gilt liim, ! " 
 
 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 shot though 
 they were, and fired from the muzzles of 
 her guns scarcely t^Yelve 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 
 be3'ond. 
 
 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 
 
864 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 almost precisely the same reception as 
 ■with the 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 
 another, — 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. TJie viovitors had conu' iip ! 
 — 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 paj'ing him 
 their heaviest compliments. It was a ter- 
 rible fire — every ball that struck the union 
 vessels did execution, making groat 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- 
 
 0^'ION NAVAL VICTOIIY, IN MOBIL K 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 got 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 at 
 her. 
 
 In this way the plucky fellow was ter- 
 ribly i;sed. 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 they 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 865 
 
 are said to have begged to surrender, fear- 
 ing, at eveiy 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 
 unlooked 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 
 55 
 
 in the fleet, I can only consider 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 from 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 I save the 
 adviiral! Get the admiral out of the 
 ship ! " 
 
 The brave men titterly 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 — 
 
866 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 " Go on with speed ! Ram her again ! " 
 
 Onward the Hartford sped, determined 
 to ' do and die/ if need be ; hut, just before 
 she reached her, the white flag of surren- 
 der was hoisted above the discomfited 
 Tennessee, and soon all the victory, 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 usuall}' 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 ? " 
 
 "All ! " said the admiral, good natur- 
 edly, "I'll tell you all about tliat. 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 got 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 thirtj^ men killed and wounded, half 
 of whom were killed by drowning or the 
 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 lieav}- caliber, with all 
 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 and 
 three-quarter inch bolts, making five inches 
 of solid iron. This again was backed by 
 two feet of solid oak throughout the entire 
 jiortion 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 
 top, 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 
 
GREAT AND IVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 867 
 
 construction 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 Fisher, 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 
 lay 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 advance 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 hrilUant and 
 important successes of the tear. 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 Cape 
 Fear river. 
 
CI. 
 
 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. — The Southern 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. 
 
 " I beg to present yoii, a» a Chriptmns Rift, the city of SaTannah, with one hundred and fifty heavy gum, plenty of ammunition, and 
 about twenty-five thoUBand bales of cotton."— Gknehal Sherman to Presiukm Lincoln. 
 
 HEAD-QUARTERS, ATLANTA, GA, 
 
 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 — especially Avhen con- 
 sidered in connection with the 
 slight cost of life at which it 
 was achieved — presented in 
 the long and varied history 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 869' 
 
 any of them. I told them what I now tell 
 you, in all simplicity and truth, that, when 
 I was a young lieutenant of artillery, I had 
 often hunted deer in the swamps of the 
 Edisto, the Cooper, and the Santee, and had 
 seen with ray own eyes that they could be 
 passed with wagons ; that in the spring of 
 1844, I had ridden on horseback from 
 Marietta, Ga., to the valley of the Tennes- 
 see, and back to Augusta, passing in my 
 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 examjjles ? " 
 But 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 May, 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 army, 
 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 
 movement, 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 
 Cliristnuis 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 upon 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 breaking 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 rapidly, 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. 
 
870 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Hood's plan was, to force General Sher- 
 man from Georgia, by cutting off his com- 
 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 Kichols'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 restei^ on Columbia, and 
 looking up, he said— 
 
 "Howard, I bel'eve we can go there, 
 without any serioas difficulty. If we can 
 cross the Salkiihatchie, we can capture 
 Columbia." 
 
 After givir.g expression to this strik- 
 ing strategic insight. General Sherman 
 passed his finger quickly over rivers, 
 swamp3, and cities, to Goldsboro', N. C, 
 saying— 
 
 " Tliat point is a fow 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 his 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 
 
 union forces marched out of the unfoi'tu- 
 nate city with solemn tread, their band 
 playing the wild anthem, "John Brown's 
 soul goes marching on." The army num- 
 bered about sixty-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 the 
 issue, is shown by the following conversa- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 871 
 
 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 armj'. May 
 not Lee suddenly march south with the 
 bulk of his arm}', form a junction with 
 Johnston's troops, 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 i:)erlia])S defeat him?" 
 
 President Lincoln instantly replied: 
 " And jierlia'ps 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 Grants* 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 doiiH 
 know when they are ivlilpped ! " 
 
 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 aa 
 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 ta 
 Milledgeville. 
 
 The movement of troops on so many 
 points had confounded the confederates. 
 The authorities 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 
 
872 
 
 OUR FIRST CENT UK r.— 1776-1876. 
 
 - - I ..4;('-<^'^^ ^ *- ^ — ^ii c^^ - 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 873 
 
 plain 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 AVaynesboro', 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 he led the confederates to 
 fear for Augusta, and so prevented them 
 from concentrating their troops at Savan- 
 nah. Kilpatrick, supj)orted by 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 bod}', 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 Seventeentu, 'nd 
 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, oj^ened 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 thelSth, 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 — 
 
 " Lc 'jk ! 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 
 apprise that Foster and Dahlgren are 
 
874 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 
 ready to storm it. Can you assist ? " 
 
 *' Yes," is the response ; " What wall 
 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 flag-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 duty, was 
 communicated with. Lieutenant Fisher 
 was here left on board the Flag, to proceed 
 with his party up the Ogeechee, and en- 
 deavor to signal 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- 
 tery. During the night, rockets were 
 thrown up by Captain Merrill, chief of the 
 signal corps, to announce liis 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, tool< 
 Lieutenant Fisher and his party, and Cap- 
 tain Williamson, of the flag-ship, and pro- 
 ceeded up the Ogeechee, to a point 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 875 
 
 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 fiag that had floated over Gen- 
 eral Hoivard'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 
 Fisher signaled — 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 " McClintock, chief signal officer of 
 General Howard," was signaled back. 
 
 A message Avas at once sent to General 
 Sherman, tendering all aid from General 
 Foster and Admiral Dahlgren. General 
 Sherman then signaled that he was invest- 
 ing Fort 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 by 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, and 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 hiijs and rocks of the 
 Santee, the flat quagmires of the Pedee 
 and Cape Fear rivers, were all passed in 
 raid-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 
 from 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 
 
876 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 short 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 harassing 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 
 by 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, he 
 refused a commission of major-general in 
 the regular army, saying, " 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 became Gen- 
 eral OP THE Army, — a military rank 
 and title conferred only upon three per- 
 sons, since the founding of the republic, 
 namely, Washington, Grant, Sherman. 
 
CII. 
 
 FALL OF RICHMOND, VA., THE CONFEDERATE 
 
 CAPITAL.— 1865. 
 
 The Entrenched City 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. — TheiEgis 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. 
 
 "I propose to fight it out on thi» line, if it takes all summer."— Ge.veral Grant's Dispatch from the Field. 
 
 OEN. GRANT STATING TERMS OF SURRENDER. 
 
 ERXES 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 which 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 city 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 
 
 I 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 Rome was sacked, in whicli 
 
878 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Europe was saved from the Saracens, in 
 which 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 
 early summer of 1864, that General Grunt 
 commenced his final advance upon Rich- 
 
 mond, and the battles which ensued in the 
 Shenandoah and in the neighborhood of 
 Petersburg, added largely 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 confederacy, nor can the brave 
 and effective movement of General Sheri- 
 dan in the same relation be too highly 
 eulogized by his countrymen. 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 Humj^hreys 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 infantry, 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 gallantrj'^ 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- 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 879 
 
 vorably to getting possession of tlie White 
 Oak road, and was directed to do so. To 
 accon)plisli this, he moved with one divis- 
 ion, instead of his whole i-orps, which was 
 attacked by the enemy in superior force 
 ;ind driven back on the second division 
 L)efore 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 Five Forks, bvit the 
 enemy, after the affair with the fifth corps, 
 re-enforced the rebel cavalry, defending 
 that point with infantry, and forced him 
 back towards Dinwiddie Court-House. 
 Here General Sheridan displayed great 
 generalshij). Instead of retreating with 
 his whole command on the main army, to 
 tell the story of suj^erior forces encount- 
 ered, he deployed 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 W'hat had taken place, and 
 that he was dropping back slowly on Din- 
 widdie 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 in the evening, he assaulted 
 and carried his strongly fortified position, 
 rapturing all his artillery, and between 
 five and six thousaod prisoners. About 
 the close of this battle. Brevet Major- 
 General Charles Griffin relieved Major- 
 General 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 
 Juring the night, and by falling upon 
 
 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 kei)t 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 everytliing 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 w'ith 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 
 prisoners. This force retreated by the 
 main road along the Appomattox river. 
 During the night of the second, the enemy 
 
880 
 
 OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
GREAT AND MK.MOKAHLE EVENTS. 
 
 881 
 
 eraruatcd Petevshurg and Iiic/i iiioikI, and 
 ri'treated toward Danvillo. On tlic niorn- 
 iiiLi; of tlie 3d, pursuit was commenced, 
 (rcneral Sheridan pushed for tlie Danville 
 road, keeping near tlie Ai)ponKittox, fol- 
 lowed b}'^ General Meade with the second 
 and sixth corps, while General Ord moved 
 for Burkesville along the South Side road, 
 the ninth corps stretched along that road 
 behind liini," — these combined movements 
 being made with such rapidity and eti'ec- 
 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 twenty-fourth corj^s, 
 had reached Nottoway Court-House, and 
 there learned by a dispatch from Sheridan 
 that Lee had been intercepted. On Tlini-s- 
 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 Deatonsville, 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 7tb, Grant wrote briefly 
 to Lee, asking him to surrender " that 
 portion of the Confederate States army 
 known as the Army 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 t!ie 8th, Grant again wrote, 
 declaring that lie should insist upon but 
 one condition, namely: "That the men 
 surrendered ^hall be disqualified for taking 
 nj) 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 [)eace can be had are 
 well understood. lly the Soixth laying 
 down their arms they will hasten that 
 most desirable event, save thousands of 
 human lives and liuudie.ls of millions of 
 pro[)erty 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 \Vashington. 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 prettj- 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 alread}' done, if any other author- 
 ity than 3'ours is for one moment to be 
 recognized, or any terms made that do not 
 signify that you are the supreme head of 
 
i^82 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the nation. If generals in the field are 
 to negotiate peace, or any other chief 
 magistrate is to be acknowledged on the 
 continent, then you are not needed, and 
 . ou had better not take the oath of office." 
 
 '• Stanton," said the president — his 
 wliole tone changing, "you are right. Let 
 m ; liave a pen." 
 
 Ml'. Lincoln sat down at the table and 
 wrote as follows : 
 
 " The President directs me to say to 
 you that he wishes you to hav^e 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 military conferences or conven- 
 tions. In the meantime, you are to press 
 to the utmost your military advantages." 
 
 Tlie president now read over what he 
 had written, and then said — 
 
 " Xow, Stanton, date and sign this paper, 
 ind send it to Grant. We'll see about 
 tlii.s peace business." 
 
 Grant's note declining an}' interview to 
 consider terms of peace was received 
 by Lee on the spot which he had desig- 
 nated for the meeting. On 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 
 about two o'clock the two generals met at 
 the house of Mr. W. M(;Lean. General 
 Lee was attended by General Marshall, his 
 adjutant-general ; General Grant, by Colo- 
 nel Parker, one of his chief aids-do-camp. 
 General Grant arrived about fifteen min- 
 utes later than General Lee, and entered 
 the parlor where the latter was awaiting 
 iiim. 
 
 The two generals greeted each other 
 with dignified courtesy, and after a few 
 moments conversation, jiroceeded to the 
 business before tliem. Lee immediately 
 alluded to the conditions named by General 
 
 Grant for the surrender, characterized 
 them as exceedingl}- 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 ihe 
 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 by our 
 j)revious correspondence, cne 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 jiarade, 
 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 i;)leased. 
 When I yielded the other point, that the 
 officers should retai;^ their side arms and 
 private baggage and horses, his emotions 
 of satisfaction were plainly visible. We 
 soon i-educed 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, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 883 
 
 and did not again present myself to the 
 confederate commander." 
 
 The house in which this most memora- 
 ble interview took pla<;e was a comfortable 
 and well-built double brick house, with a 
 small green lawn in front. The occupant, 
 .^[r. McLean, lived in 1861 at Bull llun, 
 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 wliich 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 3'ears 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 ofiicers 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 aj^peared among them 
 he was loudly cheered. 
 
 Immediately after the evacuation of 
 Richmond, General Weitzel, M'ith the 
 second brigade of the third division of the 
 twenty-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 attendance 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, 
 (" Cai-leton,") 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. There was a sudden shout. An 
 officer 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 made 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, glory, 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 presidential 
 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 accompany- 
 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 ar.d hand- 
 kerchiefs. The soldiers saw him and 
 swelled the crowd, cheering in wild enthu- 
 siasm. All could see him, he was so tall, 
 so conspirnous. 
 
884 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 One colored woman, standing in a door- 
 way, as 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 you, Massa Linkum ! " 
 
 President Lincoln walked in silence, 
 acknowledging the salutes of officers and 
 soldiers, and of the citizens, black and 
 white. It was the man of the people 
 among the people. It was the great de- 
 liverer among the delivered. General 
 Shepley met the president in the street, 
 and escorted him to General WeitzeVs 
 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- 
 ley and Weitzel, and others. 
 
 All this took 2^1^ce only a few hours 
 after the flight of Davis. Early in the 
 forenoon of that eventful Sunda}', 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 liistorian of the southern cjuisc, 
 states that the rumor was caught uji in 
 the streets that Richmond was to be evac- 
 uated, and was r-oon carried to the ends 
 
 of the cit}'. 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 whicli 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 wi'h his army, the 
 news of the surrender of llic latter reached 
 him on the lOlh of April. Dismayed at 
 the tidings, Davis hastily 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 INIoiiroe. This was, in form, 
 the close <if the war. Gtneral Johnston 
 surrendered his army at Raleigh, N. C, 
 A[)ril 26th, to General Sherman. General 
 Howell Cobb, with his militia and five 
 
 h 
 
GREAT AND JNIEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 885 
 
 generals, surrendered to General "Wilson, 
 at IMaeon, Ga., April 20th. Gen. Dick 
 Taylor surrendered all the remaining con- 
 federate forces east of the INIississippi to 
 General Canby, ^Ma^'' 14th ; and, on the 
 2Gth of the same month, Gen. Kirby Smith 
 surrendered liis entire command, west of 
 the ]Mississipi)i, to the same officer. On 
 tlie 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 mightv strusrccle, 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 
 his countrymen, he was in 18G9 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 Be-jjossession of Fort Suviter, 
 and the restoration to its original j)l(ice on 
 that historic spot, hy General Anderson, of 
 the identical flag which, after an honora- 
 ble and gallant defense, he ft^as compelled 
 to lower in April, 1861. 
 
 This ceremony of re-occupation took 
 place, as ordered by President Lincoln, on 
 Friday, April 14th, 18G5, in presence of 
 several thousands of spectators. Among 
 the company w^ere Generals Gillmore, Dix, 
 Washburne, Doubleday, Anderson, Dela- 
 field, Grover, Hatch, and Saxton, Rev. 
 
 Henry "Ward Beecher, "William Lloyd 
 Garrison, George Thompson, Assistant Sec- 
 retary Fox, of the Navj'^ Dei)artment, 
 Professor Davis, and some two hundred 
 officers 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. 
 Rev. Dr. Storrs, of Brooklyn, then read 
 selections of scripture, after which, Adju- 
 tant-General Townsend read Major Ander- 
 son's dispatch, dated steamship Baltic, off 
 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- 
 
886 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 siderate appointment of the honored secre- 
 tary of war to fulfill the cherished wish of 
 my 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, Rev. 
 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 others, the vast mul- 
 titude separated. 
 
 f 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
cm. 
 
 ASSASSINATION OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN, AT FORD'S 
 THEATER, WASHINGTON, BY J. WILKES 
 
 BOOTH.— 1865. 
 
 Conspiracy to Murder, Simultaneously, all the Chi ^ Officers of the Government —The Most Exalted 
 and Beloved of Mortal Rulers Fails a Victim — A Universal Wail of Anguish and Lamentation 
 Poured Forth from the National Heart.— Darkest Pafie in tlie History of the Country —Funeral Cor- 
 tege Through Fifteen States.— Tragical Fate of the Conspirators.— Ol>ject of this Most Infamous ot 
 Crimes —Singular Time of its rerpetratlon.— Virtual End of the Great Civil War— Dawn of Peace : 
 Universal Joy. — President Lincoln's Happy Frame of Mind. — How He Passed His Last Day. — Con- 
 versations on the Evening of April 14th. — Makes an Engagement for the Morrow — Last Time He 
 Signed His Name. — Reluctantly Goes to the Tiieater.— 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 
 nnd Bloody End.— Trial of His Male and Female 
 % Accomplices. 
 
 — " Mourn ye for him ? let him be regarded 
 As the most noble coise that ever herald 
 Did lollow to his urn." 
 
 Mil. LINCOLN'S EARLY HOME. 
 
 EVIEWING the great procession of events 
 which 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 terrible a page, — none which so paralyzed the heart of the nation, or 
 sent such 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 officers 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 Slierman had consummated his 
 grand march from Atlanta to Savannah, and thence through South Carolina ; all the 
 
888 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 i-hief cities of the south were occupied b}' 
 the union forces ; Lee liad surrendered 
 his sword, and President Lincoln iiad jvist 
 visited the city of Riclitnond, so recently 
 the confederate sti-onghold; and Jefferson 
 Davis was a fugitive, who had tlien barely 
 escaped capture. The demonstrations of 
 joy at tlie now certain conclusio;! of hostil- 
 ities, and the dawn of peace, were univer- 
 sal; and by no one, in all tiie land, was 
 this joy shared so fully as by President 
 Lincoln. 
 
 Of the president's happy frame of mind, 
 now that victory Ji.id everywhere crowned 
 the federal arms, and he was entering on 
 
 FOKO'S TUEATIOK IX WASHINGTON. 
 
 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 INIr. 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 re2)lied that lie 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 j\tr. 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 
 • vent 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 lir.e, too, INfr. Welles. The dream is, 
 that 1 saw a ship sailing verj' rapidlj', and 
 I am sure that it jiortends some important 
 national event." 
 
 In the aftcir.oon, the jiresident 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 880 
 
 an interview with the president, on hnsi- 
 ness which had a bearing on liis })roposed 
 overhmd trip. A few moments elapsed, 
 wlien President Lincoln entered the room, 
 and engaged in conversation upon various 
 matters, appearing to be in a very hapi>y 
 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 
 tlien, the president took out a card, and 
 j)lacing 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 tl.e 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 signing 
 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 you tell him for me to hand it over." 
 
 Mr. Ashmun here pleasantl}' alluded to 
 the gavel which he himself still had — llie 
 same one he had used when presiding over 
 the Chicago Nominating Convention of 
 1860. 
 
 President Lincoln finally stated that he 
 must go lo 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 j)eoiile 
 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 3'ou at San Erancisco." 
 
 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-by, — Good- 
 by," to Messrs. Ashmun and Colfax. A 
 few moments later, and the jiresidential 
 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 bj^ 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 
 
890 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 THE ASSAS.Sl>ATluN OF I'KliSlDENT LINCOLN. 
 
 minutes after ten, passed along tlie pas- 
 sage behind the spectators in the dres.-- 
 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 plaidc 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 stejiped 
 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. 
 's head fell slightly forward, 
 and his eyes closed, but in every other 
 respect his attitude remained unchanged. 
 The report of the pistol startled those 
 in the box, and Major Rathbone, 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 towards him and 
 seized him ; but Booth wrested himself 
 from his grasp, and, drojiping 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 box, shouted 
 "Sic scivjjer ft/mnnis / " — 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, " Tlie Soutli is 
 avenr/ed ! '^ He then rvished across the 
 stage towards the passage which led to the 
 
GREAT AND MEMOEAP.LE EVENTS. 
 
 891 
 
 stage door in the re.ar of the theater. An 
 actor name<l Hawke was the only person 
 on the stage when Booth leaped upon it, 
 and seeing Booth coming towards him 
 with the dagger in his hand, he ran oU 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 
 which 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, safely 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 physicians 
 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 
 
 HOUSE WHEUE LINCOLN PIED. 
 
 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- 
 ets and were suffused with blood. 
 
 At his bedside wei-e 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, 
 Kev. Doctor Gurley, the physicians, 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 li""^ 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, Avith his head bowed down 
 almost upon the pillow of the bed. In an 
 adjoining room were ]\Irs. Lincoln, and 
 several others. 
 
 Mrs. L'ncoln 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 constantly 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 Avith 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. Occasionally, 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 premonitions 
 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 
 
892 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ceased. He would again rally and breathe 
 Avith 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. 
 Wlien this announcement was made, she 
 exclaimed, " Oh ! why did you not tell me 
 that he was dying ! " 
 
 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, 
 till' physician said, with solemn accent and 
 overpowering emotion, — 
 
 " Ha is gone ; lie is dead." 
 
 Such was the deep stillness, in that 
 awful presence, at the fatal announcement. 
 
 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 Gurle}-, 
 " Doctor, will you say anything ? " He 
 replied, " I will speak to God." " Do it 
 just now," responded the secretary. And 
 there, by the side of the fallen chief, a fer- 
 vent prayer was offered wp, 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 north 
 to the prairies and valleys of the west and 
 the golden sIojjos 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 893 
 
 with the particulars. He said, tliat wlion 
 he dispossessed liimself 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 imi)osing 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 cofRn resting 
 upon a magnificent catafalque, and the 
 
 The description given b}' Holland, of 
 the procession in the federal metropolis, 
 will ap[)l3', 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 fortifica- 
 tions. The body of the president was 
 borne into the rotunda, where Doctor Gur- 
 ley completed the religious exercises of the 
 
 I,IKCOL>'S RESIDENCE AT SPRINGFIELD, 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 
 convej-ed, 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, 
 111. 
 
 occasion. Here the remains rested, ex- 
 posed to public view, but guarded by sol- 
 diery, until the next daj'. 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 
 
894 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 deep 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 Sjiringfield was on a 
 beautiful May day. At noon, the remains 
 were brought from the state house, in the 
 same hearse which had borne the bodies 
 
 SEUGF.AXT DOSTO.V CORBETT. 
 
 of General Lyon and Thomas H. Benton. 
 Tlie 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." Tlie ceremonies 
 were under the immediate direction of 
 General Hooker. A dirge was sung ; and 
 after tlie reading of scripture, a prayer, 
 and a hymn, tlie president's second inau- 
 gural address was read. A dirge suc- 
 ceeded, after which Bishop Simpson de- 
 livered the funeral oration before tlie great 
 audience tliere asseml)led, and from the 
 midst of Avhich went forth many an ejacu- 
 lation of uncontrollable sorrow. 
 
 And the illustrious axd belovt;d 
 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-conspira- 
 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 
 Booth'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 jilans. 
 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. 
 jVEudd 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 pr- si- 
 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 suc« 
 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 twentv-five 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 895 
 
 mounted men to aid liini in the pursuit. 
 Tliese were sent under Lieutenant Dough- 
 ertv, and Baker i)laiH'd them under the 
 control of Lieutenant-Colonel Conger, and 
 of his cousin, Lieutenant L. B. Baktir, and 
 diopatched them to ]>elle Plain, with 
 orders to scour the country about Bort 
 Ivoyal. 
 
 At Port Royal they found one Rollins, 
 a fisherman, who referred them to a negro 
 named Lucas as having driv^en 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 wa^ then repeated. 
 "They 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 young boy was 
 sent in to receive their arms. To the 
 boy's message Booth answered with a 
 curse, accusing the boy of having betrayed 
 
 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 Avith 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, 
 
89G 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-187G. 
 
 while his teeth were fixed, and he wore 
 the expression of one in the calmness pre- 
 ceding frenz}'. 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. 
 As 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 (says Lieutenant 
 Congei*, in his official account), I supposed 
 
 BURIAL PLACK OF LIXCOLX. 
 
 eran stands amidst the hail of liall and 
 shell and plunging iron, ]^ooth turned at 
 a man's stride and pushed for the door, 
 weapon in poise, and the last resolve of 
 death — despair — set on his high, bloodless 
 forehead. 
 
 At this instant, Sergeant Boston Cor- 
 
 him to be dead; he had all the appearance 
 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, "Tell my 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 897 
 
 mother I died for my country." I re- 
 peated the words to him, and said, " Is 
 tliat wluit you would say ? " He said 
 " Yes." They carried him to the porch of 
 Garrett's house, and laid him on a straw 
 h(.'(l or tii'k. 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 thouGjht there w^as 
 blood in his throat. I asked him to jnit 
 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 you 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 Clendenin, 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 Payne 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 armv and navy of a 
 
 constitutional commander-in-chief, and to 
 67 
 
 prevent a lawful election of president ajid 
 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 i)resi- 
 dential electors. The arraignment of all 
 the parties was upon this general charge, 
 with specifications in each case. 
 
 Against Payne, the specification was 
 tliat 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 w'ith a 
 dasecer 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'Laughlin was to take the 
 
S'J8 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 life of General Grant, and on this 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 the intended crime almost from 
 its inception, becoming an active partici- 
 pant and general manager. With Doctor 
 Madd, 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 Doctor 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 
 mouths 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 esca[»e of both Booth and 
 Harold. When the officers called at his 
 
 house, soon after the assassination, he 
 denied that he knew either of the crimin- 
 als, but subsequently, 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 sixj'ears of hard labor, at the 
 same place. John H. Surratt, son of ]\Irs. 
 Surratt above named, and avIio was also 
 indicted, fled to Europe ; being discovered, 
 he was arrested and sent to Washington, 
 but, after a protracted trial by jury, es- 
 caped conviction. 
 
ciy. 
 
 SUCCESSFUL LAYING OF THE TELEGRAPH CABLE 
 ACROSS THE ATLANTIC OCEAN.— 1866. 
 
 Tlie Old World and the New United by Instantaneous Communication. — Pronounced the Grandest of 
 Human Enterprises— Ten Years of Difficulty and Failure in the Mighty Task — The Name of Its 
 IndomiUbie Projector Crowned with Immortal Honor— Illustrations of the Power and Wonders of 
 this New-Born Agent of Civihzation. — Ocean Telegraphs Early Predicted — First Attempt in 1857. — 
 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 
 Inliabitants —Voyage of the Fleet to America — Incidents and Accidents. — Intense Solicitude, Day 
 and Night.— A Joyous Morning ! July 27tli.— Perfect Success from End to End —First News Dispatch, 
 Peace in Europe. — Messages Between the President and Queen. — Compliments to Mr. Field.— Hig 
 Interview with Lord Clarendon —John Bright's Sparkling Tribute.— Moral Uses of the Cable. 
 
 "Heart's Co!fTENT, July 27th. "We arrived here at nine o'clock, this morning. AllwelL Thank God, the cable is laid, and i« in perfect 
 irorkiDg order.— CrKus W. hiBLD. 
 
 SECTIOX OF THE ATLANTIC CABLE. 
 
 ^NECESSARY would be the task of detailing, in this 
 place, — additional to those pages already devoted to Pro- 
 fessor Morse's grand discovery, and its jiractical 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 
 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 insuj^erable obstacle to the laying of submerged oceanic lines from conti- 
 nent to continent, and the 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 2Gth 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 paying 
 out on the seventh, the arrangement being that the Agamemnon should begin opera- 
 tions 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 in 1858. The ends of the cable were joined 
 
900 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 in mid-ocean, July 29th, and, August 6th, 
 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 disajipointment to those engaged in 
 the great and costly enterprise, did not 
 destroy their faith in its feasibility, and 
 the might}' 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' thouglit, 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 medium 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 wdiich tarred hemp was 
 wrapped, and over this, the outside cover- 
 ing, consisting of eighteen strands of the 
 best quality of iron wire, — each strand 
 composed of seven distinct wires, twisted 
 spirally, in tlie most approved manner, by 
 machinery specially adapted to the pur- 
 pose. Such was the exquisitely constructed 
 cable used on this occasion. 
 
 Great attention was also paid to the 
 arrangement of the apparatus for paying 
 out. The machine for this ])uri)ose was 
 I)laced on deck in the after-i)art of the 
 vessel, and somewhat on the starboard side, 
 
 to be clear of the mast, etc. The cable, as 
 it came vip 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 piston, inside of a 
 cylinder, full of water. This piston, being 
 made not quite large enough to fit the 
 cylinder, the water liad room to play about 
 it, but with difficulty — so that, yielding 
 freely to CAerj^ 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 
 l^assed over a wheel or sheave projecting 
 well over the stern of the ship, and so 
 down into the ocean dejiths. 
 
 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 AV. 
 Field, — might well be su] posed incapable 
 of yielding 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 conve^'ance 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 plainlj' what had 
 been the errors of the past, and what 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 901 
 
 should be the governing rules of future 
 operations. Among these facts and princi- 
 ples were the following : 
 
 It was proved by tlie expedition of 1858, 
 that a submarine telegraph cable could be 
 laid between Ireland and Newfoundland, 
 and messages transmitted. 
 
 By the expedition of 18G5 — 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 difficulty in mooring buoys in the deep 
 waters of the Atlantic between Ireland 
 and Newfoundland, and that two buoys 
 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 18G5, 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 
 
 4(r^uAib 
 
 existence of a fault immediately after its 
 production or development, and very 
 quickly to ascertain its position in the 
 cable ; and, finally, 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 u[)on for another effort, the 
 Great Eastern to be employed for the pur- 
 
902 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 Avas 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 telegi-aph 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 Med way, 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 squadron. 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- 
 pany. 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 lay the shore 
 end. She arrived olf 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 
 Racoon, 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 triumj^hant. 
 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 boj'S 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 by bits of string and 
 tape — the good old parish priest, who exer- 
 cises mild and 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 — 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 9C3 
 
 the bright e^'es, supple figures, and inno- 
 cent faces of the peasant hisses, 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 oflfi- 
 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 
 heavy 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 
 extricate 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. M., 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 
 w^orked with hearty good will. 
 
 On the morning of Friday, at eight 
 o'clock, July 27th, the ship arrived at 
 
904 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 tlie 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 Coxtext, Jnhj 27. We 
 arrived here at nine o'clock, this morning. 
 All well. Thank God, the cable is laid, 
 and is in perfect ivorhing order. 
 
 Cviius 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 
 the 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- 
 spheres may serve to strengthen and to 
 perpetuate peace and amity between the 
 Government of England and the RejDublic 
 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, Egj'pt, 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 graphicallj' said that it came from the 
 farthest East, from the land of the Pha- 
 raohs and Ptolemies ; it passed along the 
 shores of Africa, and under the Mediter- 
 ranean, more than a thousand miles, to 
 I^falta; thence it leaped to the continent, 
 and shot across Italy, and over the Aljis, 
 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 watery plain, resting not 
 till it touched the shore of the New "World. 
 Thus, in its morning's flight, it had passed 
 
GREAT AND IMEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 905 
 
 ARRIVAL OF THE GREAT 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 Saturday, 
 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 
 Yorli journal — bj' 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 Erancisco out of eighteen thousand 
 dollars, and, getting on board the Pacific 
 Mail steamship, tied 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 
 ccean. But, a telegram from San Fran- 
 cisco bears the tidings of his crime to New 
 York. New York sends it by cable aci-oss 
 the Atlantic to London, London through 
 
 France and under the Mediterranean to 
 Alexandria, Alexandria by the Red Sea 
 and Persian Gulf to Bombay, Bomba}^ 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- 
 ning' of 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 pronounced 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, ivith a 
 hatter]/ formed in a larlifs thinihle ! And 
 now Mr. Collett writes me from Heart's 
 Content : " I have just sent my compli- 
 
906 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1S76. 
 
 merits 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 simjile 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 personally 
 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 see 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 donH succeed ? Sup- 
 pose you 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, when 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 ; / dkhiH Icvoiv iliat you ever 
 slept / " — a most pertinent and deserved 
 tribute to the man whose indomitable faith 
 and energy was finally crowned with im- 
 mortal success. 
 
cv. 
 
 COMPLETION" OF THE PACIFIC RAILROAD.— 1869. 
 
 Spikes of the Richest Gold and a Hammer of Pure Silver Used in Laying the Last Kail. — The Blows 
 of the Sledge Telegraphed to All tiie Great Cities. — The Wide Continent Spanned with Iron from the 
 Farthest East to the Golden Gate — Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. — Seven Days from 
 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 " Ontral " 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 the 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 Two 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 Principd Cities. — Easy Journey Around the World. 
 
 "Thp li»t mil is laid-the last »pike driven— the Pacific Railroad is completed 1"— Official Teleobam FEOM Pboicontoet Poiitt, 
 OcTObEK loth, IdtiU 
 
 MOUXTAIX SCEXE OX THE PACIFIC nAILEOAD. 
 
 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 Pacific 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 da^-s of 
 creation, had rolled in majestic solitude ; 
 gulfs, frightful and tumultuous, were 
 spanned; frowning heights were climbed 
 and leveled ; and abyssmal depths were 
 fathome(\ 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 such a 
 line of communication had for years been 
 
908 
 
 our. FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 repeatedly urged, it was not until 1859 
 that a bill was carried through congress, 
 authorizing the grand scheme. This bill, 
 — 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, tlie 
 northern, the southern, and the central. 
 But the breaking out of the civil war 
 /•hecked 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 surveys 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 
 snow-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 January, 
 1863, the first grading was done, — the 
 
 occasion being signalized with great re- 
 joicing as a general holiday, — and, even so 
 early as June, 1864, thirt3'-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 comj^anies, 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 Ogderi fixed as the point of junc- 
 tion, and the Union urged IMonument 
 
GEEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 909 
 
 Point ; the matter was at last settled by a 
 decision in favor of the former. The dan- 
 gers to wliii;h 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 tierce 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 j^rogress of the country, was cer- 
 tainly to be expected. Nor is it to be 
 wondei'ed at that the original jiick 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 blow on the 
 Uiiiofi Pacific rail rood, Omaha, Decem- 
 ber 2, 1863. Pickers : Thomas Acheson, 
 Wilson F. Williams, George Francis Train, 
 Peter A. Day." 
 
 " Shooel used by George Saunders, to 
 move the first earth in the Union Pacific 
 railroad, Omaha, Neb., December 3, 1863. 
 Shovelers : Alvin Saunders, governor of 
 Nebraska ; B. E. B. Kennedy, ma^'or 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 dis- 
 
 tance, by the iron tra(;k, 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 
 materials for construction and subsistence 
 had to be transported under sutdi 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 ma- 
 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 imjires- 
 sion of the activity 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 
 particular!}' that portion of the line run- 
 ning among the Sierra Nevada mountains, 
 necessitated tunneling, cutting, and tres' 
 tie-bridging, on a 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 rotk, and onl}^ 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 of 
 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 ; 
 and the trestle at Secrettown, one thou- 
 
910 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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, seventy-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 lying 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 
 AVest, and emigration westward populate 
 territories and turn them into states as if 
 by magic. By means of this new and 
 wonderful highway, the distance from 
 New York to San Francisco would be 
 traversed by passengers in six or seven 
 days, instead of tliree 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 groat island of Australia, 
 would pass over the railway, — the land 
 
 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 dexterity ; 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 indica- 
 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 tlie 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 
 
GREAT AND IVIEMOKABLE EVENTS. 
 
 911 
 
 on every connecting telegraph instrument 
 between San Franoisco and Portland, 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 
 territory 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 Pittsiield, 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 EAILROAD. 
 
 " nibbed with iron, clad in silver, and 
 croivned ivlth gold, Arizona jjresents her 
 offering to the enterprise that has banded 
 every continent and dictated a new path- 
 wag to commerce.'' 
 
 The crowd fell back at the request of 
 General Casement, and the artist for the 
 Union Pacific railroad photograi)hed the 
 scene, with the locomotives confronting 
 each other, and Chinese and Caucasian 
 laborers confronting the work. It was 
 now announced that the last blow was to 
 
 would be found necessary to accommodate 
 the traffic which would seek transit across 
 the continent, and closing with the happy 
 summons — " Kow, getttlemen, with your 
 assistance, toe will proceed to lag 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- 
 
912 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 propliecy 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 
 Diirant 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- 
 nounced the great ivoi'h done ! The si- 
 lence of the multitude was now broken, 
 and a prolonged shout went forth, which, 
 while it 3'et 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 officers, 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, Avorded thus : 
 
 " Tlie 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 Citj-." 
 
 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 th ' last spike would be announced by 
 the wires. Vix. 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; pra^-er 
 is being offered." A silence for the i;rayer 
 ensued. At 2.40 the bell tapped again, 
 and the office at the Point said — " We 
 have got done prating. The spike is 
 about to be presented." Chicago rej^lied 
 — "We iinderstand. All are ready in the 
 East." Promontor}'' 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^ ttoo, three — 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 hlows 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 liy electricit}', and by 
 the same agent all the fire-bells in the city 
 were rung. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 913 
 
 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 bj 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 peop'e 
 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 thr wn 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 thirt}^ 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 
 58 
 
 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- 
 ijig dispatch, dated at Promontory' 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 arra)' of mail- 
 wagons with post-office eraplo^^es, 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 assembly', sjieak- 
 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 
 Cliambers 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 unit}' 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- 
 
914 
 
 OUE FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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, the 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 
 Hall, 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 
 througrhout the union, the event was cele- 
 brated with great spirit. Even as far east 
 as Springfield, Mass., the jubilee spirit 
 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 Eail- 
 road,' ' For San Francisco, connecting with 
 ferry to China,' etc., were conspicuous. 
 
 Eeturning 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 the 
 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 
 the marked features of the day ; and, at 
 about half-past one, the 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 work 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 Avorld, 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 da^'s by seA'eral lines of 
 steamers touching at Singapore, Ceylon, 
 Madras, or ports on the coast of Burmah. 
 From Calcut*:a, a railroad runs far up into 
 the north of India, on the borders of 
 Cashmere and Afghanistan, 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 Egypt, in 
 twelve or thirteen daj's 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-c-ontinental 
 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. 
 
CVI. 
 
 NATIONAL PEACE JUBILEE AND MUSICAL FESTIVAL, 
 
 IN BOSTON, IN HONOR OF THE EESTORATION 
 
 OF THE UNION OF THE STATES.— 1869. 
 
 Ten Thousand Singers, an Orchestra of One Thousand Instruments, and Tens of Thousands of Spec- 
 tators, in the Coliseum, an Immense Building Erected for the Occasion. — Attendance of President 
 Grant. — Sublime and Inspiring Harmonies. — Most Majestic Musical Demonstration of Modern Times. 
 — Origin of the Jubilee. — P. S. Gilraore : His Zeal and Enthusiasm. — All Discouragements Overcome. 
 — Magnificent Programme. — Splendor of the Coliseum. — It Covers Nearly Four Acres. — Inauguration 
 Ceremonies. — View of the Audience. — Scene of Surpassing Enchantment. — Beauty of the Decora- 
 tions — Overtures, Clioruses, Anthems, Etc — Parepa Rosa, Phillipps, Ole Bull. — Their Professional 
 Triumphs. — Zerrahn, Tourjee, Eichberg. — The Famous "Anvil" Chorus. — Chiming the City Bells. 
 — Novel Comniiiigling of Artillery with Music — Tremendous Ovation to Grant. — Half a Milhon 
 People in the City — Testimonial to Mr. Gilmore — Last Day : Concert by Ten Thousand Children. 
 — Triumphant Success of the Jubilee. 
 
 "Let ushave peace! "—Genekal Gbawt, in bis Letteb ACCEPTina thb PBESiDKriiAL Nominatiow. 
 
 OUR long and welcome years of peace had been enjoyed by the American people, 
 since the greatest of civil wars ever waged suddenly ceased its 
 wasting horrors, by the surrender of the army of Lee to General 
 Grant, and that of Johnston to General Sherman. But, as yet, no 
 special commemorative celebration of the momentous event had 
 taken place in any part of the land — except that outburst of joy 
 and satisfaction in all parts, with which the final grounding of 
 arms was greeted. A happy local conception for supplying this 
 omission, to some extent, was that of the well-known organizer of 
 musical bands and leader of instrumental concerts, Mr. P. S. Gil- 
 more, of Boston. His plan, or programme, was that of a Grand 
 National Peace Jubilee in that city, on the 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 
 and 19th of June, 1869,— the grandest outpouring of sublime and patriotic music, ever 
 heard upon the American continent. It was to be a demonstration which, in magnitude 
 and splendor, would represent the greatest cause for national rejoicing which the Amer- 
 ican people were ever called upon to celebrate, and in which the glad voices of a 
 reunited nation should mingle in one common song of thanksgiving to the Almighty, 
 for the return of those blessings which years of terrible strife had withheld ; — an occa- 
 sion which should bring together, in fraternal greeting, the leading men of the republic, 
 throughout all its borders, and, aside from its imposing significance as the first national 
 re-union since the close of the war, should also be the greatest feast of inspiring har- 
 mony — majestic choruses, anthems of adoration, military and patriotic compositions, 
 
916 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 oratorio and symphony, and the divinest 
 airs from Mozart and Meyerbeer — ever 
 heard in any part of the world. 
 
 The choruses, it was further proposed, 
 should be performed by ten to fifteen 
 thousand voices, comprising the very best 
 singers obtainable ; the orchestra to con- 
 sist of one thousand players, including 
 the leading bands and most skillful musi- 
 cians in the United States ; also, a vast 
 and powerful organ, together with the 
 accompanying effects of artillery, chiming 
 of bells, and other accessories. The whole 
 to be held in an immense coliseum, capa- 
 ble of accommodating fifty thousand per- 
 sons, and to be magnificently decorated 
 with historical emblems of state and na- 
 tional progress since the formation of the 
 Union. 
 
 So vast and novel an undertaking was 
 naturally looked upon somewhat distrust- 
 fully, at first, by those to whom it was 
 unfolded. One of the warmest of Mr. 
 Gilmore's friends, on listening to an ex- 
 position of the plan, remarked, " Why, 
 Gilmore, that is an idea fit for an emperor, 
 and it will take an emperor to carry it 
 out." "Then," laughingly responded Mr. 
 Gilmore, " I must become an emperor." 
 Discouraged and ridiculed by others, he 
 never flagged for a moment in energetic- 
 ally urging the co-operation of influential 
 men in behalf of his plan, and gave wide 
 publicity to it; from one end of the land 
 to the other. At leiigth, opposition began 
 to die away ; men of patriotism and 
 wealth pledged themselves to the enter- 
 prise ; letters strongly endorsing it were 
 received from eminent officials ; and prom- 
 ises of participation freely flowed in from 
 musicians and musical societies. An as- 
 sociation was now formed of prominent 
 gentlemen, conspicuous in political, pro- 
 fessional, and business circles, for thorough 
 and effective work, in forwarding the proj- 
 ect to a speedy and complete consumma- 
 tion. 
 
 On the 29th of March, work on the great 
 building was commenced, and it soon grew 
 up to its full proportions, majestic in size 
 and strength, — the largest edifice that had 
 
 ever been erected on this continent. The 
 size of the building was three hundred 
 feet by five hundred ; the height of its 
 roof, one hundred feet, and of its side 
 walls thirty-six ; and the promenade was 
 more than a fourth of a mile in length. 
 The interior was gorgeously decorated ; 
 folds of blue, brown and gold, depending 
 from the galleries, and rich frescoings and 
 many-tinted banners everywhere meeting 
 the eye. On the side arches, colossal 
 angels bore up the inscription " Peace," 
 and over the central arch was the Song of 
 the Annunciation, " Glory to God in the 
 Highest, Peace on Earth, Good Will 
 toward Men." In the rear of these arches, 
 on each flank of the organ, appeared me- 
 dallions, one representing St. Cecilia, at- 
 tended by heavenly beings, who are listen- 
 ing to her playing, and the other repre- 
 senting David and his harp. The great 
 roof was supported by four ranges of 
 pillars, eighteen in each range. Those 
 which ran along the front of the galleries 
 bore each the coat-of-arms of a State of 
 the Union, with flags rayed from it, and 
 an eagle above ; while on the two central 
 ranges of pillars the banners bore the 
 colors of foreign nations, the portraits of 
 great composers, and other emblems. The 
 main ceiling was hung with tri-colored 
 streamers, and the faces of the galleries 
 were elegantly frescoed. The end of the 
 wall behind the spectators was also superb 
 in its adornments, including a mighty 
 Angel of Peace, with her right hand 
 raised, and holding forward the sj'mbols 
 of harmony and peace, while with her 
 left hand she waved behind her the 
 sanguinary implements of war. The coat- 
 of-arms of Massachusetts and the city seal 
 of Boston appeared on either flank. The 
 building covered some three or four acres. 
 As the day appointed for the opening 
 services approached, the interest in the 
 event became intense in every part of the 
 country, and Boston was crowded as it 
 never had been before by hosts of strangers. 
 Everybody and everything wore a holiday 
 appearance. Citizens from every State in 
 the Union were there. 
 
GREAT AND IVIEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 917 
 
 At aboiit three o'clock in the afternoon, 
 the opening exercises of the celebration 
 commenced as follows: Prayer, by Rev. 
 E. E. Hale ; address of welcome, by Mayor 
 Slmrtleff; oration, by Hon. A. H. Rice. 
 But it was the musical feature of the 
 occasion for which the tens of thousands 
 gathered together in that vast and mag- 
 nificent scene were anxiously waiting. 
 The immense amphitheater, two hundred 
 feet in depth from the front of the orches- 
 tra by three hundred feet in width, was 
 filled to its utmost capacity with the ten 
 thousand ladies and gentlemen who formed 
 the grand chorus, and its base or front 
 center was occupied by the orchestra of 
 one thousand instruments. Be- 
 hind the orchestra was the big 
 drum, eight feet in diameter and 
 eight feet high, and, further 
 back, beyond the central seats 
 of the choir, rose the organ, 
 thirty feet in height. A look 
 at the orchestra from the ex- 
 treme north end of the building 
 presented a sight witnessed only 
 once in a life-time. 
 
 The greatest celebrity noticed 
 as 3'et among the musicians was 
 Carl Rosa, who was seated 
 among the violins, and beside 
 whom there was a vacant chair. 
 Presently there was burst of 
 cheers, as the tall, graceful, and 
 dignified form of Ole Bull was 
 seen wending his wavdown from the back 
 to take his seat as the leader of the violin- 
 ists. And now there was a perfect torrent 
 of applause, as Mr. Gilmore advanced to 
 open the programme. It was a proud 
 moment for him, as he stood there, to 
 reflect that this, the greatest of musical 
 festivals, sprang up under his magic wand. 
 Another warm welcome was in store for 
 Mr. Eichberg, Mr. Zerrahn, Mr. Tourjee, 
 Madame Parepa-Rosa, Miss Pliillipps, and 
 other leaders, as they made their appear- 
 ance. 
 
 Luther's great choral, '• God is a castle 
 and defense," began the grand perform- 
 ances, and as, in magnificent strength 
 
 and beauty, the vast volume of pure sound 
 arose from ten thousand voices and a 
 thousand instruments, the grandeur of the 
 effect was indescribable. To this suc- 
 ceeded the Tannhauser overture, exciting 
 and entrancing the senses and filling the 
 soul with weird and peculiar pleasure ; and 
 then came the " Gloria," from Mozart's 
 Twelfth Mass. In Gounod's "Ave Maria," 
 Madame Parepa-Rosa made her appear- 
 ance as the first soloist of the jubilee. 
 She was clad in faultless w*hite, and re- 
 ceived a tremendous ovation. The accom- 
 paniment of two hundred chosen violins, 
 led by Bull, Carl Rosa, Schultze, Suck, 
 Meisel, Eichberg, and others, began sweet- 
 
 ly', thrilling! y. and tenderly, adding to the 
 anxiety of the audience. Suddenly a note, 
 clear, sublime, and heard above all else and 
 to the farthest corner of the hall, began the 
 "Ave Maria," which the prima donna sang 
 with matchless skill. In this, as also in 
 the beautiful " Inflammatus," she was en- 
 cored with a fervor such as no woman ever 
 saw manifested by an audience before. 
 The scene was enchanting. 
 
 At the conclusion of the first part of 
 the concert, the "Star Spangled Banner" 
 was given with grand and overpowering 
 effect, producing the wildest excitement 
 in the audience. The choral combinations 
 of the parts used in the piece were very 
 
918 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 ingenious, and, in addition to these, the 
 aid of a great military band, of an immense 
 drum corps, and of artillery, was given to 
 the chorus, orchestra and organ. The 
 artillery firing, by means of electricity, 
 was a novel and most striking feature in 
 this piece, as was also the ringing of the 
 bells of the city in unison, from the tele- 
 graph stand. 
 
 In the second part, the "Hymn of 
 Praise," composed for the occasion by Dr. 
 0. W. Holmes, and set to the music of 
 Keller's American Hymn, was the first 
 piece, and was beautifully and nobly exe- 
 cuted. After this came Rossini's overture 
 to William Tell, the performance of which 
 was pronounced to be the sublimest orches- 
 tral rendering ever given in America — 
 true, wonderful, and lovely, revealing in 
 most remarkable beauty, the noble melo- 
 dies and harmonies of the composition. 
 After the " Coronation March," from Mey- 
 erbeer, came the " Anvil Chorus " from 
 " II Trovatore," producing a tremendous 
 sensation among the audience and receiv- 
 ing an uproarious encore. The pictur- 
 esque hundred firemen, in black pants, red 
 shirts, and white caps, did their duty 
 admirably, beating their anvils with fine 
 effect, and with such precision as not to 
 miss a note amid the rapid cadences which 
 the orchestra gave with such force. " My 
 Country, 'tis of Thee," with the same 
 novel accessories as the " Star Spangled 
 Banner," concluded the first day's concert 
 most appropriately^, the audience joining 
 in the last stanza with magnificent effect. 
 The hundred anvils were ranged in four 
 rows, extending from near the front of the 
 platform to the back of the orchestra stage. 
 No words can adequately describe the 
 transporting effect of this first day's per- 
 formance upon the thousands assembled 
 under that vast roof. A distinguished 
 gentleman sent the following telegram to 
 his wife, at the close of the concert: 
 "Nothing like it in a life-time. Will 
 make any sacrifice to have you here Thurs- 
 day. Come by express train." 
 
 The second day of the jubilee was ren- 
 dered still more exciting and memorable 
 
 by the presence of the chief magistrate of 
 the nation. General Grant. The popular 
 success of the great national festival prov- 
 ed, under these circumstances, absolutely 
 enormous. The Common was covered with 
 people, and the streets were so crowded 
 that motion was almost impossible. The 
 military marched with much difficulty 
 along a portion of the route, and around 
 the coliseum the mass of people became so 
 dense all day, that it was difficult to ap- 
 proach the doors. Many of the hotels and 
 restaurants were even forced to lock their 
 doors, to keep out the hungry multitude 
 whom they could not supply. 
 
 A constant ovation attended the presi- 
 dent's reception until he reached the 
 coliseum, and there he found acres of 
 humanity waiting his entrance. The par- 
 lor to which the illustrious guest was con- 
 ducted exhibited most elegant taste, in 
 keeping with all the appointments of the 
 magnificent edifice throughout. The walls 
 were tinted and paneled in fresco ; dra- 
 pery, and lace curtains, and cornices en- 
 riched the windows ; beautiful carpeting 
 covered the floor ; splendid sets of black 
 walnut furniture were provided ; and then 
 there were rustic baskets filled with the 
 choicest cut flowers suspended from nu- 
 merous points, elegant and spacious mir- 
 rors and choice paintings hung upon the 
 walls, and superb works of art contributed 
 to the admirable to2(t e^isemhle of the 
 apartment. Here the distinguished guest 
 received the courtesies of the originator of 
 the jubilee and his colleague, after which 
 he proceeded to the audience hall. 
 
 As the president passed down the cen- 
 ter aisle of the building to his seat, arm 
 in arm with Governor Claflin, followed by 
 Admirals Farragut and Hudson, Commo- 
 dore Winslow, Secretary Boutwell, Mayor 
 Shurtleff, and others, the vast assembly 
 started to their feet as if by one common 
 impulse, and while the hero stood, hat in 
 hand, bowing to the mighty throng, a 
 cheer xvent up from sixty thousand voices, 
 and filled the far-extended structure, like 
 the mighty roar of the ocean. For full 
 five minutes were these cheers continued 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 919 
 
 from audience and chorus and orchestra, 
 accompanied by the waving of thousands 
 of handkerchiefs in the hands of fair 
 ■women. In the midst of this scene of 
 unparalleled enthusiasm, the powerful or- 
 gan thundered forth the strains of " See 
 the Conquering Hero Comes," and then, 
 as the music progressed, at a signal from 
 Mr. Gilmore's baton, ten thousand souls, 
 in colossal chorus, gave voice to the words 
 of that welcoming anthem. The climax 
 of the Week of Festival was now fairly 
 reached. 
 
 In compliment to the president, the 
 " Star Spangled Banner " was introduced 
 between the two parts of the programme ; 
 and to this was added the "Anvil Chorus," 
 with the original one hundred anvils and 
 the one hundred red-shirted firemen to 
 beat them — and this, with the adjuncts of 
 cannon and bells, threw the audience into 
 a frenzy of rapturous delight. There was 
 more classical music on this occasion than 
 on the day previous, but the president 
 appeared to prefer the more popular patri- 
 otic airs, and the firing of guns by elec- 
 tricity appeared to interest him much. 
 This battery of Parrott guns, placed im- 
 mediately within the coliseum, were ma- 
 nipulated in front of the conductor's stand, 
 the process being that of touching, at the 
 proper moment, the keys of an electrical 
 instrument, to which the guns were con- 
 nected by wires, precisely as the keys of 
 an organ or piano are struck, when har- 
 mony in the measurement of time is de- 
 manded. 
 
 With evident satisfaction, the president 
 listened to Parepa-Rosa, as she sang 
 Handel's " Let the Bright Seraphim." 
 Without the faintest appearance of effort, 
 she sang as clearly and brilliantly as if in 
 a concert room of ordinar}'^ dimensions, the 
 clear sounds of her imperial voice sweep- 
 ing throughout the galleries and corri- 
 dors in trumpet-like tones. The audience 
 was electrified. Not only spectators, but 
 the twelve thousand choristers and one 
 thousand performers, rose and vehemently 
 cheered or waved their handkerchiefs. 
 Another splendid vocal triumph was that 
 
 achieved by Miss Adelaide Phillipps, in 
 the singing of Mozart's aria from the 
 Clemenza di Tito. The chorus, "Glory to 
 God in the highest, peace on earth, good 
 will to men," was another of the perform- 
 ances. Hardly was it finished, when 
 another — " And the glory of the Lord 
 shall be revealed " — was taken up by the 
 thousand altos, and echoed by the basses 
 and sopranos until the hall rung. Noth- 
 ing in the whole range of music could be 
 more thunderous and intense than the 
 concluding strains of this chorus. The 
 chorus from Mendelssohn, " He watching 
 over Israel, slumbers not- nor sleeps," had 
 an almost divine pathos and melody. The 
 great swaying grandeur of "America " 
 impressed the chief magistrate deeply. As 
 he left the building, salvos of artillery 
 broke upon the air, fired in unison with 
 the last chords of the strains of music and 
 the rounds of cheers. 
 
 Mr. Gilmore's programme for the third 
 day consisted of popular and patriotic 
 music, such as kept the vast crowd in a 
 continual furore of pleasurable excite- 
 ment. The first piece, the overture to 
 Auber's " Era Diavolo," was splendidly 
 played by the full orchestra of upward of 
 one thousand, and a novel and very pleas- 
 ing effect was produced by placing fifty 
 trumpets, or cornets, on the solo trumpet 
 part, the matchless Arbuckle being at the 
 head of the list. Luther's grand old 
 choral, " The Judgment Hymn," was 
 given by the full chorus, with full orches- 
 tral and organ accompaniment. The next 
 performance was the " Peace Festival 
 March," composed for the occasion by 
 Signor Janotta. It was performed by the 
 grand orchestra and military band com- 
 bined, and was a magnificent success. 
 Madame Parepa-Rosa next rendered an 
 aria from " Robert le Diable ; " and the 
 Anvil Chorus, and " Overture Triomphale" 
 on the American national air " Hail Co- 
 lumbia," composed for the festival by C. 
 C. Converse, closed the first part of the 
 programme. The second part included 
 the "Prince Frederick" march, the "Star 
 Spangled Banner," a cornet solo by Ar- 
 
920 
 
 OUK FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 buckle, "The Harp that once through 
 Tara's HalLs," the overture to Flotow's 
 " Stradella," and the "One Hundredth 
 Psalm." The whole audience joined in 
 the last verse of the psalm, and the accom- 
 paniment comprised the organ, orchestra, 
 and cannon. 
 
 In the evening, a Jubilee Ball was 
 given in the coliseum, which was an 
 immense success. A dancing hall of colos- 
 sal proportions was provided, and the 
 coliseum presented a more magnificent 
 appearance under the effect of fifty thou- 
 
 superb, — the largest ball, indeed, ever 
 known in this country. 
 
 A purely classical programme was ar- 
 ranged for the fourth day, and the highest 
 expectations of success were fully realized. 
 Complete in its artistic results, no heartier 
 enthusiasm was displaj^ed at any time dur- 
 ing the festival than that which followed 
 the various choral and orchestral selections 
 of this day. Among the performances 
 were the "Gloria" from the Twelfth Mass, 
 the "Hallelujah Chorus," "Achieved is 
 the Glorious Work," the " Prayer " from 
 
 NATIONAL PEACE JUBILEE AND MUSICAL FESTIVAL, AT BOSTON. 
 
 sand gas-lights, than in the day time. The 
 decorations were thrown out boldly, while 
 the rich toilets of tlie ladies heightened 
 tlie general enchantment of the scene. 
 The order of dances was twenty-two in 
 nunil)er, and the l>all opened promptly at 
 half-past nine, Mr. Gihnore waving the 
 baton. The orchestra was mnde up of a 
 dance and promenade band, the former 
 under the direction of Mr. Gil more, and 
 the latter under Mr. Harvey B. Dodworth, 
 of New York. Ten thousand persons were 
 present, and the affair was in all respects 
 
 Moses in Egypt, etc. The choral, "To 
 God on High," and " Sleepers wake, a 
 voice is calling," were both sung almost 
 perfectl}^, showing, magnificently, their 
 solid grandeur and beauty. The purely 
 instrumental performances, Weber's " Ju- 
 bilee " overture, and the Fifth Symphony 
 of Beethoven, were rendered in the most 
 majestic style. Miss Phillipps gave Han- 
 del's beautiful "Lascia chio pianga" in 
 the most finished and graceful manner, so 
 that the audience were excited to the very 
 highest pitch of enthusiasm, and an encore 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 921 
 
 was rapturously demanded. Mr. George 
 Peabody was introduced to the audience, 
 during the intermisson, and was loudly 
 cheered. There were also on the plat- 
 form, with him, Governors Claflin and 
 Jewell, Senators Sumner and Wilson, 
 Generals Banks and Hawley, Bishop Simp- 
 son, Dr. Lowell Mason, and other distin- 
 guished guests. 
 
 Saturday was the fifth and last day of 
 this grandest musical festival of modern 
 times. Ten thousand school children, 
 their innocent voices pouring forth a flood 
 of sweet and simple song, constituted the 
 great attraction of the day. Clad in white 
 dresses, with red and blue ribbons, the 
 appearance of the girls was charming in 
 the extreme. It was the largest chorus 
 of children ever brought together in the 
 world, and the concourse of spectators was 
 vast. Chorals, three-part songs, national 
 airs, etc., were performed with great skill 
 and power by the juvenile songsters, elicit- 
 ing unbounded applause, '' Hail Colum- 
 bia," and "Now the twilight softly steal- 
 ing," were exquisitely rendered. Brinley 
 Eichards's song, "So merrily over the 
 ocean spray," was one of the most telling 
 features of the day ; the solo was sustained 
 by five hundred pupils of the girls' high 
 and normal school, and the chorus by all 
 tlie children. "God is a Castle and 
 Defense " was given with fine effect ; and 
 Ole Bull's marvelous skill as a violinist 
 was displayed in the solo, " A Mother's 
 Prayer." The orchestra played the over- 
 ture to " AYilliam Tell," and the corona- 
 tion march from " The Prophet." Madame 
 Rosa repeated " Let the Bright Sera- 
 phim," with Mr. Arbuckle's accompani- 
 ment. A duet, " Quis est homo," sung 
 by Madame Rosa and Miss Phillipps, was 
 a performance long to be remembered. 
 During the intermission, Mr. Gilmore was 
 called from the orchestra to the editors' 
 room, where Mr. Carl Gartner, of Phila- 
 delphia, presented to him a massive gold 
 watch, of great elegance and cost, and a 
 heav^y gold chain, as a testimonial of re- 
 spect and regard from the members of the 
 orchestra. The gift was entirely unex- 
 
 pected to Mr. Gilmore, who made a fitting 
 response. The " Russian National Hymn," 
 with words of welcome to President Grant, 
 was executed in a manner that showed the 
 excellent vocal culture of the children ; 
 and the concert was brought to a close by 
 singing, in grand chorus, the One Hun- 
 dreth Psalm. 
 
 To say that the efforts and anticipations 
 of those who originated the National Peace 
 Jubilee and Musical Festival were crown- 
 ed with triumphant success, from first to 
 last, is but uttering the simple truth. It 
 was a mighty conception, and the result 
 was the greatest musical event in the his- 
 tory of modern times. The very first 
 daj-'s performances were so satisfying and 
 so enthusiastically received, as to render 
 the succeeding efforts comparatively easy 
 and sure. From the opening to the clos- 
 ing performance, the rapturous excitement 
 and delight continued without abatement. 
 At times it rose to almost wild delirium. 
 The audience and the performers seemed 
 to be actuated by one impulse of magnetic 
 fervor. Unquestionably, the great musical 
 artiste was Madame Parepa-Rosa, who 
 gained new triumphs every day. Even 
 the musicians, when she came to the last 
 notes of the " Star Spangled Banner," 
 where in capacity of voice she almost 
 rivaled Jenny Liud, laid down their in- 
 struments, and gazed in wonder. Her 
 pure, full, and resonant notes seemed to 
 triumph over walls and roof, and to fill all 
 space with tangible and enchanting mel- 
 ody. 
 
 General Grant's presence gave magnif- 
 icent eclat to the occasion. Fully half a 
 million people were in the city on that 
 day, and the rush to the coliseum was ter- 
 rific, there being fifty thousand persons 
 outside of the building, unable to obtain 
 admission. Hours before the time of the 
 concert, orders had to be issued prohibit- 
 ing the further sale of tickets ; and, almost 
 as soon as the performances commenced, 
 every door was closed, secured by iron 
 clamps, and guarded b}' the police. Those 
 who arrived late, holders of season tickets, 
 purchasers of single day tickets bought of 
 
922 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the speculators at a great price, members 
 of parties whose friends were already 
 inside, even journalists with their tickets 
 and badges, were firmly refused admission. 
 General Grant surveyed the vast and brill- 
 iant mass of humanity with evidently 
 greater interest than that with which he 
 listened to the music. Indeed, it was 
 well known that, among his many fine 
 qualities, a taste for this divine art was 
 not included. When, therefore, General 
 Underwood called upon General Sherman, 
 on the morning before the president's 
 departure for Boston, General Sherman 
 said, "Taking Grant off to that drum 
 match, are you. Underwood ? " " Yes, 
 general, and I am very sorry you cannot 
 join us." " Well," responded Sherman, 
 " it is a kind of disappointment, you know, 
 because I can appreciate those things ; 
 but the President ! bless your soul, he'll 
 be bored to death ! And, worse than all 
 that, he has no ear for music. Why, do 
 you know that Grant actually couldn't tell 
 the difference betw^een Yankee Doodle and 
 Zip Coon ? " On his way from Boston, 
 the evening after his attendance at the 
 coliseum. President Grant was asked how 
 he liked the discharge of artillery during 
 the performances that afternoon. He re- 
 plied that, in his opinion, '* the firing was 
 the best part of the music ! " 
 
 Much of the sustaining character of the 
 choruses was due to the admix-able adapt- 
 edness of the organ to the occasion. Its 
 tones were heard and felt clear over and 
 through the host of voices and instru- 
 ments ; at times it seemed to overshadow 
 all, and its thunder tones shook the whole 
 vast building. It had but a single man- 
 ual, besides the pedals and sub-bass, but 
 was capable of all desirable combinations, 
 and was an organ complete of itself. Re- 
 peated experiments were necessary to get 
 pipes of sufficient compass as well as ex- 
 cellence, and the result was the production 
 of an instrument which, for volume of 
 sound, could not be surpassed by a union 
 of the four largest organs in Boston. This 
 power was due not only to the capabilities 
 of the tubes, but to the immense pressure 
 
 of air brought to bear on them — four thou- 
 sand pounds. The chief element of 
 strength was the tuba viirabilis stop — 
 found in but two other organs in the 
 whole country. There were twelve com- 
 plete sounding stops, with one hundred 
 and sixty pipes connected. The instru- 
 ment was twenty-two feet broad and thirty 
 feet high. 
 
 Another of the wonders of this wonder- 
 ful week was the monster bass drum — the 
 heads measuring nearly eight feet each in 
 diameter, made from the hides of two 
 mammoth oxen, which had been exhibited 
 through the country during several years 
 past. On each head was the motto, " Let 
 us have Peace." The drum was about 
 three feet through from head to head, 
 and the rim was painted red, white 
 and blue. It was thoroughly perfect in 
 all its parts, and, being the largest drum 
 in the world — for no larger one could 
 be made, without using the hides of 
 elephants for the heads — created a de- 
 cided sensation. 
 
 Wniatever deficiencies or shortcomings 
 a critical eye may have detected in any of 
 the various features characterizing so stu- 
 pendous an undertaking, it was almost 
 universally pronounced a great success, 
 realizing, in the highest degree, the patri- 
 otic wish of the projector and his associ- 
 ates, that the restoration of Peace through- 
 out the land should be celebi-ated by one 
 of the most imposing national gatherings 
 ever assembled in any land ; and that the 
 return of kindly feeling and the prepetua- 
 tion of National Unit}^, should be sealed 
 by the grandest outburst of sublime and 
 inspiring harmony that had ever fallen 
 upon human ears. The management of 
 the whole affair was such as to command 
 the highest praise. 
 
 The monster entertainment known as 
 " The World's Peace Jubilee and Inter- 
 national Musical Festival," was opened in 
 Boston, June 17, 1872, and continued, 
 with var3'ing performances, which were 
 attended by multitudes of people, from all 
 parts of the countrj^, until July 4th. The 
 chorun numbered twenty thousand voices, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 '923 
 
 embracing one hundred and sixty-five 
 musical societies from the different states, 
 but principally from New England. The 
 orchestra parts numbered about two thou- 
 sand, including twenty-seven brass bands, 
 beside the foreign military bands, the 
 
 United States marine band, the Em- 
 peror William's cornet quartet, British 
 Grenadier band, Strauss's orchestra, and 
 such renowned virtuosos as Madame Ara- 
 bella Goddard; Peschka-Leutner, Ruders* 
 dorff, etc. 
 
CYII. 
 
 BURNING OF THE CITY OF CHICAGO, ILL., THE COM- 
 MERCIAL METROPOLIS OF THE NORTH- 
 WEST.— 1871. 
 
 Most Destructive Conflagration in the 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- 
 liight 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. — 
 Explosion 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, pantins. prone 
 
 On the charred fra^ment-s of her chittered throne, 
 
 lAea she who etood, but yeaterday, alone."— Bret Harts. 
 
 MB. OGDEN'S HOUSE UNTOUCHED IX THE MIDST OF THE GREAT FIRE. 
 
 iN Sunday and Monday, October eighth and ninth, 1871, there 
 occurred in Chicago, the great commercial metropolis of the 
 north-west, a fire unparalleled in the history of the world. 
 _ ^_ The fire originated in a small frame structure in the rear of 
 
 "' No. 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 
 
 <S1^ 
 
GREAT AND ME^IORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 925 
 
 work to do so, — a fatal miscalculation, as 
 the result soon proved. A strong south- 
 westerly wind was blowing at the time ; 
 no rain had fallen for several weeks previ- 
 ous ; and consequently all combustible 
 matter was prepared for ready ignition. 
 It was also a portion of the city occupied 
 by the poorer classes, principally T he- 
 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 difficulties 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 agaii 
 called, exhausted with hard labor, to this 
 fearful scene. 
 
 The flames shot with frightful rapidity 
 from house to house and from board-yard 
 to board-yard, all 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 tlie buildings 
 there. Quickly they traveled north, de- 
 vouring everything as they went, until 
 that section of th^ south division which 
 embraced nearly all the grandest struct- 
 ures and thorouglifares 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 
 Rock Island railway companies, also that 
 of the Illinois Central and tlie 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, Farwell 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 
 reare'^'. -^^as completely swept away, as the 
 fire na .ly rushed to the north. 
 
 W^.h 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 day, on ]\Ion- 
 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 yards, lum- 
 ber yards, and manufacturing establish- 
 ments of various kinds, and in great 
 numbers, yielded to the resistless enemy. 
 
926 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 By midnight, nearly the 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 ap- 
 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 rai)id 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. Tlieir 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 flight. 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 destroyer. Having reached Chicago 
 avenue, the conflagration took an eastward 
 turn, and cut off from 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 arms. 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 coffins, 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 927 
 
 up and down, turning and twisting, and 
 pouring, now and then, 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 everything 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 display, 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 ap- 
 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, 
 nearly all the public buildings were either 
 consumed or in flames, — hotels, theaters, 
 churches, court-house, railway depots, 
 banks, water-works, gas-works, and thou- 
 sands 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 enecines 
 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 currying 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- 
 ioi;s, 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 dei)ot. 
 
 In the Pouth 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 anj' considerable magnitude, all the 
 daily and weekly newspaper offices^ all the 
 
928 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 
 
 ilv'-<*;!rji^^ 
 
 
 i(|!Pn'f'',|/fi; 
 
 mmUkwmM 
 
 wMmm 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 929 
 
 principal banks, the leading hotels, many 
 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 j^ards, 
 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, destroying 
 thirteen thousand three hundred buildings, 
 the homes of nearly seventy-five thousand 
 people. Tliese structures included more 
 than six hundred stores and one hundred 
 manufacturing establishments, including 
 McCormick's reaper factory, a sugar refin- 
 ery, 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. 
 
 59 
 
 For a city thus suddenly and tragically 
 overwhelmed in 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 s^'mpathy and 
 proffers of assistance. The total value of 
 the charities thus bestowed, in provisions, 
 clothing, and monej-, 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 
 
930 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 the 
 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, lying 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 Randolph 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 
 fire approached it from the south-west 
 there was a slight lull in 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 break 
 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 attaches 
 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 ruins. 
 
CYIII. 
 
 TERRIBLE FIRE IN THE BUSINESS HEART OF 
 
 BOSTON.— 1872. 
 
 It Rages Fiercely, Night and Day, and Consumes the Widest and Nfost Mapnifieent Area of Solid 
 Granite Warehouses on tlie Continent — Some Sixty -five Acres of these Massive and Apparently 
 Indestructible Commercial PaUces Crumble Like Ciialk in the Intense Heat — The Great Financial 
 and Commercial Center of New England Destroyed — Surprising Character of tiiis Fire — Compari- 
 son with that of Chicago — No Gale : Moderate Weather — Strange liapidity of the Flames — Tiiey 
 Spread in all Directions — Triumphant Sweep from Block to Block. — Thoroughness of the Destruc- 
 tion. — Iron and Stone No Barriers. — Difficulties of the Situation. — Great Height of the Stores — 
 Narrowness of the Streets — Trinity Church in Kuins — Blowing up with Gunpowder. — Grand and 
 Terrible Scenes. — Narrow Escape of the " Old South." — State Street and Its Treasures Reacheil. — 
 Victory at Last by the Firemen. — I'eril, Bravery, Death. — A Whole City in Darkness.— Some Eight 
 Hundred Buildings Burned. — Trades that S[)ecially Suffered — Loss About §86,000,000. 
 
 "In re<1 nnd wreathinj; columns flashed 
 Tile fljtnc, lis loud tin- ixiin criifiied. 
 And here Htid thfe Ihe crai'ktint: donae 
 Wtts fired btfoie the explodiug bomb." 
 
 ^gf^ g =^ ^ A T about seven o'clock, Saturday evening, November 
 ninth, 1872, a fire commenced in Boston, Mass., 
 which proved to be, next to tliat of Chicago, the. 
 most extensive and disastrous in American liistory. 
 Indeed, it was even more surprising in its character 
 than tlie Ciiicago conflagration — in the fact that, 
 ^^^^^^ with no gale prevailing at the time, and in moderate 
 weather, there could be such rapid, complete, and 
 almost uncontrollable destruction of the most solid 
 and, apparentlj", most fire-proof buildings, streets 
 and sections, to be found in an}- part of the world. 
 That rich and magnificent portion of the city 
 bounded by Washington, Summer, Bedford, Water 
 and Oliver streets, and the water of the liarboi", was 
 nearly swept over by the devouring element, and, in 
 a brief space of time, the solid gi'anite blocks of 
 Summer, Franklin, Milk, Congress, Federal and 
 Devonshire streets, were but a mass of ruins. 
 Wasliington street was burned on one side from 
 Summer to Water street ; the fire crept nearly up to 
 TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON, L.KSTKovED. State strect, destro^'iug in part the post-office and 
 Merchants' Exchange building, as it had previously damaged, to some extent, the walls 
 
932 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 of the new post-oflfice structure ; and it 
 took in, in its wide and destructive course, 
 most especially the streets and blocks 
 occupied by the wholesale general dry 
 goods trade, the shoe and leather trade, 
 and the wool business of the city. 
 
 The fire broke out in a large four-story 
 granite store on the corner of Summer and 
 Kingston streets, the building being sur- 
 mounted with a high Mansard roof, over- 
 topping everything else in that immediate 
 vicinity. Directly as the flames began to 
 spread through the story beneath this 
 roof, and before engines or hose-carriages 
 were on the ground, great volumes sud- 
 denly burst forth from the rear of the 
 other stories of the building, and, in 
 less than twenty minutes, the whole broad 
 facade extending along Kingston street 
 was one sheet of flames, as was also at the 
 same time the Summer street front, the 
 heat being so intense as to force the fire- 
 men away. 
 
 By this time a strong breeze had come 
 up, — or rather, the vast and powerful 
 flames jnade their own current of air and 
 followed that, now to one side, now to the 
 other, following no particular path, and 
 spreading with unaccountable rapidity, 
 communicating in a short time to the 
 buildings on the opposite corner of Kings- 
 ton and Summer streets, as well as the 
 block on Summer and Otis streets. In 
 less than half an hour thereafter, the 
 flames were bursting out of all the adjoin- 
 ing roofs, and all up and down the broad- 
 sides of these immense structures, — sweep- 
 ing triumphantly from story to story, from 
 roof to roof, from blo(;k to block, from 
 corner to corner, of street after street. 
 "Whatever the flames reached they rapidly 
 consumed, melting granite walls, and 
 crisping and crackling iron doors and 
 shutters as though they were but lead. 
 The great height of these warehouses and 
 the narrowness of the streets proved seri- 
 ous difficulties. In hardly any case could 
 a stream of water be thrown upon the 
 ba(;k part of the roofs, and it was on the 
 roofs that, after the first outbreak, the fire 
 almost invariably caught ; nor was it pos- 
 
 sible to approach in those streets — or 
 lanes — ver^' near the buildings. The fire- 
 men struggled heroically, but in vain ; 
 they put uj) barricades for their protection, 
 but the barricades were soon consumed ; 
 they carried hose up to the very roofs, but 
 the height was so great that very little 
 water could be forced throucrh them. So 
 terribly intense, too, was the heat, after a 
 while, that it passed through the brick 
 walls of adjoining buildings and the fronts 
 of Avarehouses on the opposite sides of the 
 streets, igniting and consuming the latter 
 without any direct contact with flame. 
 
 This phenomenon of terrible heat was a 
 repetition of the experience of Chicago, as 
 Avas also the fate of those buildings Avhich 
 were considered, in a peculiar sense, fire- 
 proof. Iron and stone alike yielded like 
 j)ine to the destroyer. Walls whirh might 
 almost have defied heavy artillery Avere 
 quickly penetrated by the fierce element, 
 and, in a Avonderful manner, crumbled like 
 chalk, the Avhole mass falling in small 
 pieces, — the solid Avindow-caps, stately 
 croAvning stones, and broad and massiA'e 
 sections, indiscriminately ; and it Avas 
 noticeable that, in nearly every instance, 
 the Avails left standing Avere of brick. 
 Another peculiar feature Avas the almost 
 total consumption of the contents of the 
 buildings, there being com])aratively feAV 
 charred timbers piled among the ruins of 
 stone and masonry, and but few merely 
 damaged or half-burned goods. Every- 
 thing that was combustible was consumed, 
 so overmastering Avas the intensity and 
 force of the heat, — a fact Avhich none 
 knew better than the brave-hearted fire- 
 men, Avho pertinaciously battled the fiery 
 fiend all through the night of Saturda}', 
 and until long after Sunday's sun had 
 passed his meridian. Many faced the 
 heat until their exposed flesh was sadly 
 blistered. 
 
 At about three o'clock in the morning, 
 the ra])id reports of gunpowder exjjlosions 
 indicated that buildings Avere being sub- 
 jected to the fuse, as a last effort to saA-e 
 the cit}'' from the flames. One of these 
 attempts Avas made Avith a massi\'e block 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 933 
 
 on Devonshire street. The buildings were 
 thrown partially down, but not sufficiently 
 so to bar or break the onward march of 
 the sheet of blaze, which at once, like a 
 demon, leaped over the gap and seized 
 upon the adjoining stores. Buildings at 
 some distance from the flames were then 
 selected for gunpowder operations, it being 
 evident that it was useless to blow up any 
 situated in the immediate vicinity of the 
 fire. The explosions, following each other 
 rapidly, shook the city to its foundations, 
 and, being added to the hoarse roar of the 
 flames, the crackling sound of bursting 
 granite, and the air filled as far as the eye 
 could reach with fiery sparks, produced a 
 scene at once grand and terrible. 
 
 Thus, unchecked, the conflagration from 
 its first start swept with unconquerable 
 sway. Erom the fatal corner where it 
 commenced, it traveled simultaneously in 
 all directions. Southward it burned about 
 half a block. Eastward it took both sides 
 of Summer street, passed Arch, Chauncey, 
 and Hawley, and thence ran diagonally to 
 to the north-east corner of Summer and 
 Washington streets, sparing one solitary 
 building there, but taking everything at 
 the rear and side of it. Thence it ran 
 along the east side of Washington street, 
 as far north as IMilk, and within a very 
 short distance of School street and the 
 City Hall. From Kingston street, east 
 and west, the fire took both sides of Sum- 
 mer and Bedford streets, and never stop- 
 ped until it reached the water, destroying 
 the wharves and depot of the Hartford 
 and Erie railroad. Meanwhile it liad 
 careered northward, along Devonshire, Fed- 
 eral, and Congress streets, toward the 
 water ; and here were some tenement 
 houses, liquor shops, and other buildings 
 of the poorer class, and before midnight 
 the wretched occupants were turned into 
 the street. The general path of the flames 
 at this time was north-west, and from about 
 Congress street to Washington, it formed 
 an impassable barrier, moving up closer 
 and closer toward State street, the great 
 financial center of New England. Milk 
 and Pearl streets fell a rich prey to the 
 
 destroyer, and toward morning the rear of 
 the post-office was reached. The mails 
 were removed to the Custom House, and 
 thence to Faneuil Hall, where the regular 
 mail arrangements were duly established, 
 nothing having been lost. The progress 
 of the flames was stayed at the rear of the 
 Merchants' Exchange, thus saving the vast 
 treasures of State street. 
 
 Two currents of flame, one sweeping 
 northward from Franklin street, the other 
 westward along Milk street, encountered 
 one of the most renowned historical build- 
 ings in Boston, the Old South Church. For 
 a long time it was feared that this vener- 
 ated landmark was doomed to destruction, 
 and this apprehension was by no means les- 
 sened when the flames were seen dancing 
 upon the tall roof of the Daily Transcript 
 building, only the width of a narrow street 
 and lot to the west. Its tall white steeple, 
 surmounted by a shining vane and globe, 
 stood transfigured in the glowing light of 
 the conflagration from early evening until 
 the next morning, and as hour after hour 
 was solemnly tolled from its belfry, many 
 persons indulged in such remarks as, 
 " That is the last time the Old South will 
 tell the hour of da}'," or, '"I can say I 
 heard the Old South strike for the last 
 time," etc. But, though Trinity church, 
 on Summer street, with its massive walls 
 of unhewn granite, was laid in ruins, the 
 Old South, a brick building with consider- 
 able wood in combination, was spared. 
 Save a few broken windows and a little 
 blistered paint, the grand old edifice was 
 unharmed. The beautiful Transcript build- 
 ing, although it finall}' succumbed, stood 
 out long enough to give the firemen the 
 reins of the unruly element in that direc- 
 tion. 
 
 The scenes which accompanied this sud- 
 den, furious, and wide-spread disaster, can 
 only be faintly depicted. Men with 
 ledgers and account books of ever}' descrip- 
 tion, and which contained the records of 
 immense business transactions, were hur- 
 rying with them through the streets, anx- 
 ious to convey them to some place as far 
 out of the reach of the fire as possible ; 
 
934 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 TERRIBLE FIRK IX THE BUSINESS HEART OF BOSTON, 
 N(jVEMBER 9 AND 10, 1872. 
 
 job teams and every other kind of vehicle, 
 loaded down with valuables, crowded the 
 thoroughfares ; the Common was used as a 
 repository by those who could find no 
 covered shelter for their effects, and all 
 along the Tremont-street mall, from Park 
 to Boylston street, goods in bales and 
 boxes, packages, large and small, dry 
 goods, leather goods, bed-ticks, and house- 
 hold furniture, were heaped in large 
 stacks, and determined men with sticks or 
 clubs guarded them from the incursions 
 of numberless thieves, who, like birds of 
 prey, hovered about at every turn. With 
 all the precaution exercised throughout 
 the city, with reference to this danger, ar- 
 rests by the police became so numerous, 
 tnat it was found imnossible to accommo- 
 
 ate all the prisoners, and con- 
 sequently many of them had to 
 be discharged from custodj-. 
 That some lives were lost, during so 
 many hours of devastation, ruin, and ter- 
 ror, is not surprising, and it even appears 
 S remarkable that the number should fall 
 ;■ something short of a score. Among these 
 were instances peculiarly harrowing and 
 tragical. While the fire was raging in 
 the drug store of Weeks & Potter, Sun- 
 day morning, two men were struck down 
 while endeavoring to save stock, bj' the fall- 
 ing of a portion of the wall. One of them 
 was totally buried, but the other was caught 
 by the legs, — and, shouting for succor, 
 said that if his legs were extricated he 
 could get out easily. Several brave fire- 
 men responded by darling intrepidly into 
 the doomed building, the front wall of 
 which was even then tottering, and mak- 
 ing frantic efforts to release the poor suf- 
 ferer. Suddenly thej' were startled by 
 the cry that the massive front wall was 
 going over. There was a desperate rush 
 for life, and a silent horror seized the 
 s])ectators as the wall fell with a thunder- 
 ing crash and it seemed that two of the 
 brave firemen had shared the fate of those 
 whom they had so nobly tried to save. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 935 
 
 Nor was this an exceptional example, 
 merely, of tlie courageous conduct of Bos- 
 ton firemen during those days of terror. 
 
 One of the most thrilling incidents oc- 
 curred on Saturday night, in one of the 
 extensive dry goods warehouses on Win- 
 throp Square. The store had been closed, 
 and six young men, whose duty it was to 
 clear up the basement and shut off the gas, 
 were thus emploj-ed, when, unknown to 
 them, some one left the store and locked 
 the door. As the fire made headway, and 
 burst into the upper stories of the block, 
 the young men made a rusli for the door, 
 which, to their surprise and terror they 
 found secured. They sliouted for help, 
 but none came ; they pounded the door 
 and struggled to break it down, but in 
 vain ; the fire had enveloped the several 
 stories, and the clerks were iu despair, 
 when, fortunately, the door was burst 
 open by the firemen, and the clerks es- 
 caped a horrible death. 
 
 The light of the great conflagration was 
 visible scores of miles distant. Cinders, 
 pieces of newspapers, bills, dry goods, etc., 
 were found in Hingham and adjoining 
 towns, and even as far as West Scituate 
 — twenty miles from Boston, — pieces of 
 charred goods, silks and woolens, paper, 
 freight bills, etc., were found in the roads 
 and fields ; and at one time, on Saturday 
 night, looking from South Hingham to- 
 ward Boston, the air seemed filled with 
 fiery cinders. At West Scituate a govern- 
 ment bond was found, the edges of which 
 had been burned, and in the adjoining 
 town of Hingham a fragment of a ten 
 dollar bill was picked up, also leaves of 
 hymn books, bibles, etc. 
 
 The scene on Tuesday, after the fire, 
 was such as had never before been wit- 
 nessed in Boston. Many of the streets 
 were so completely filled with rubbish of 
 the fallen walls as actually to be quite 
 undistinguishable ; and, in all of them, it 
 was necessary for the explorer to pick his 
 way over smoking heaps of debris that lay 
 piled across, many feet deep. The effect 
 of the heat on the facades of the granite 
 structures was peculiar. In almost every 
 
 case, thin, platter-like disks had flaked off 
 from the blocks, leaving the latter shape- 
 less and useless, yet nearly always ap- 
 proaching a boulder-like form. On Pearl 
 street, the pavement was covered, about a 
 couple of inches deep, with powdered 
 granite, which resembled coarse granite, 
 few of the pieces being larger than a bean ; 
 and the passer who stepped off the bould- 
 ers, on which he picked his way, into this 
 pulverized mass, felt it slide and roll 
 Ujider his feet, in the same manner as 
 gravel. On this same street, also, on 
 which not a single building was spared, a 
 curious appearance was presented by the 
 remains of the front walls. Many of them 
 had fallen down to about the middle of 
 the lower story, just leaving enough of the 
 pillars beside the doors to fully display 
 the signs, showing the names and busi- 
 ness of the recent occupants. In some 
 instances the lower story of the front 
 appeared as if completely untouched, 
 though behind there was only a smoulder- 
 ing jiile of brick. On the docks, thou- 
 sands of tons of coal were burning, and 
 half-a-dozen steamers were busy, day and 
 night, playing on them, but with slow 
 effect. 
 
 Owing to the exhaustion of the gas 
 supply, caused by copious leaks in numer- 
 ous sections of the city, — the fire having 
 prevented access to the various stop-cocks 
 designed to shut off the supply from the 
 several districts in just such an emergency 
 as this, — darkness for one night, at least, 
 was relieved only by such means as could, 
 hastily be improvised. Not a few house- 
 keepers found it difficult to procure light 
 at all, as the stock of candles in nearly all 
 the retail groceries about town was early 
 taken up. The dealers in kerosene oil 
 and lamps also did a large business. 
 Without gas, the streets presented a for- 
 lorn and desolate appearance indeed, and 
 the few persons abroad moved with cau- 
 tious steps. Stores generally brilliant 
 with light in the evening were dark ; and 
 the hotels, usually bright and inviting, 
 were, almost literally, enveloped in gloom. 
 A novel spectacle, truly, was that pre- 
 
936 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 sented by the boarders, as they gathered to 
 read the evening papers ; each individual 
 possessed himself of a wax, or sperm, or tal- 
 low dip, and with the printed sheet in one 
 hand, and the flickering light in the other, 
 divided his attention between the two. 
 
 So great was the excitement produced 
 throughout all New England, as well as in 
 other parts of the country, by this tragical 
 and overwhelming calamity, that immense 
 crowds of visitors soon crowded the city, 
 causing in various ways extreme incon- 
 venience. At no time during either of 
 the " Peace Jubilees " of 1869 and 1872, 
 was the rolling stock of the different rail- 
 ways so heavily taxed. Trains of unex- 
 ampled length, jammed with men, women, 
 and children, came in from every section 
 at early day, and went out as thronged at 
 dusk and in the evening. One train of 
 thirty cars on the Boston and Albany rail- 
 road reached the city at noon from way 
 stations beyond Worcester, completely 
 filled, notwithstanding that specials and 
 regulars from a portion of the same section 
 had previously been run ; and, on the 
 other lines, the passenger freights were 
 nearly or quite as heavy. By some means, 
 not a few of these visitors got within the 
 well guarded fire limits and among the 
 ruins, and there, with small scrip, pur- 
 chased of prowling urchins who had 
 stormed the lines, various "relics" of the 
 fire, — bits of crockery, pieces of fantastic- 
 ally twisted iron, etc. 
 
 Curious but characteristic was the fact 
 that, even in the midst of the ruins, life 
 and energy appeared, with scarcely a day's 
 intervention, for, though Boston enter- 
 prise had received the heaviest of shocks, 
 it had not become paralyzed. Before the 
 huge heaps of bricks had cooled, and 
 while many fires were smouldering and 
 crackling, and the smoke was yet thick 
 and stifling, men had begun the work of 
 clearing away the debris, preparatory to 
 the work of rebuilding. So complete, 
 however, had been the work of destruc- 
 tion, and so utterly obliterated were the 
 lines of old familiar thoroughfares, that 
 the masters and workmen alike were fre- 
 
 quently bewildered, and citizens clamber- 
 ing over the piles of bricks and granite 
 blocks were completely lost in places where, 
 before the fire, they were most at home. 
 One man was seen wandering around 
 what was once the lower part of Water 
 street, with a sign announcing the changed 
 location of the Shawmut Bank, busily 
 searching for the site of its building, which 
 in fact was not far from the corner of 
 Congress, and a prominent shoe dealer 
 was heard arguing that Purchase street, 
 where he was standing, was the upper 
 portion of Pearl. 
 
 As affecting the business community, 
 this fire was one of the most disastrous 
 ever known, and, in this country, second 
 only to that of Chicago — the greatest on 
 record. While but few dwellings were 
 burned and but a comparatively small 
 number of families made houseless, the 
 finest warehouses and stores in the city, 
 and indeed in the whole country, — the 
 entire space occui^ied by the wholesale dry 
 goods dealers, wool merchants, boot and 
 shoe and hide and leather dealers, and 
 clothing houses, — met total destruction. 
 Not a wool house was left standing. The 
 whole of Pearl and High streets, which 
 were devoted exclusively to the boot, shoe, 
 and leather trade, showed simply a heap 
 of ruins. Every wholesale clothing house, 
 with a single exception, was burned, and 
 but three or four dry goods commission 
 houses were left standing, — so complete, 
 indeed, was the destruction of the latter 
 class, that the agent of the largest mill in 
 the country stated that but one out of all 
 his customers in the city had a place left 
 for his business. The fire thus burned 
 over the widest area of massive and appar- 
 ently indestructible commercial ])alaces in 
 America. The estimated total loss was 
 about eight-five million dollars. Consid- 
 ering the small extent of territorj' covered 
 — some sixty-five acres, — and the length 
 of time the fire burned, the amount of 
 property destroyed was unparalleled. The 
 number of buildings consumed, not in- 
 cluding those slightly damaged, was seven 
 hundred and seventy-six, of which only 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 937 
 
 sixty-seven were of wood. Though, most 
 fortunately, the number of deaths was 
 much less than might have been expected, 
 thousands of working girls and men were 
 thrown out of employment. 
 
 The expressions of sympathy for the 
 devastated city, with generous proffers of 
 aid, came from all quarters. Even while 
 
 the flames were still spreading, measures 
 of relief were instituted to aid the necessi- 
 tous ; and, upon the petition of the city 
 council, the governor of the commonwealth 
 called a special session of the legislature to 
 enact measures for the benefit of sufferers 
 by the calamity, and to prevent the recur- 
 ronce of a similar disaster. 
 
CIX. 
 THE NATIONAL GRANGE MOVEMENT.— 18 T2. 
 
 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 tiie Grand Basis — Mutual Protection and Advancement. — Small Encouragement at the Begin- 
 nine. — Immense Growth in Five Years. — Activity in the West and South — Social and Moral Aspects. 
 — Plan of Business Action. — Partism 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 Prodi>cts. — Alleged Errors in Trade Cus- 
 toms. — Individual vs. Associated EflTorts — ' Middlemen' a Disadvantage. — Substitute for Their Inter- 
 vention — The Case Illustrated. — Difficulties and Remedies. 
 
 " The ultimate ohject of this organization Ib for mutual instruction nntl protection, to lifftiten labor bv diffuslns a knowledce nf its aims 
 and p'irpiiss. .xpiiul the mind by tracing the beautiful laws the g e it Creator has established in the univeist, and to cularjje our views of 
 Creative wisdom and power."— CoNaiii UTio.N OK iHE Natiohal Gka.noe. 
 
 NE of the most active and vigorous co-operative bodies which have 
 
 
 '^'^^}^h''Mt^'-M ^^'*^ii organized, on a popular basis, witliin the last few years of the 
 
 national century, and which now has its associate 
 representation in almost all parts of the countr}', 
 is what is known as the National Grangers — and, 
 similarly. Patrons of Husbandry, and Sovereigns 
 of Industrj', — devoted, as these names imj)ly, to 
 the interests of agricultural labor, and kindred in- 
 dustries. Their greatest strength is found in the 
 western portion of the republic, though by 
 i:"''JIl ,; .>»Y no means confined to that section, affiliated 
 I^i 'z-^. ^ branches of the order being found, in a more 
 ;" or less flourishing condition, in the southern, 
 i^Vj 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. 18G7, 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 iu 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 939 
 
 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. R. 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, Mr. 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, III. In Minnesota, six granges 
 were organized. Thus, the whole number 
 during the first year was but ten : in 1SG9, 
 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 principles put forth, 
 authoritatively, 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 
 motti), '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 sj'S- 
 tem, the fashion system, and every other 
 system tending to prodigality and bank- 
 ruptcy; to meet together, talk together, 
 work together, bu}'^ 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 pergonal, 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 any intention 
 to wage aggressive warfare against other 
 interestrJ, the grangers assert that all their 
 
940 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 acts and efforts, so far as business is con- 
 cerned are not only for tlie benedt 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 transporta- 
 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 
 
 SYMBOLS OF THE CO-OPERATIVE LAUOK ORQAXIZATIONS. 
 
 of the primary bases of action upon which 
 the order rests, namely, that individual 
 happiness depends upon general prosperity. 
 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 greatly increasing the burdens 
 of the people, and bearing no proper pro- 
 portion 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 941 
 
 declared, however, as the oft-repeated truth 
 taught in the organic 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, 
 equity 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 any 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 
 
942 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 iiiii):^ 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 943 
 
 population of twenty-six states, and with 
 two-thirds of the farmers in ten otliers. 
 In Missouri alone there are said to be 
 2,150 granges ; they are making their 
 wa}' in Canada. Pennsylvania 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 further 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 3'ear, — 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 tlieir 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 exchanges 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 i«hipment 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 individuall}', 
 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, 60 increasingly prosperous, known as 
 the Sovereigns of Industry. As defined 
 
944 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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, for 
 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 and ani- 
 mosities of labor and capital and trade in 
 an inclusive harmonizing of them all. In 
 the further declaration of the purposes of 
 
 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 obtaiuer 
 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 monej', 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 the dis- 
 tributors of goods who create no value but 
 get rich out of the earnings of productive 
 labor. 
 
ex. 
 
 TRIAL OF BEV. H. W. BEECHER, FOR ADULTERY WITH 
 
 MRS. THEODORE TILTON, AS CHARGED BY 
 
 HER HUSBAND.— 1875. 
 
 The Name of the Accused, as Preacher, Author, and Reformer, Co-extensive with Christianity and 
 Civilization. — Story of the Plaintiff, of the Wife, and of the Defendant. — The Longest and Most 
 Bitter Contest in American Judicial Annals. — A Widespread Social Tragedy. — Suffocating Crowds 
 Fill the Hall. — Array of Eminent Counsel. — Mrs. Tilton and Mrs. Beecher Attend Daily. — Flowers 
 and Applause — Activity of the Press and Telegraph — Foundation of the Terrible Charges — Dam- 
 ages Laid at One Hundred Thousand Dollars. — Mrs. Tilton's Confessions to Her Husband. — A 
 Retraction Obtained by Mr. Beecher. — Mr. Moulton, for Mr. Tilton, Demands its Return. — Explana- 
 tions by Mr. Beecher. — Denial of any Improprieties, — Mr. Tilton's Appearance on the Stand. — Nature 
 of the Defense. — Mr. Beecher in His Own Behalf. — Mrs. Tilton's Appeal to the Court. — One Hundred 
 and Eleven Witnesses Called. — Great Conflict of Testimony. — Opinion and Rulings of the Judge. — 
 The Jury Seven Days Out. — Their Final Disagreement. 
 
 " There has been no sensation like it in this generation."— BosTOir Dailt Adtebtiseb. 
 
 ^3>;EY0]SrD any and all other events, of its kind, duis 
 ^^i ing the centurj', the trial of Kev. Henry Ward 
 Beecher, for nearly thirty years pastor of the 
 Plymouth church, Brooklyn, N. Y., for adultery 
 with Mrs. Theodore Tilton, as charged hy her hus- 
 band, excited the public mind, from one end of the 
 land to the other, and this continued, with una- 
 bated intensity, until the final issue of the case, 
 nearly six months after. 
 
 Eager crowds daily attended the suffocating hall 
 of justice, during all this period — the longest and 
 most bitter judicial contest in the annals of Amer- 
 ican jurisprudence, — the most powerful legal talent 
 of the bar of New York and elsewhere composing 
 the counsel of the respective parties to the suit, 
 such advocates as Morris, Beach, Fullerton, Pryor, 
 and others, for the plaintiff, being matched against 
 Evarts, Porter, Tracy, Shearman, Abbott, and 
 others, for the defendant. And over this distin- 
 guished court — its extraordinary scenes and actors, 
 and momentous interests, — it is worthy of record, 
 in this place, that Judge Neilson presided with a 
 wisdom, dignity, and impartiality, that won for him universal and enduring eulogy. 
 60 
 
 SCENE DURING THE TRIAL OF H. W. BEECHER. 
 
946 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Mrs. Tilton, seated witli Mr. Beeclier's 
 friends, was in almost daily attendance ; 
 distinguished j)ublic men, from all parts 
 of the country, were visitors to the court ; 
 flowers and applause were liberally be- 
 stowed upon the plaintiff and defendant, 
 by their respective supporters; the tele- 
 graph flashed hourly reports of the pro- 
 ceedings to all parts of the land ; and the 
 great metropolitan journals teemed with 
 extra issues. 
 
 Of the two great characters in this legal 
 and social tragedy, Henry Ward Beecher 
 and Theodore Tilton, it is safe to say that 
 each had attained a shining eminence, 
 almost unequaled, in their respective 
 spheres. As a preacher, author, and re- 
 former, the name of Mr. Beecher was 
 co-extensive with the area of Christendom 
 and civilization. He was, in the language 
 of the ablest New England journal that 
 espoused the cause of his opponent, the 
 most splendid, the most inspiring, and the 
 most beloved figure before the American 
 people, — he had not only toiled and fought, 
 with tremendous effect, in the great strug- 
 gle to free at once the slave and the nation, 
 but he was swift to preach a higher and 
 more generous and vital Christianity than 
 the American pulpit had ever yet uttered, 
 — and, after the successive deaths of his 
 great contemporaries, he remained the 
 great man of the American people. For 
 nearly thirty years he had ministered to 
 the same church, and that the largest 
 Protestant church on the continent. Of 
 this church, Mrs. Tilton had been a devout 
 member from her girlhood, as also had 
 Mr. Tilton for a period of years prior to 
 1870, the closest personal intimacy exist- 
 ing between the three. Of Mr. Tilton, and 
 his career, the same journal, already cited, 
 speaks as a man who, assuming the editorial 
 chair of the " Independent," became the idol 
 and the weekly teacher of a vast constitu- 
 ency of readers, — a man of impulses and 
 affections no less broad and ardent than Mr. 
 Beecher's, adding to these, in his writings, a 
 style trenchant and vigorous. As a scholar, 
 orator, and journalist, Mr. Tilton occupied 
 a place in the very foremost rank. 
 
 On the eleventh daj'' of January, 1875, 
 and thereafter for nearly six consecutive 
 months, the Brooklyn City Court assem- 
 bled, day after day, to try this memorable 
 action at law by Mr. Tilton against Mr. 
 Beecher, the damages being laid at one 
 hundred thousand dollars. 
 
 The terrible charges upon which Mr. 
 Tilton founded his suit were, briefly, as 
 follows : That for a series of years Mr. 
 Beecher continued a friendship with Mrs. 
 Tilton, until the year 1870, during which 
 period, by many tokens and attentions, he 
 won her love, so that, after long moral 
 resistance by her, and after repeated as- 
 saults by him upon her mind, with over- 
 mastering arguments, he accomplished the 
 possession of her person, maintaining with 
 her thereafter, namely, from the autumn 
 of 1868 to the spring of 1870, the relation 
 of criminal intercourse. 
 
 The ground for these charges, as alleged 
 by Mr. Tilton, consisted, mainly, of a 
 circumstantial confession made to him by 
 Mrs. Tilton, in July, 1870, of this criminal 
 relation, accompanied by citations from 
 Mr. Beecher's arguments and reasonings 
 with her to overcome her scruples against 
 yielding to his desires. 
 
 On the evening of December 30, 1870, 
 Mr. Tilton conveyed to Mr. Beecher, 
 through the hand of an old friend, Mr. 
 Francis D. Moulton, a request for an inter- 
 view at the house of the latter. On this 
 occasion, Mr. Tilton drew Mr. Beecher's 
 attention to a written paper containing, he 
 stated, the substance of the confession 
 hitherto made by Mrs. Tilton. This paper 
 furnished to Mr. Beecher the first knowl- 
 edge he had as yet received of any such 
 divulgences by Mrs. Tilton, and, at the 
 close of the interview, being informed by 
 Mr. Tilton that he could verify the state- 
 ments, if he wished, by going to see Mrs. 
 Tilton herself, he repaired, that same night, 
 to her residence, where she lay on her 
 sick bed. Mr. Beecher states, of this 
 visit, that he informed her he had just 
 come from the presence of her husband, 
 who had been making serious charges 
 against him. " Elizabeth, he tells me you 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 947 
 
 confessed to liim that I had made improper 
 advances ; is that so ? " She bowed her 
 head. He then, expostulating with her, 
 said, " You know this isn't true ; wherein 
 have I acted wrongly toward you ; how 
 could you have done such a thing ? " 
 She began, speaking slowly, to answer 
 that she could not help it ; she was urged 
 to do so by her husband, the latter per- 
 suading her that if she confessed to an 
 undue affection for him, Beecher, it would 
 be easier for Tilton to confess his own 
 alien loves, and that this would be the 
 beginning of a new and better life. Mr. 
 Beecher urged that, as she had written a 
 
 charge against him, she should write a 
 retraction ; she replied, that it might injure 
 her husband ; he said he should not use it 
 in that way, but wanted it to defend him- 
 self, if the matter ever came before the 
 church ; then, by her directions, he got pen 
 and paper, and she wrote : " Wearied with 
 importunity and weakened by sickness, I 
 gave a letter inculpating my friend, Henry 
 Ward Beecher, under assurances that it 
 would remove all difficulties between me 
 and my husband. That letter I now 
 revoke. I was persuaded to it, almost 
 forced, when I was in a weakened state of 
 mind. I regret it, and recall all its state- 
 ments, I desire to say, explicitly, Mr. 
 Beecher has never offered any improper 
 solicitation, but has always treated me in 
 
 a manner becoming a Christian and a 
 gentleman." With this retraction, Mr. 
 Beecher left for his home. 
 
 The next important step was that taken 
 by Mr. Tilton, who, learning from his 
 wife, on returning home that evening, 
 that such a paper had been written by 
 her at Mr. Beecher's instance, the next 
 day deputed Mr. Moulton to obtain from 
 Mr. Beecher the retraction in question, 
 charging that it had been unfairly pro- 
 cured, and, after an earnest discussion, 
 Mr. Beecher finally yielded to the demand 
 made upon him, though with extreme 
 reluctance. 
 
 In a subsequent interview with Mr. 
 Moulton — who now, as well as for some 
 years after, acted as the medium of com- 
 munication between Messrs. Tilton and 
 Beecher, — the latter is reported, by Mr. 
 Moulton, to have expressed great contri- 
 tion and remorse for his previous crimin- 
 ality with Mrs. Tilton, and, on being told, 
 by Mr. Moulton, that such expressions of 
 his feelings, if conveyed in a written form 
 to Mr. Tilton, would be very acceptable, 
 dictated to Mr. Moulton the following : 
 " I ask, through you, Theodore Tilton's 
 forgiveness, and I humble myself before 
 him, as I do before my God. He would 
 have been a better man in my circum- 
 stances than I have been. I can ask noth- 
 ing, except that he will remember all the 
 other hearts that would ache. I will not 
 plead for myself. I even wish I were dead ; 
 but others must live and suffer. I will 
 die before any one but myself shall be 
 implicated. All my thoughts are running 
 toward my friends, toward the poor child 
 lying there and praying with folded hands. 
 She is guiltless — sinned against; bearing 
 the transgression of another. Her for- 
 giveness I have. I humbly pray to God 
 that he may put it into the heart of her 
 husband to forgive me." This document, 
 with the exception of the words, separate 
 by themselves, "1 have trusted this to 
 Moulton in confidence," was in the hand- 
 writing of Mr. Moulton, who asserted that 
 it was positively the language used by 
 Mr. Beecher ; — the latter, however, em- 
 
948 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 phaticallj denying, in court, the authen- 
 ticity of the document, or that it correctly 
 rendered the words he used in acknowl- 
 edging his grief at having brought, by his 
 advice, sorrow and division into the Tilton 
 family, or that it related in any sense to 
 adultery. 
 
 In regard to this document, which was, 
 perhaps, the pivot upon which the plain- 
 tiff's case mainly hung, and on the occa- 
 sion of the writing of which Mr. Moulton 
 asserted, in his testimony, that adultery 
 ■was the crime distinctly spoken of by 
 himself and Mr. Beecher, the latter de- 
 clared, when testifying, that its origin lay 
 
 ^^^ 
 
 Z> 
 
 solely in the advice he had some time pre- 
 viously given, that a separation ought to 
 take place between Mr. and Mrs. Tilton, 
 because of the unhappy life led by the 
 latter, and his subsequent sorrow at the 
 deplorable results thus wrought. In addi- 
 tion to this, Mr. Beecher imputed to him- 
 self the dismissal of Mr. Tilton from the 
 high and lucrative editorial positions which 
 he held in New York and Brooklyn, thus 
 bringing immeasurable trouble and mis- 
 fortune upon Mr. Tilton and his family. 
 
 Of all the one hundred and eleven wit- 
 nesses in this wonderful case, there were 
 three who testified to personal declarations 
 on the part of Mr. Beecher, in which he 
 acknowledged the fact of adultery, namely, 
 Mr. Tilton, Mr. Moulton, and Mrs. Moul- 
 
 ton ; and, in corroboration of their evi- 
 dence on this point, the two first named 
 exhibited a large number of letters of 
 friendship and affection which had passed 
 between Mrs. Tilton and the defendant; 
 and also between the latter and Mr. Moul- 
 ton, expressing admiration for Mr. Moul- 
 ton as the best friend God had ever raised 
 up for him in this world, — the chief stress 
 laid by Mr. Beecher in these letters of 
 anguish, being the great value of Mr. 
 Moulton's services in keeping the matter 
 from publicity, and in controlling the re- 
 sentments of Mr. Tilton. This corre- 
 spondence with Mrs. Tilton, however, Mr. 
 Beecher explained as being in no wise 
 secret, but growing out of the intimate 
 friendly and pastoral relations he had 
 sustained toward her from her very child- 
 hood, and for years subsequently toward 
 both her and her husband ; and, of his 
 correspondence and intercourse with Mr. 
 Moulton, he acknowledged his great ob- 
 ject to be to prevent the damaging effect 
 that would result to so many hearts, and 
 to the cause of religion, by a disclosure, 
 to the world, of accusations against his 
 moral purity or integrity. 
 
 The most startling testimony, so con- 
 sidered, against Mr. Beecher, was that 
 preferred by Mrs. Francis D. Moulton, 
 who narrated a conversation stated by 
 her to have taken place between Mr. 
 Beecher and herself, at her residence, June 
 2, 1873. On this occasion, after deploring, 
 with agony and tears, his adultery with 
 Mrs. Tilton, he spoke of its being, probably, 
 the last conversation he would ever have 
 with her — Mrs. Moulton, — that it was use- 
 less any longer to try to live the matter 
 down, — expressed great sorrow for the mis- 
 ery he had brought upon himself and Mrs. 
 Tilton, and great remorse and sorrow that 
 she should ever have confessed to her hus- 
 band, for it would bring only ruin in the 
 end to all ; said that he was resolved to 
 take his life — that he had a powder on his 
 library table, which he had prepared to 
 take, and should sink quietly off, as if 
 going to sleep, without a struggle ; that 
 Mrs. Tilton was not a bad woman at heart, 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 949 
 
 but had sinned through lior affections. 
 Mrs. Moultou testilied that the interview 
 lasted three or four hours, all in this 
 strain, Mr. Beecher being very much ex- 
 cited, the tears streaming down his face, 
 and saying that he liad suffered the tor- 
 tures of the damned, etc., etc. 
 
 To this narrative by Mrs. Moulton, Mr. 
 Beecher gave explicit denial on the stand, 
 testifying that no such language was used 
 by him ; that at the time of the alleged 
 occurrence of the interview he was at 
 other, specified, places ; and that at no 
 time had he ever contemplated suicide. 
 
 The story told by Mr. Tilton, — who, by 
 the laws of New York could testify, under 
 certain restrictions, in this case, though 
 
 his wife was debarred, — occupied nearly 
 two weeks, and was a most circumstantial 
 recital of the happiness which character- 
 ized his home and his marriage relations, 
 before, as he alleged, the alienation of his 
 wife's affections, and her seduction, by 
 Mr. Beecher. His manner was self-pos- 
 sessed, and his enunciation deliberate, 
 with a careful selection of words, and he 
 seemed to need little questioning, — a cue 
 being all that was required to bring from 
 him a whole chapter of personal and fam- 
 ily history connected, immediately or indi- 
 rectly, with the great and mysterious scan- 
 dal ; nor did he seem to any disadvantage 
 under the rigid and acute cross-examination 
 to which he was, day after day, subjected, 
 — a remark which ma}', perhaps, with about 
 equal appropriateness, be applied to all the 
 chief witnesses, on either side. 
 
 In the progress of the trial, the remark- 
 
 able scene occurred of Mrs. Tilton rising 
 in court, and, addressing the judge, saying, 
 " I have a communication which I beg 
 your Honor will read aloud, or have read 
 aloud, before the opening of this session." 
 After a slight pause, Judge Neilson, to 
 whom the document had been passed by 
 Mr. Evarts, replied that the matter would 
 be considered deliberatel3\ In this docu- 
 ment, which was subsequently returned to 
 her as not coming within the official recog- 
 nition of the court, Mrs. Tilton declared, 
 among other things: "I have been so 
 sensible, since your last session, of the 
 power of my enemies, that my soul cries 
 out before you and the gentlemen of the 
 jury, that they beware how, by a divided 
 verdict, they consign to my children a 
 false and irrevocable stain upon their 
 mother. For five years past, I have been 
 the victim of circumstances most cruel and 
 unfortunate, struggling from time to time 
 only for a place to live honorably and 
 truthfully. Released for some months 
 from the will by whose power uncon- 
 sciously I criminated myself again and 
 again, I declare solemnly before you, with- 
 out fear of man and by faith in God, that 
 I am innocent of the crimes charged 
 against me." Before the close of the 
 trial, the plaintiff's counsel announced 
 their willingness, notwithstanding the law, 
 that Mrs. Tilton be called to the stand by 
 the defendant's counsel, if the latter wish- 
 ed ; but the offer was declined, on pro- 
 fessedly legal grounds, though strong ob- 
 jections had been urged, by the same coun- 
 sel, against Mr. Tilton's testifying, when, 
 by the law, Mrs. Tilton's lips must be 
 sealed. The judge, however, expressed his 
 special gratification at her not being called. 
 It is not overstating the truth of the 
 case, that Mr. Beecher's appearance on the 
 stand was the culminating point of inter- 
 est in this intensely exciting social and 
 legal drama. On Mr. Evarts saying, " Mr. 
 Beecher, will you be sworn ? " he, with a 
 look and smile at his wife, who, through 
 the daily sessions of the court, from mid- 
 winter to midsummer, was constantly 
 seated at his side, passed to the witness 
 
950 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 chair, wearing the same fixed, placid look, 
 which he had worn throughout the trial, 
 and he sat there with a- manner entirely 
 unconstrained, as if in his own pulpit or 
 lecture-room. Like most of the witnesses, 
 on either side, his examination covered a 
 wide range, and, to all the charges or tes- 
 timon}' involving criminality on his j^art, 
 he gave most emj)hatic and sweeping 
 denials, as the following will show : — 
 
 Question hy Mr. Evarts. — Was there 
 ever any undue familiarity between Mrs. 
 Tilton and yourself ? 
 
 Answer. — Never, sir. 
 
 Question. — Did you ever solicit or re- 
 ceive any undue favor from her as a woman ? 
 
 Answer. — Never, sir, and it would be 
 impossible to her. 
 
 Question. — Did j^ou ever, in the course 
 of your acquaintance, have carnal inter- 
 course, or sexual connection, with Mrs. 
 Tilton ? 
 
 Answer. — No, sir ; never, sir. 
 
 All these replies were made with intense 
 energy ; and, meeting, as they did, cate- 
 gorically, the direct issue presented in the 
 action before the court, constituted the 
 defendant's answer, under oath, to the 
 plaintiff's complaint and allegations. Sim- 
 ilar were the replies made by the great 
 defendant, in the closing words of his pro- 
 longed examination by Mr. Evarts, as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 Question. — I ask you, whether Mr, Til- 
 ton ever used to you, or in your presence, 
 any language of accusation, of imputation, 
 or of intimation, that there had ever been 
 criminal intercourse between yourself and 
 Mrs. Tilton ? 
 
 Answer. — He never did. 
 
 Question, — Did Mr. Moulton, in all his 
 intercourse with you, in any of his conver- 
 sations with you, on the subject of your 
 relations with Mrs. Tilton, or any of the 
 subjects connected therewith, that formed 
 the topics of conversation between you at 
 any time, make any accusation, or imputa- 
 tion, or intimation, of sexual intercourse 
 between yourself and Mrs, Tilton ? 
 
 Answer. — He never did, sir. 
 
 A prominent feature in the line of de- 
 
 fense adopted by Mr. Beecher's counsel, 
 though scarcely, or only guardedly, admit- 
 ted by Mr. Beecher in his evidence, was 
 that of conspiracy against Mr, Beecher, 
 with a view to blackmail ; it appearing 
 that, during the last few years, some seven 
 thousand dollars had been paid out by Mr. 
 Beecher, in connection with the matter, 
 and the counsel further alleging that, not 
 until after Mr. Tilton's dismissal from his 
 editorial positions, did he bring any charge 
 against Mr, Beecher, — beginning, then, 
 first with the accusation of improper pro- 
 posals, and subsequently asserting adul- 
 tery. The amount of testimony on these 
 points, on either side, was immense, rami- 
 fying in multifarious and irrelevant direc- 
 tions, and so conflicting in every particular 
 that was essential, that even professional 
 experts in such reading were lost in its 
 mazes. The judge, however, in his charge, 
 expressed the opinion that Mr. Beecher's 
 advances of money — which, through Mr, 
 Moulton, went to the benefit of Mr. Tilton 
 and family, — appeared to be mere acts of 
 generosity, and that the money was not 
 extorted by Mr, Moulton, Among the 
 other opinions or rulings of the judge, of 
 special interest, were the following : that, 
 upon the evidence adduced by the plain- 
 tiff, the defendant was the only witness 
 who had any actual knowledge of what the 
 relations between himself and Mrs. Tilton 
 were, and was the only person whom the 
 law permitted to sj^eak as a witness to 
 those relations ; and that the intimacy and 
 intercourse which, by the accepted rules 
 of social order, are allowed between a 
 married woman and her legal adviser, 
 physician, or pastor, are greater than 
 those which are considered proper where 
 no such special relation exists. 
 
 On the jury retiring, they took with 
 them the volumes containing the evidence 
 and the judge's charge and rulings, com- 
 prising over five thousand closely jDrinted 
 double-column jmges — showing the vast- 
 ness of the case. They were out the 
 unprecedented period of seven days, but 
 failed to agree, finally standing nine for 
 the defendant and three for the plaintiff. 
 
CXI. 
 
 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. — Anticipationa 
 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. — The 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 
 Village, 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 Illustrations. — An Unprecedented Scene : President and Emperor 
 Receiving the Salutations of the American People. — Oratory, Music, Poetry, Bells, Illuminations, 
 Cannon, Regattas, 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. 
 
 " The completion of the first century of our national existence should be commemorated by an Exhibition of the natural resources of the 
 country an4 'Jieir derelopment, and of its progress in those arts which benefit mankind." — Pbesident Gbant's Message to Cokocess. 
 
 NE hundred years after the Dec- 
 laration of Independence at Phil-. 
 ^^^ adelphia, which great event gave 
 ^ birth and national sovereignty' to 
 a new Republic, the centennial 
 commemoration of that august act 
 filled the land with such festival 
 and pageant of jo}'-, 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 
 nearly forty great commonwealths and forty million inhabitants, and, in respect to 
 whatever relates to man's material and moral advancement, found themselves unexcelled 
 by any empire or kingdom on the face of the wide earth. 
 
 HOUSE IN WHICH THOMAS JEFFERSOX WROTE THE DECLARATION 
 OF INDEPENDENCE. 
 
952 
 
 OUR FIEST CENTUHY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 Anticipations of the coming anniversary 
 had long been i:)rominent 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, in 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 year's ceremonials, there 
 »vas 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 
 Di 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- 
 Bpheres, the occasion was appropriately 
 introduced by the vast orchestra perform- 
 ing the national airs of all nations, as fol- 
 
 lows : The Washington March ; Argen- 
 tine Republic, Marche de la Republica; 
 Austria, Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser; 
 Belgium, La Brabansonne ; Brazil, Hymno 
 Brasileira Nacional; Denmark, Volkslied 
 — den tapj)re Landsoldat; France, La 
 Marseillaise; Germany, Was ist des 
 Deutschen Vaterland ; Great Britain, God 
 Save the Queen; Italy, 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. 
 
 Following 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 States 
 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 Hawlej'', 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 953 
 
 n 
 
 < 
 
 M 
 
 w 
 
 S5 
 o 
 
 H 
 
 H 
 
 El* 
 O 
 
 & 
 
 a 
 
954 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 the history of our century, of a reigning 
 crowned head visiting-the United States, 
 with the exception of Kahakaua, king of 
 the Sandwich IsLands, whose tour occur- 
 red in 1874-5. 
 
 And here may be cited one of the most 
 notable scenes which transpired on this 
 wonderful occasion, namely, the starting 
 of the stupendous engine constructed by 
 Mr. 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 ENGINE. 
 
 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 
 factory 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, inquiringly, "This way?" "Yes." 
 In another 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 president; 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, performing 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 forty-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 
 
GKEAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 955 
 
 the main building, having an area of about 
 twenty-one and a-half acres ; that for ma- 
 chiner}', fourteen aiu-es; for agriculture, ton 
 acres; for horticulture, one and a-half; 
 for art, one and a-half. In addition to 
 tliese, 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 variety of s^Decial 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; i^arade 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. 
 
 Memornil 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 
 disi:)layed 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 comjolementary 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 the nations in this vast structure was 
 an interesting 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 transej)t ; 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 ; opj)osite to Great Britain, aj)- 
 peared the German Empire, alongside 
 Austria, and Hungary in the rear; ap- 
 l^roaching 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 princi^^al nation- 
 alities. 
 
 Handsome, and grand in its amplitude, 
 and tasty in its harmonies of form and 
 color, the machinery building fairly be- 
 
956 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 957 
 
 "wildered both the eye and mind of the 
 -observer, by its ever-varying contents, 
 while the prevalent soniberness 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- 
 iitory 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. 
 
 io all lovers of nature ; in the flower beds 
 surrounding this structure, more than 
 thirty thousand hyacinth and tulip bulbs 
 were planted, to display, 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, 
 jjatent office, signal service, ordnance bu- 
 
958 
 
 OUE FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 b}"- 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 tlie 
 grounds, a pure white flag floating from 
 the top of its pavilion, bearing the words 
 of Jer. xxii, 29 : "0 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 steel 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' 
 guns and howitzers, Catling 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 tree 
 loaded with the somber, hanging moss, 
 that renders some of her landscapes so 
 gloomy, but which is now being used as a 
 substitute for hair in mattresses and up- 
 holstery. California sent gold quartz of 
 surpassing richness, and wonderful grain 
 and cacti as well. Of the Indian races, 
 the leading features were a^itly 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, 
 General 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 boys 
 included, among other things, a heavy ten- 
 wheel draft locomotive, cylinder eighteen 
 by twenty-two inches, and all of consum- 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 959 
 
 mate finish. The kindergarten plan of 
 teaching was most fully illustrated in all 
 its appliances and 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, 
 
 UNION SQUARE, NEW YORK, JULY 4, 187C. 
 
 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, vases, 
 and other specimens of ceramic art ; Japan, 
 her multitudinous porcelains and bronzes ; 
 Cuba, her palms, agaves, cact, and other 
 tropical plants ; Italj^, 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 
 and handicraft, not least among which 
 being its Gobelin tapestries and Sevres 
 fabrics ; Great Britain, her infinitude of 
 woolen, cotton and silk goods, carpetings, 
 
960 
 
 OUK FIRST CENTUEY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 display 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 
 Anniversary Day in especial, — July 
 Fourth, — which numbered the first hun- 
 dred years of the greatest republic upon 
 which the sun ever shone. To say that 
 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 faintlj' expressing the 
 fact. It was a festival of oratorv, 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, any 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 w'hich 
 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 and 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 ways 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 w^as offered by Bishop Stevens ; 
 Dr. 0. 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 President 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 j^erformed 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 961 
 
 61 
 
962 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 metrop- 
 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 male 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 eyes 
 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, and 
 
 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- 
 inet-maker 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 imaginar}^ 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 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 963 
 
 the population, several of whom lie on the 
 ground, weltering in their blood. Over 
 the picture was a banner inscribed with 
 the words, " Massacre of the People by 
 the British Troops,'' and, on a wreath 
 above, the date — 177G. 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 these 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 
 the 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 HalK 
 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 which 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 locality and time, for Eastport, Me. 
 
 In New York, as in Philadelphia, the 
 jubilistic demonstrations commenced on a 
 i) 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 when the advanced guard 
 of the monster procession marched into 
 the square by way of the plaza. It was 
 almnst an hour after the start of the pro- 
 cession before the head entered the grounds 
 and took position. The members of the 
 Sanirerfer Bund were in full force of about 
 
964 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 one thousand, on the platform, while the 
 many hands that took part in the pro- 
 cession assembled between the grand stand 
 and the singers' stand. As soon as the 
 immense concourse of peo2:>le became set- 
 tled, the singing societies performed, with 
 grand effect, various martial and patriotic 
 airs. Here, as in other j)arts of the city, 
 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 by 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 bay, torch- 
 light display, orations, music, etc. In 
 Washington, on account of the official 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 
 
 STATE AVENUE. 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 065 
 
 into requisition, various societies paraded 
 the streets, and many houses were linely 
 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 Ba^'ard 
 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. 
 
966 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 177G-1S7G. 
 
 THE TUNISIAN TENT. 
 
 The Americans residing in Frankfort, 
 Heidelberg, Otfenbach, Wiesbaden, and 
 other 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 magnificently celebrated, 
 Minister 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 
 prayers 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 Almighty God for the protection 
 and the bounties which he has vouchsafed 
 to our beloved country. 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 
 continuance 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 fi-om the Emperor AVil- 
 liam, of Germany, to the President, con- 
 veying his imi)erial congratulations to the 
 latter and to the American people. This 
 remarkable letter was officially presented 
 
GREAT AND MEMORABLE EVENTS. 
 
 967 
 
 to President Grant, on the morning of 
 July 4tli, by tlie Gorman ambassador in 
 person, and was as follows : — 
 
 William, by the grace of God, Emperor 
 of Germany, 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 upon 
 which the great republic over which you 
 preside entered the rank of independent 
 nations. The purposes of its founders 
 have, by 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 by 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 of the two countries, may continue to 
 increase, is my sincere desire and confi- 
 dent hope. 
 
 Accept the renewed assurance of my 
 unqualified esteem. William. 
 
 Countersigned, Von Bismakck. 
 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 be 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 peo2:)le's patriotic sensibil- 
 ities to the most fervid pitch, was the 
 scene already briefly 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 transport of delight ; chil- 
 dren innumerable were held up 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 heavens, the sacred document was 
 read. The chord of unity 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 by-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 mayor 
 of the former capital of the Southern Con- 
 federacy, as follows : " The peoj^le of 
 Montgomery, Alabama, the birthplace of 
 the Confederate government, through its 
 City Council, extend a cordial and fraternal 
 greeting to all the people of the United 
 
968 
 
 OUR FIRST CENTURY.— 1776-1876. 
 
 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 Republic 
 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 of 
 

 
 
INDEX. 
 
 A toast preceding a tragedy, 442. 
 
 Abortive attempts made by Walker to conquer Nica- 
 ragua, 751. 
 
 Abortive attempts to lay the ocean cable, 900. 
 
 Absence of any gale during the awful fire in Boston, 931. 
 
 Access to Secretary Seward's sick chamber gained by 
 the assassin Payne, 897. 
 
 Acceptance by Lafayette of President Monroe's invita- 
 tion, 27.5. 
 
 — of the invitation to America by Kossuth, 586. 
 Acclamations, tempest of, on Jenny Lind's appearance 
 
 before an audience, .546. 
 
 Accomplices of Booth in his crime of assassination, 897. 
 
 Accosting Mr. Sumner, previous to the assault, 617. 
 
 Accounting for the want of liquid in one of the petro- 
 leum oil wells, 705. 
 
 "Achilles of Chess," Paul Morphy j)ronounced to be 
 the, 6G9. 
 
 Acknowledgment of his biblical errors by Rev. Wm. 
 Miller, 437. 
 
 the independence of the United States by foreign 
 
 nations, 71. 
 
 Acquirements in profanity, Japanese, 738. 
 
 Acquittal of Aaron Burr, on technical grounds, 210. 
 
 Mrs Cunningham, 631. 
 
 Robinson, of the murder of Helen Jewett, 633. 
 
 Acres of art and mechanism from every land, 607. 
 
 Across the Atlantic for the first time by steam, 742. 
 
 Action between the frigates Constitution and Guerriere, 
 225. 
 
 — taken by congress in the Sumner-Brooks case, 623. 
 Active interference by America for Hungary solicited 
 
 by Kossulh. 590. 
 Adams, John, a sketch of his career, 293. 
 
 advocates Washington as commander-in-chief, 
 
 112. 
 
 appointment of as first minister plenipotentiary 
 
 to EnglMUil, 1 10; and interview with King George, 121. 
 
 his eloquent advocacy of American independ- 
 ence, 6'). 
 
 lamented death on the 50th .anniversary of 
 
 Ameiican independence. 291. 
 
 — John Quincy, his struggle for the right of petition. 
 3G2. 
 
 — Samuel, murder of, in New York, by John C. Colt, 
 531. 
 
 Adapted to destroy, fight or run. the Alabama, 8.")2. 
 Adieu to the Army hv General Wasiiingtox, 1783, 
 
 112-118. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first jMge of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Adherents of General Walker in the south and Cali- 
 fornia, 751. 
 
 Adjournment of congress to meet in Philadelphia, 960. 
 
 Adjusting the great Stockton gun for action, 446. 
 
 Admiral Cockbum commands the British naval arma- 
 ment at Washington City, 242. 
 
 — Farragut's Achievements at New Orleans in 
 1862, AND IN Mobile Bay in 1864, and Admiral 
 Porter's Crowning Victory in 1865 at Fort Fish- 
 er, 859-867. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 "— for admiral, flagship for flagship— I'll fight him!" 
 
 863. 
 Admiration, by Emperor Dom Pedro, of the Moody and 
 
 Sankey meetings. 605. 
 Adoption of the Federal Constitution by the different 
 
 States, 138. 
 Advance of Meade's army to meet Lee's hosts, 827. 
 Adventurers warned by the Arab traditions, 498. 
 Advice to his officers by Perry, 236. 
 Advocating the Union cause in England, INIr. Beeeher, 
 
 839. 
 ^gis of the republic again everywhere dominant, 885. 
 AfHuence of the United blates in art, science and litera- 
 ture, 9. 
 Affecting appeal of Lady Franklin, 533. 
 After-scenes of horror at Antietam, 803. 
 Again under the United States flag. New Orleans, 862. 
 Agitation of tlie British ministers on the surrender of 
 
 Cornwallis, 108. 
 
 magnetic needle produced by the comet, 426. 
 
 Agony and death to multitudes in a moment of lime, 
 
 724. 
 Agricultural hall at the centennial, 9,";7. 
 
 — prosperity the basis of the grange system, 939. 
 Alabama and Kearsarge, battle between the. 851. 
 Alarm produced by tlie total solar eclipse, 203. 
 
 wonderful daik day. 89. 
 
 Alaska, scientific expedition sent to, 202. 
 
 Albany, N. Y., immense contiagralion at, .353. 
 
 Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, arrival of, in America, 
 
 757. 
 Alexander, czar of Rnssia, his centennial salutations, 
 
 967. 
 Algerine corsairs driven from the ocean, 188. 
 Ali countries in sympathy with the nation's centennial, 
 
 952. 
 
 — liands mustered on the quarter-deck of the Somers, 
 419. 
 
 "All Hail to the Hereafter!" 968. 
 
 " All ready! " response from Perry's men on the eve of 
 battle, 236. 
 
972 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Alleged final scene between Parkman and "Webster, by 
 the lattKr, 529. 
 
 — foundation of Mr. Tilton's charges, 946. 
 Alliance between America and France, 80. 
 
 Allowing herself to be distanced at first in the prize 
 
 race. 561. 
 Alone ailiis desk wlien attacked, Senator Sumner, 6::0. 
 
 post of duty firing the signal gun, 611. 
 
 Aiong the Jordan— wild and iuipressive scenery, 496. 
 
 Alternatives presented to Mr. Calhoun, 328. 
 
 ■'Am ready at any time," — John Brown's words on the 
 
 scaffold 722. 
 Amazing fortitude of John Brown, 722; — admiration of 
 
 him by his foes, 720. 
 Amendments to the Constitution prohibiiing slavery in 
 
 the republic, 815. 
 "Aniens" in the theater pit, 6^8. 
 amlikica and kxglaxd matched against each 
 
 Other ix Squadron Combat, 234-241. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see fast page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 American and French forces unite at Yorktown, 106. 
 '• — Cousin," play of, at Presidtnt Lincoln's asassina- 
 
 tion, 889. 
 
 — ingenuity, first great triumph of, 153. 
 
 — vernus the British flag, 251. 
 Among the corpses of the little ones, 572. 
 
 savages, explorers' experience, 387. 
 
 Amount of gold taken in ten years from the California 
 mines, 507. 
 
 Amours of the betrayer of Mrs. Sickles, 690. 
 
 "An Arctic Boat Journey," Dr. Hayes's wonderful vol- 
 ume, 509. 
 
 Anatomical science identifying Parkman's scattered re- 
 mains, 527. 
 
 Anchoring of the American expedition under Mount 
 Carmel, 495. 
 
 Ancient and modern wonders compared, 741. 
 
 — knowledge of American rock oil, 699. 
 
 Anderson, Gen. Robert, again raises the old flag of Sum- 
 ter, 885. 
 
 — Maj. Robert, his defense of Fort Sumter, 766. 
 " — John," Alajor Andre's assumed name, 98. 
 
 Andersen's opinion of Morphy's chess playing power, 
 
 667. 
 Andre, Major, capture as a spy and execution of, 98, 103. 
 
 his intrigue with Benedict Arnold, 98. 
 
 Anecdotes relating to locating the national capital, 169. 
 Annapolis, Washington resigns his commission to the 
 
 congress at, 117. 
 Annihilation of the Yankee fleet intended, 251. 
 Anniversary, fifiieth, of American Independence, 291. 
 
 — of the Birth of the Republic, celebrated in 1870, 951. 
 Announcement of Macready's appearance on the N. Y. 
 
 stage, 511. 
 Announcing Dr. Buidell's murder to Mrs. Cunningham, 
 627. 
 
 — the news of Cornwallis's surrender, 110. 
 
 — to Gen. Walker his doom, 755. 
 
 Anomalies, atmospheric, attending the great meteoric 
 
 display, 332. 
 Anonymous letter disclosing Mr. Key's criminality, 690. 
 Answer to a request on the battle-field. General Mc- 
 
 Clellan's, 803. 
 Answering a question with a broadside 80. 
 Antarctic continent discovered by Wilkes, 389. 
 Anthems of thanksgiving to God for the return of peace, 
 
 917. 
 Anti-Macready mob at the opera-house. N. Y., 510. 
 
 Rent Insurrection in New York. 414. 
 
 Anticipations of the great centennial anniversary, 952. 
 
 Antletam, Md., battle of, 798. 
 
 ' Anvil " chorus at the Boston peace jubilee, 919. 
 
 "Apostle of Temperance," the, 398. 
 Apostles, Mormon, sent forth to all nations, 312. 
 Apostrophe to the Union, Webster's, 303. 
 Appearance ami sentence of P. S. Brook.s in court, 623. 
 
 — of General Lee on meeting General Grant, 882. 
 Gen. U. S. Grant, 882. 
 
 THE Marine Mon.ster known as the Sea- 
 
 Sekpent, along the Atlantic Coast, 575-583. 
 
 {For topical and analijtical details, see first paya oj tills 
 Event.) 
 
 "Apples of Sodom," description of the, by explorers, 498. 
 
 Application by Lafayette to enter the American army, 
 274. 
 
 Appointment of John Adams as First Minister Pleidpo- 
 
 lentiary from the New Republic to England, 119-124. 
 
 Lafayette as major-general in his 20th year, 274. 
 
 Appomattox, memorable operations at, 879. 
 
 Appreciative opinion of the Japanese by Pres. Bu- 
 chanan, 737. 
 
 Approach of the " Dark Day," May 19, 1780, 90. 
 
 April fourteenth, 1865, tragical bereavement of the na- 
 tion, 887. 
 
 Aptness for chess displayed by Morphy when a boy, 666. 
 
 Arabian legends of sudden wealth realized in the oil 
 regions, 698. 
 
 Arbuckle's performances at the national peace jubilee, 
 921. 
 
 Arch of honor erected in gratitude to Lafayette, 278. 
 
 Architectural perfection of the Great Eastern, 746. 
 
 — pride of the nation, 360. 
 
 Archives of the nation removed to Washington, the 
 federal capital, 171. 
 
 Arctic seas, expeditions to the, 533. 
 
 Ardent spirits, discussion of the effects of, 393. 
 
 Arguments against Second Adventism by Mr. Miller's 
 opponents, 435. 
 
 Armed resistance to the Rhode Island state charter, 410. 
 
 Arming of negroes prohibited by Pres. Lincoln, 808. 
 
 Armory at Harper's Ferry, John Brown and his follow- 
 ers at the, 716. 
 
 Arnold, Benedict, bravery of in battle, 75. 
 
 his escape, 101. 
 
 pei^onal characteristics, 97. 
 
 Around the bedside of the dying president, 892. 
 
 Arraignment of Burr for high treason, 216. 
 Mrs. Cunningham for murder, C30. 
 
 Arranging the duel between Clay and Randolph, 283. 
 
 Array of eminent counsel in the Beecher trial, 945. 
 
 Arrest of Aaron Burr, 208. 
 
 Arresting Mrs. Cunningham at Dr. Burdell's house, 627. 
 
 Arrival and Exhibition, in New York, of the 
 Ikon Steamship Great Eastern, 740-748. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 I: vent) 
 
 — of JcfTerson Davis at Bull Run, 787. 
 the .Tamcstown at Cork, 484. 
 
 Washington in Cambridge, as commander-in- 
 chief, 114. 
 
 Arson, murder, and robbery, rampant in California's 
 earlier iiistory, ,'')50. 
 
 Art of eloquence, ancient, exceeded by Mr. Webster, 300. 
 music, triumph of in the great Boston organ, 844. 
 
 Artificial li^ht, wonderful revolution in, C98. 
 
 Artillery at Gettysburg, terrific, 827. 
 
 Ashmun, Hon. Geo., his interview with Pres. Lincoln, 
 889. 
 
 Asia and America united by the Pacific railroad, 914. 
 
 Asiatic cholera in the U. S., eras of, 516. 
 
 Asking for re-enforcements, Gen. Burnside, 803. 
 
 Aspect of King George in parliament, when American 
 independence was acknowledged, 120. 
 
 Senator Broderick on the dueling ground, 708; 
 
 and of his antagonist. Judge Terry, 708. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 973 
 
 Assassination of President Lincoln, at Ford's 
 
 Theater, Washinc.ton, by J. \V. Booth, 887-898. 
 {For topical and analytical details, seejirsl page of this 
 
 Krent.) 
 Assassination of President Jackson attempted, 337. 
 Assault on the Hon. Charles Sumner, by Hon. 
 
 Preston S. Brooks, 616-6J5. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Assay of the earliest found California gold, 501. 
 Assuming command at Vicksburg, Geu. Grant, 818. 
 Assumption bill, passage of ih :, lUO. 
 Astonishing Feats of Horse-Taming Performed 
 
 BY John S. Rakky, 7T2-779. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Astonishment in Europe at the capture of the Guerriere, 
 
 233. 
 
 — produced at the south by Whitney's cotton-gin in- 
 vention, 15t5. 
 Astor Place Opera-House Riots, New York. 508- 
 
 511. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 At the extreme solitary north, 536. 
 
 " post of duty," John Morrissey, 684. 
 
 Atlanta, Ga., Sherman at, 809. 
 Atlantic ocean telegraph cable, laying of the, 993. 
 Atmospheric currents during the " Dark Day," 92. 
 Attachment of the confederate army to Geu. Lee, 883. 
 Attacking the enemy in position. Gen. McClellan's 
 
 army, 799. 
 Attempted Assassination of President Jackson, 
 
 AT THE U. 8. Capitol, 337-344. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Attempts, early, to cleanse green cotton-seed, 154. 
 Attendance of Pres. Grant at the Boston peace jubilee, 
 
 919. 
 
 Moody and Sankey meetings, 664. 
 
 Atzerodt, trial and execution of, for conspiracy, 898. 
 Audience of seven thousand people in Jlanchester, Eng., 
 
 Mr. Beecher's, 837. 
 Audiences of tens of thousands at the Boston musical 
 
 festival, 921. 
 Aurora borealis, magnilicent, encompassing the whole 
 
 firmament, 376. 
 Austria, burning of the steamship, 673. 
 Authority for freeing the slaves, John Brown's, 716. 
 Autographic letter from the German emperor to Pres. 
 
 Grant, 967. 
 Avenues and streets of the national capital, planned by 
 
 Gen. Washington, 171. 
 AvoND.*LE Colliery Disaster, 730. 
 A^VFUL Explosion of Co.mjiodore Stockton's 
 
 Great Gun, on Board the U. S. Steamship 
 
 Princeton, 439-446. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 — sublimity of the great meteoric shower. 329. 
 
 — Visitation of the "Angel of Death," 515-522. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 
 B. 
 
 Backing his huge ram for action. Com. Buchanan, 796. 
 Backsliders, temperance, .394. 
 
 Baffling generals and armies, Sherman's success in, 871. 
 — of Burr's plans at New Orleans. 208. 
 Bagging Johnston's whole army, 875. 
 Bailey, Commodore, his naval achievements, 860. 
 
 Bainbridge, Commodore, his stern dealings with the 
 Moors, 185. 
 
 Baldwin, the historian, graphic delineation by, 286. 
 
 Ball-room scenes during the Prince of Wales' tour, 762. 
 
 " Banner of the Cross " raised on sliiiiboard, 423. 
 " — town." the, for furnishing men in the revolution- 
 ary war, 276. 
 
 Barbarous drama enacted by the British army in Wash- 
 ington, 248. 
 
 — encounter between Senator Broderick and Judge 
 Terry, 708. 
 
 Barbary States, Punishment and Degradation of, 182. 
 
 Barclay, Commodore, the veteran cominamler on Lake 
 Erie, 239. 
 
 Barn-buraing excitement in New York, 414. 
 
 Barnum, V. T., his engagement of Jenny Liiid to come 
 to America, 541. 
 
 " Baron Kenfrew," title assumed by the Prince of 
 Wales, on his American tour, 7."j7. 
 
 Barricading the streets to prevent the epidemic spread- 
 ing, 516. 
 
 Bass drum used at the Boston peace jubilee, 922. 
 
 Bathing in the river Jordan, 497. 
 
 Battle of Antietam, Maryland, 798-806. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Bennington, 72. 
 
 Bull Run, Va., between the Federal Army 
 
 under Gen. McDowell and that of the South- 
 ern Confederacy under Beauregard, Johns- 
 ton, and Davis, 780-789. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 " the giants, •• 297. 
 
 Bay-charger owned by Prince Albert tamed by Mr. 
 Rarey, 776. 
 
 Beak or snout of steel in the Merrimac's prow, 790. 
 
 Beauregard, Gen., his demand of the surrender of Fort 
 Sumter, 765. 
 
 Beautiful appearance of the unfortunate Mrs. Sickles, 
 690. 
 
 — out-door musical incident in Jenny Lind's career, 547. 
 Beauty and high social position of Mrs. Sickles before 
 
 her fall, 690. 
 
 wondrousness of the total solar eclipse, 202. 
 
 — , loveliness— agony, frenzy, death, 444. 
 
 — of nature after the Dark Day, 96. 
 the site of the national capital, 171. 
 
 Before the duel, scene at Clay's house, 283. 
 
 Beginning of the wonderful aurora borealis, 384. 
 
 Behavior of Burr, on the dueling-ground, 192. 
 
 Belching forth of flames from the Pemberton Mills 
 ruins, 724. 
 
 Bell, Commodore, his naval achievements, SCO. 
 
 Beneath tbe oak tree. Gens. Grant and Pemberton sit- 
 ting. 821. 
 
 Benignity of Pres. Lincoln, Gen. Lee's tribute to, 893. 
 
 Bennington, battle of, 72. 
 
 Benton's account of the nullifiers' dinner, 321. 
 
 — famous "expunging resolution," 373. 
 
 Berlin, celebr.alion of the American centennial at, 966. 
 " Best part of the music," at the national peace jubilee, 
 
 922. 
 " Bewara of a Gnineaman !" 422. 
 " surprise!" Washington's warning to St. Clair, 
 
 149. 
 Bible presented to the Prince of Wales by Trinity Church, 
 
 N. Y.. 760. 
 
 — used !it Washington's inauguration, present owners 
 of, 145. 
 
 Biblical plates, the Mormon, history of. 307. 
 Biddle, Commodore, his mission to the Jap.anese govern- 
 ment, 593. 
 
974 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Biddle's capture of the British man-of-war Frolic, 231. 
 
 — , Nicholas, his administration of the U. S. Banlc, 374. 
 Bill-of-lading unprecedented, 481. 
 Billows of inextinguishable flame covering the city of 
 
 Chicago, 927. 
 Birds, distraction of, during the total solar eclipse, 202. 
 ' — of prey during the terrible Boston tire, 934. 
 BiiiTH Of THE New Republic, 65-71. 
 (For topuial and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event ) 
 
 , Centennial celebration of the, 951. 
 
 Birthday of Jefferson, anniversary celebration of the, 
 
 321. 
 Bishop Onderdonk's solemn trial, 448. 
 Bitter insult from Randolph to Clay, 283. 
 " Blacli Hawk," war with the Indian chief, 147. 
 
 — lines drawn around the resolution censuring Pres. 
 Jackson, 378. 
 
 Blackburn's Ford, Tyler's engagement at, 782. 
 
 Bhulensburg dueling-ground, 285. 
 
 Blandishments of the Japanese visitors in ladies' society, 
 
 739. 
 Blank cartridges not used at the next fire, 514. 
 Blaze of excitement throughout the country caused by 
 
 John Brown's raid, 7J2. 
 Blending of musical and architectural beauty in the 
 
 great Boston organ, 818. 
 Blenker's reply to the order to retreat at Bull Run, 786. 
 Blennerhassett, Burr's companion and accomplice, 205; 
 
 his sad fate, 210. 
 Blinded by his antagonist's blow, Broderick, 711. 
 Blindfold games and triumphs in chess by Paul Morphy, 
 
 609. 
 Bliss during the amputation of limbs. 459. 
 Block after block of immense business palaces destroyed 
 
 by the Boston tire, 932. 
 Blood spilled on the floor of the U. S. senate, 619. 
 Blood-stains, pirates wiping out, 315. 
 Bloodiest day that America ever saw, 803. 
 Bloodless campaign of conquest by Gen. Sherman, 8G8. 
 Bloodthirsliness of the dueling code, 713. 
 Bloody and Revolting Prize-Fight between 
 
 John JMobrlssey and John C. Heenan. 681-688. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Bloomer Cut on the Union Paciflc railroad, 909. 
 Blowing up Boston houses with gunpowder to arrest the 
 
 fire, 932. 
 
 Fort Hill at Vicksburg, 819. 
 
 Blows of the sledge telegraphed to all the great cities, 
 
 on laying the last rail of tlie Pacific road, 912. 
 Blue cockailes and palmetto buttons, 323. 
 Bluff reply of Farragut when asked to join the South, 
 
 860. 
 Blunt demand for the surrender of New Orleans, Far- 
 
 ragut's, 862. 
 Boggs, Captain, his naval achievements, 860. 
 Bombardment and reduction of Fort Sumter, 
 
 764-771. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 — of Tripoli, 187. 
 
 Bombshell in the camp of the conspirators, 321. 
 
 Bon Hotnme Richard, description of the ship, 83. 
 
 Bonaparte, Napoleon, his tribute to Washington's great- 
 ness, 174. 
 
 Bones of California emigrants whitening the soil, 500. 
 
 Boon conferred by etherization upon tlie human race, 
 457. 
 
 Booth, J. "Wilkes, his assassination of Pres. Lincoln, 
 887; his flight, 891; swift and bloody end, 897. 
 
 " Booty and beauty," British watchword at New Orleans, 
 263. 
 
 Border States, consternation in the, produced by Lee's 
 
 military plans, 826. 
 Boring petroleum wells, 699. 
 Borne through the London crowd on his friends' 
 
 shoulders, 840. 
 Borrowing a shilling for his dinner, Elias Howe, jr., 
 
 466. 
 
 — an infant, Mrs. Cunningham's purpose in, 632. 
 Boston, terrible fire iu the business heart of, 931. 
 Bottle of wine, Fulton too poor to celebrate his inven- 
 tion with a, 216. 
 
 Bought a cutfln for his wife but was buried in it himself, 
 520. 
 
 Boundless treasures of beauty and utility at the centen- 
 nial exposition, 960. 
 
 Bowels of the earth yielding illuminating oil, 698. 
 
 Boyhood fondness lor horses, Rarey's, 773. 
 
 — heroism in a scene of awful calamity, 571. 
 Bradford, David, leader of the Whiskey Insurrection, 
 
 162. 
 Branding pugilism as a felony, 684. 
 Brandishing his dagger at the audience, Booth, 890. 
 Brandywiiie, battle of, 72. 
 Brassy hue of the clouds. May 19, 1780, 94. 
 Brazil, emperor of, his attendance at the centennial, 
 
 952. 
 Breaking and taming horses, Rarey's wonderful success 
 
 in, 774. 
 
 — of a stair-r.'uling in a school-house, awful effects of 
 the, 5i;9. 
 
 — Out of the Temperance Reformation, 393. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of tliis 
 
 Event.) 
 Breaking-up of Burr's expedition, 207. 
 Breasting a slorm of aceusati(ms, 454. 
 Bribes offered by Andre for his release, 99. 
 Bridal chamber, cholera in the, 520. 
 Brief mes.sage of Pres. Jackson to the South Carolin i 
 
 nullifiers, 328. 
 Brigbt, John, his tribute to Cyrus W. Field's enterprise, 
 
 90G. 
 Brilliant Musical Tour of Jenny Lind, this 
 
 '• Swedish Nightingale," 541-549. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 " Bring out your dead! ' 521. 
 Bringing Ex-President Aiiams to the bar of congress, 366. 
 
 — the new oil, petroleum, into use, 703. 
 
 British admiration of American nautical strategy, 
 227. 
 
 — officers listening to the reading of the Declaratioa 
 of Independence, 68. 
 
 — rule broken in America, Oct. 19, 1781, 107. 
 Broad blue pennants in English waters, 741. 
 Broadway, N. Y., scene in, during the grand Kossuth 
 
 procession, .587. 
 
 Broderick, Senator, fatally sliot in a duel with Judge 
 Terry, 710. 
 
 Broken limbs failing to dampen Rarey's enthusiasm, 
 773. 
 
 Brooklyn court-house, in the Tilton-Beecher trial, 915. 
 
 Brooks's attack on Senator Sumner, 616. 
 
 Brown, John, his attack on Harper's Ferry, 716. 
 
 Brnte creation, effect of the solar eclipse on the, 198. 
 
 Bryant vase at the centennial, 959. 
 
 Buchanan, Com., plans the monster Merrimac, 790. 
 
 Buena Vista, Taylor's victory at, 488. 
 
 Buildings and their contents at the centennial exposi- 
 tion, 95.')'. 
 
 Bull Hun, battle of, 780. 
 
 Bunkcr-llill, Lafayette's visit to, 278. 
 
 Bnrdell murder case, the, 626, 
 
 Burgoyne's grand preparations to subdue America, 73. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 975 
 
 Bcrgoyne's Surbexder of nis Army to Gen. 
 
 Gates, 73-80. 
 [For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
 
 Kvmt.) 
 Uuriul among the mouutuius at North Elba, John 
 
 Brown's, 7l!2. 
 
 — ot George Washington, 178. 
 the innocents, 574. 
 
 Burial-grounds engulfed by the western earthquake, 
 
 221. 
 Burke, Fox, and Pitt, eloquence of, on American affairs, 
 
 109. 
 Burning of one of the great oil wells, 702. 
 
 THE City of Chicac.o, III., the Commercial 
 
 Metropolis of the North-west, 924-930. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Ecent.) 
 
 Steamship Austria, on her avay from 
 
 Hamburg to New York, 673-G80. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event ) 
 
 Washington by the British, 242. 
 
 Burr, Aaron, conspiracy and trial of, 204. 
 
 his fatal duel with Hamilton, 189. 
 
 melancholy eii<l of, 210. 
 
 Burritt, Eliliu, his apostrophe to Labor, 607. 
 Bursting of the great " land bubble," 645. 
 
 Stockton gun, 441. 
 
 Burton's theater, New York, use of, for prayer-meetings, 
 
 655. 
 Business abandoned and cities deserted during the yel- 
 low fever contagion, 521. 
 during the total eclipse, 197. 
 
 — action proposed by the grangers, 939. 
 
 — and financial crisis, 644. 
 
 — portion of Boston totally destroyed by a terrible fire, 
 936. 
 
 Bustling day at the bank counter, 649. 
 Butchering his victims, Gibbs, the pirate, 317. 
 Butchery of Dr. Burdell by his murderer, 630. 
 Butler, Senator, his speech on Kansas affairs, 617. 
 Buying and leasing petroleum lands, 701, 
 By rail from New York to San Francisco in 83 hours, 
 914. 
 
 c. 
 
 Cabinet consultation over the emancipation document, 
 808. 
 
 — discussion in England if Cornwallis's defeat, 109. 
 C.ilhouu's famous toast, 321. 
 
 Calif. irnia, earthquakes in, 224. 
 
 — gold discoveries at Sutter's Jlill, 500. 
 — , pioneer expeditions to, 405. 
 
 — vigilance committee, reign of the, 550. 
 
 Call for one hundred thousand more men, Pres. Lincoln's, 
 
 826. 
 
 water, panic in a school-house caused by a, 568. 
 
 Calling the battle-roll of the Republic, 771. 
 Calm in the midst of threats and tumults, 303. 
 Camp-ground of the Second Adventists, Mr. Whittier's 
 
 visit to the, 438. 
 Campaign against Vicksburg, the Gibraltar of 
 
 THE Mississippi, by the Union Forces under 
 
 General Grant, 817-825. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Canby, Gen., surrender of confederate army to, 885 
 Candles in use during the celebrated "Dark Day," 90. 
 Cannonading of Vicksburg, 818. 
 Canopy of gorgeous crimson flames encircling the earth, 
 
 381. 
 Canvas of our national life unrolled, 10. 
 
 Cape Ann, youjig of the sea-serpent found at, 577. 
 
 — Antonio, rendezvous of Gibbs's piratical craft, al6. 
 
 — llatteras f reciucnted by the se.a-serpent, 678. 
 Capital, national, magnificence of, 172. 
 Capitol, national, superb character of, 172. 
 
 Washington lays the corner stone of the, 170. 
 
 Capitulation of Gen. Burgoyne's Army to Gen. 
 
 Gates, 72-80. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Captain Herndon sinking with his ship, 037. 
 
 — Luce in the hour of woe, 610. 
 
 — Wilkes at the U8th degree of east longitude, 386. 
 Captivity of American citizens in Algiers, 183. 
 Capture of Aaron Burr, 208. 
 
 Harper's Ferry by John Brown, 710. 
 
 the ass,assin Booth and his accomplice, 895. 
 
 British Frigate Guerriere, by the U. 
 
 S. Frigate Constitution, 225-233. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Card signed by Pres. Lincoln a few hours before his 
 
 assassination, 889. 
 Cards and dice consigned to the flames, 650. 
 
 — of invitation for the Princeton excursion, 439. 
 Career, Capture, and Execution of Gibbs, the 
 
 Most Noted Pirate of the Century, 314-319. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 — and fate of Helen Jewett, the brilliant and depraved 
 courtesan, 634. 
 
 — of Aaron Burr, 190. 
 
 Rev. William Miller, the Advent preacher, 432. 
 
 Carnage at the battle of Antietam, 803. 
 
 Carnival of lawlessness and crime, 358. 
 
 Carpenter, F. B., his graphic account of the emancipa- 
 tion document, 810; his magnificent historical paint- 
 ing, 809. 
 
 Carpenters' or Independence Hall, Philadelphia, 71. 
 
 Carries his London audience by storm, Beecher, 843. 
 
 Carrj'ing all hearts, Mr. Saiikey's singing, 664. 
 
 — the stars and stripes to the furthermost north, 539. 
 Cartwright, Peter, the revival preacher, 657. 
 
 Casting their children into the sea to escape the flames, 
 
 676. 
 " Casta Diva," as sung by Jenny Lind, 546. 
 Casual origin of the telegraph invention, 346. 
 
 — revelations of spiritual phenomena, 473. 
 Cattle, effect upon, by the total solar eclipse, 202. 
 Cause of the comet's intense brilliancy, 429. 
 
 great fire in New York, 361. 
 
 Causeless raid on marine property in time of war, 851. 
 
 Cavalry generalship of Kilpatrick, 873. 
 
 Celebrities present at the inauguration of the industri.^l 
 exhibition, 605. 
 
 Celestial phenomena, most grand and brilliant ever be- 
 held, 329. 
 
 Cemetery Hill, Gettysburg, scene at, during the battle. 
 828. 
 
 Centennial Commemoration of the Birth of 
 THE Republic, 951-968. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Central America, foundering of the steamer, 635. 
 
 Centuries of fruitless search in surgery, 457 ; found at 
 last, 458. 
 
 Century of the republic, glory of the, 8. 
 
 Ceremonial at Annapolis, Md., on the resignation of 
 Washington as commander-in-chief, 117. 
 
 — on the presentation of John Adams, as minister to 
 England, to the King, 121. 
 
 Ceremony at the opening of the N. Y. World's Fair, 605. 
 Cessation of labor during the " Dark Day," 92. 
 
976 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Cession of immensely valuable territories by Mexico to 
 
 the U. S., 493. 
 
 Cliain of circumstances leading to Dr. Parkman's mur- 
 derer, 525. 
 
 Cliairs flying upon the stage— sudden fall of the curtain, 
 511. 
 
 Challenge sent by Clay to Kandolph, 283. 
 to Hamilton by Burr, 192. 
 
 " Chamber of Judgment," the vigilance committee's, 551. 
 
 '• Champion of the right of petition," the, 372. 
 
 Championship of America's cause in England by Rev. 
 H. W. Beecher, 836. 
 
 Change of temperature during the total solar eclipse, 
 
 201. 
 the barometer during the " Dark Day," 91. 
 
 — sought by the grange movement, 939. 
 
 Changing his plan of operations at Vicksburg, Gen. 
 Grant, 819. 
 
 Chanting witches' choruses for Mr. Maeready, 510. 
 
 Chapultepec stormed by Gen. Scott, 403. 
 
 < haracterislic exclamation by John Quincy Adams, 372. 
 
 Charleston, S. C, batteries erected at, 765. 
 
 fearful conflagration in, 353. 
 
 hoisting the stars and stripes again in, 875. 
 
 Charmed observers, millions of, of the great auroral spec- 
 tacle, 382. 
 
 Charnel-house horrors during the Chicago fire, 926. 
 
 Charter of the U. S. Bank, opposition to the, 374. 
 
 "Charter" vs. "Constitution," 408. 
 
 Chase of the Constitution by four British ships, 226. 
 
 Cheering each other amid the roar of the waves, 608. 
 
 Chemical and other characteristics of the Dead Sea, 498. 
 
 Chepachet, gathering of armed forces at, 412. 
 
 Cherbourg, combat between the Kearsarge and Alabama 
 at, 852; tactics of the two vessels, 855. 
 
 Cherokee Indians, war with the, 147. 
 
 Chess performances by Paul Morphy, 666. 
 
 Chicago, 111., burning of, in 1871, 924. 
 , the Prince of Wales's visit to, 757. 
 
 Chickahominy, campaign of the, 878. 
 
 Childhood's words in scenes of mortal anguish, 5C9. 
 
 " Child's play," term used by Clay at the dueling- 
 ground, 287. 
 
 Chimerical railroad schemes, 645. 
 
 Cliiming the city bells at the Boston peace jubilee, 918. 
 
 Choice of George VV'ashington as Commander-in-Chief, 
 113. 
 
 Choral combinations at the national musical festival, 917. 
 
 "Christian dogs" in Algiers, American liberation of, 
 187. 
 
 Christmas gift to President Lincoln, Gen. Sherman's, 
 875. 
 
 Cilley, Hon. Jona., fatally shot in a duel with Graves, 
 713. 
 
 Cincinnati and Chicago, during the great awakening, 654. 
 — , ovation to the Prince of Wales at, 758. 
 
 Circuit of the comet, round the sun, 427. 
 travel accomplisbetl by Fremont, 405. 
 
 Circumnavigation and survey of the Dead Sea, 496. 
 
 Circumstances under which the electric telegraph was 
 discovered, 316. 
 
 Circumst mtial description of the sea-serpent by a clergy- 
 niini, 576. 
 
 Citizenship conferred upon the freed slaves. 815. 
 
 — restored to Thos. W. Dorr, in Rhode Island, 413. 
 Ciudad de los Angclos taken jiossession of, 407. 
 Civil war inaugurated in the United States, 764. 
 Clarke, Billy, originator of the first temperance society, 
 
 393. 
 Clasping each other .and jumping into the ocean together, 
 
 676. 
 Clay, Henry, his duel with John Randoliih. 'JS2. 
 Clear sky during the great September gule, 265. 
 
 Clerical callers on John Brown in jail, 721. 
 
 Clermont, the name of Fulton's first steam-boat, 216. 
 
 Cbmax of enthusiasm at the peace jubilee, 918. 
 — the total solar eclipse, 201. 
 
 '^-linton's. Gen., unsuccessful effort to relieve Burgoyne, 
 77. 
 wanton destruction of property, 77. 
 
 Clothing and ornaments worn by the Japanese ambassa- 
 dors, 733. 
 ■ Cobb's, Judge, reply to a Massachusetts mob, 125. 
 
 Cockburn, Admiral, his beastly degradation at Washing- 
 ton, 249. 
 
 Coffee instead of rum for Farragut's men, 866. 
 
 Coflin, C. C, his account of Lincoln's reception in Rich- 
 mond, 883. 
 
 Cold-water armies and processions, 398. 
 
 Coliseum at Boston for the peace jubilee, appearance 
 of the, 916. 
 
 Collection and use of rock oil by the Indians in olden 
 times, 699. 
 
 College named in honor of Lafayette, 281. 
 
 Colliery disaster at Avondale, Penn., 730. 
 
 Collision of the steamers Arctic and Vesta, 608. 
 
 Color of objects during the " Dark Day," 91. 
 the sea-serpent, 578. 
 
 Colors by the score taken at Antietam, 804. 
 
 Colt, John C, murder of Samuel Adams by, 531. 
 
 Column or area of destruction during the great gale, 
 268. 
 
 Combat between the Alabama, Captain Semmes, 
 
 AND THE KEAK.SARGE, CaPTAIN WiNSLOW, OFF 
 
 Cherbourg, 851-858. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Combinations in the interests of labor, 9.38. 
 
 Combustibles all around on the breaking out of the 
 Chicago fire, 925. 
 
 Combustion caused by hot tar on board the ill-fated 
 Austria, 674. 
 
 Comet of 1843, sudden appearance of the 425. 
 
 Coming alongside her antagonist, the Constitution, 228. 
 
 Commemoration of the nation's centennial, 960. 
 
 Commencement of the difiiculties between Forrest and 
 Maeready, 509. 
 national executive government, under Washing- 
 ton, 143. 
 
 Commerce of all nations, the, devastated by the pirate 
 Gibbs. 317. 
 the North ravaged by the Alabama, 854. 
 
 Commercial palaces in Boston destroyed by Are, sixty- 
 five acres of, 936. 
 
 Commingling of horrible sights and sounds in the Pem- 
 berton Mills ruins, 724. 
 
 Commission ol>tained by Gen. WalKer as Nicaraguan 
 commander-in-chief 750. 
 
 Commissioners to France in behalf of the American 
 Cause, 70. 
 
 Committee appointed at Phila., to draft the Declaration 
 of Indpi>endence, 66. 
 
 — appointed to investigate the spirit rappings 474. 
 Communications between the old world and the new by 
 
 telegraphy, 904. 
 Company formed for consummating tbo ocean telegraph 
 enteri)rise, 901. 
 
 — of monarchs and princes at Rarey's horse-taming 
 exhibition, 775. 
 
 Comparison of the Chicago and Boston fires, 936. 
 Competitors all distanc(?d by the yaclit America, ,565. 
 
 COMPLF.TION OF THF, PACIFIC RAILROAD, 907-914. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Complications between England and America caused by 
 the Alabama, 851. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 977 
 
 Conipliineiilarj' tribute from Cornwallis to Gen. Wash- 
 ington. 111. 
 
 Coiiiplinientiiig his guest's temperance principle, Wash- 
 ington, 401. 
 
 Compliments to Mr. Field, the projector of the ocean 
 telegraph. 001. 
 
 Composure of Prof. Webster during his trial for murder, 
 5-2S. 
 
 Compromise bill originated by Mr. Clay, 325- 
 
 Computations of the comet's orbit, 425. 
 
 Concentration of the contending armies at Gettysburg, 
 Pa., 827. 
 
 Conceptions in military strategy, Sherman's unequaled, 
 878. 
 
 Concert by Jenny Lind at Castle Garden, her tirst in 
 America, 5-16. 
 
 ten tliousand children during the Boston peace 
 
 jubilee, 921. 
 
 Concurrence of testimony relating to the sea serpent, 
 577. 
 
 Condemnatory resolution, passage of, against Pres. Jack- 
 son, 375. 
 
 Conduct of Washington on being named as commander- 
 in-chief, 113. 
 
 Conference between Commodore Perry and the Japan- 
 ese oflioials, 596. 
 
 — in Canada, John Brown's, 715. 
 Confession of his crime by Spencer, 420. 
 
 , Gibbs's, 315; his execution, 319. 
 
 — of Mrs. Tilton, 946; her retracting the same, 947. 
 Confidence fortunately misplaced, 416. 
 
 " Confidence," in hard times, a Frenchman's idea of, 
 645. 
 
 Confident of victory, Capt Semmes, 855. 
 
 Configuration of the Dead Sea determined by Ameri- 
 can surveys, 497. 
 
 Conflagration and suicide instead of an execution, in 
 Colt's case, 531. 
 
 — in the business heart of Boston, 931. 
 
 — of 1835, as viewed from Coenties Slip, 357. 
 Conflict of testimony in the Beecher trial, 948. 
 Congratulatory reply to Washington, in congress, on his 
 
 resigning his commission, 117. 
 Congress driven from its halls in 1783, 167. 
 — , fate of the frigate, 791. 
 — , first session of, at Washington, 171. 
 Congressional temperance society. 394. 
 Connecticut legislature, session of, during the " Darli 
 
 Day," 90. 
 coxqaest and burning of washington by the 
 
 British, 242-249. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Consents to examine some documents in the cabin, 749. 
 Conservatory, beauty of the centennial, 957. 
 
 CONSPIRACV AND TRIAL OF AARON BURR, 204-211. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 — to murder all the chief otficers of the government, 
 887. 
 
 Consternation in England, on Cornwallis's surrender, 
 
 108. 
 Constituting the first Mormon church, 309. 
 Constitution, capture of the Guerriere by the frigate, 
 
 225. 
 
 CONSTITUTION, FEDERAL, FORMATION AND ADOP- 
 TION OF THE, 132. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Construction of a steam-boat by Fulton, 214. 
 
 the N. Y. Crystal Palace, 602. 
 
 Consummate generalship displayed by Jackson at New 
 Orleans, 257. 
 
 62 
 
 Consummation of all temporal things predicted, 432. 
 Contemplated arrest of Calhoun by Pres. Jackson, 324. 
 Contempt of Americans for Japanese etiquette, 594. 
 Contents of the tea-chest, vault, and furnace, in Prof. 
 
 Webster's apartments, 525, 
 Continent, the Antarctic, seen by the U. S. exploring ex- 
 pedition, 390. 
 
 — s connected by a vast and lofty ice-wall, 536. 
 Contrast between Clay and Kandolj)]!, 1:86. 
 Control of the key to the public funds, 375. 
 Convention at Philadelphia for framing the Constitution, 
 133. 
 
 — , extraordinary, of American bishops, 448. 
 Conversation between John Brown and his jailor, 721. 
 
 King George and John Adams, 123. 
 
 Midi aipman Spencer and his commander, 417. 
 
 the &.-»assin Booth and his captors. 897. 
 
 — with Morrissey after the prize-fight, 680 ; his idea as 
 to a seat in congress, 687. 
 
 Pres. Lincoln on the evening of the tragedy, 889 
 
 Senator Broderick in his dying hour, 711. 
 
 Conversions of infidels and pugilists during the revival, 
 
 659. 
 Convulsions of nature during the western earthquake, 
 
 220. 
 Conway, Gen., his intrigues against Gen. Washington, 79. 
 Cool delay of Hull in commencing his action with the 
 
 Guerriere, 232. 
 Coolness of Gen. Walker on marching to the place of exe- 
 cution, 755. 
 Cooper. J. Fenimore, his opinion of John Paul Jones's 
 
 naval victory, 81. 
 Co-operation of eminent men in the temperance move- 
 ment, 394. 
 Co-operative system proposed by the grangers, 939. 
 Coral characteristics of the petroleum regions, 705. 
 Corbett, Boston, the slaj'er of J. Wilkes Booth, 890. 
 Corliss engine, Pres. Grant and Emperor Dora Pedro 
 
 starting the, 954, 
 Corner-stone of the U. S. capitol, laying of the, 170. 
 Cornet quartet band of the Emperor William, 923. 
 Cornwallis surrenders his Splendid Army to 
 
 Gen. Washington, 104-111. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Coronation of labor, the, 607. 
 Corpse. Washington's, re-interment and appearance 
 
 of, in 1837, 178. 
 Correcting bank mistakes, 289. 
 Correspondence, final, between Grant and Lee, 882, 
 Corruscations in the atmosphere, during the "Dark 
 
 Day," 92. 
 Corsairs of Barbary, piratical, driven from the ocean, 
 
 182. 
 Cortege of Pres. Lincoln's rema'us through the North 
 
 and West, 894. 
 Cotton-gin, invention of the, 153. 
 
 Countenances of the two duelists on the fatal field, 709, 
 Counterfeit petitions sent to congress, 367. 
 Courage at the battle of New Orleans, 262. 
 Course of the total solar eclipse, 199. 
 Court, Whitney's cotton-gin in, 158. 
 Court-scene during Burr's trial, 210. 
 Courtesies between Jenny Lind and Daniel Webster, 548. 
 the victor and the vanquished of the prize-ring, 
 
 686. 
 
 — in old age between Adams and Jefferson, 295. 
 
 — of the British general to Mrs. Madison, 248. 
 Courting <he embrace of death, 615. 
 
 Courts of justice threatened by Massachusetts rebels, 
 
 128. 
 " Cradle of Liberty," or Faneuil Hall, in Boston, 963. 
 Craft and cunning of Santa Anna in warfare, 488, 
 
978 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Crash, sudden and universal, in the commercial world, 
 
 eso. 
 
 Crawford's grand charge at Gettysburg, 831. 
 Creek war of 1814, 147. 
 
 Crest of South Mountain, the troops at the, 799. 
 Crew of the Constitution, tribute to the, 229. 
 
 steamer Arctic deserting the ship, 615. 
 
 Crippled at last, the monster ram, 864. 
 
 Crisis in the business and financial world, 644. 
 
 life of Mr. Calhoun, 327. 
 
 — of public affairs after the revolutionary war, 132. 
 Critical point in the battle on Lake Champlain, 255. 
 Crops, singular effect of the Sept. gale, 1815, on the, 
 
 269. 
 Crowned heads admiring American mechanical genius, 
 
 742. 
 Crowning glory of Gen. Jackson's civil life, 378. 
 Cruise, memorable, of the frigate Constitution, 226. 
 '"Cruiser," Rarey's management of the furious horse 
 
 known as, 774. 
 Crushed within the coils of Sherman's resistless columns, 
 
 873. 
 Crystal bridge connecting America and Greenland, 
 
 536. 
 
 — Palace, New York, exhibition in the, 600. 
 Culmination of the Forrest and Macready dispute, 
 
 508. 
 
 sectional antagonism produced by slavery, 
 
 764. 
 Cumberland, army of the, reunion of at Philadelphia, 
 955. 
 
 — piercing and sinking of the frigate, 792. 
 Cunningham, Mrs , her trial for the murder of Dr. Bur- 
 
 dell, 626. 
 •*Cup of All Nations," the, won by the Americans, 
 
 565. 
 Curiosities of telegraphic science in connection with the 
 
 cable, 904. 
 Curtain of rich and gorgeous colors covering the earth, 
 
 383. 
 Cushraan, Charlotte, recites the ode at the inauguration 
 
 of Boston organ. 849. 
 Custis's account of Washington's last hours, 175. 
 Customs and theories in business, changes sought by the 
 
 grangers in, 910. 
 
 — initiated at the first presidential inauguration, 144. 
 Cut-throats baude4 together against society in Cali- 
 fornia, 550. 
 
 Cutting off Lee's hope of retreat, Gen. Grant, 881. 
 
 D. 
 
 -Jacres, Captain, his insolent challenge to the American 
 
 navy, 228. 
 Damages of .$100,000 sought by Mr. Tilton, 946. 
 Dancing with the Prince of Wales, 763. 
 Daniel and John, the basis of Miller's second advent 
 
 conclusions, 434. 
 Danville, Jeff. Davis setting up his government at, 
 
 884. 
 D irk case for Mrs. Cunningham in court, 631. 
 Dark Day ix all New England, May 19, 1780, 89. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first par/e of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Darkest page in the history of the country, 887. 
 Darkne.'^s during the total solar eclipse, 197. 
 Data exh. biting our prodigious n.'itlonal growth, 8. 
 "Daughter of tlie Regiment," Jenny Lind as the, 543. 
 Davis, Jefferson, at the battle of Bull Run, 787. 
 , his flight from Richmond, 884; his capture, 884; 
 
 a prisoner at Fortress Monroe, 884. 
 Dawn of peace and universal joy, 887. 
 
 Day-break scene at Harper's Ferry, Oct. 17, 1859, 716. 
 Dazzling ice-wall of boundless dimensions, 536. 
 
 — magnificence of the gifts to Paul jMorphy, 069. 
 
 — representations of his schemes, Burr's, 205. 
 Dead and living floating together, 6o8. 
 
 — Sea and River Jordan, expedition to, 494. 
 
 Deadly encounter between Hon. Messrs. Cilley and 
 Graves, 712. 
 
 Deafening acclamations at the result of the Lake Cham- 
 plain battle, 256. 
 
 Dealing with the savages, Wilkes's exploring party, 
 392. 
 
 Death of Alexander Hamilton, 195. 
 
 Death of George Wa.shixgton, 174-181. 
 For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event ) 
 
 Death-bed scenes and incidents, Pres. Lincoln's, 891. 
 
 Death-knell of Indian power in America, 152. 
 
 Debate between Webstar and Hayne, 297. 
 — s in the convention for forming the Federal Constitu- 
 tion, 136. 
 
 Decanters relieved of their contents, 394. 
 
 Decatur, Commodore, his new style of " tribute," 182. 
 
 December 16, 1835, night of, memorable in N. Y., 353. 
 
 Deciding the fate of the metropolis, 245. 
 
 Declaration of Independence and National 
 Sovereignty, 65-71. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Declining to drink wine at Washington's table, 401. 
 
 Decomposition of marine plants causing petroleum, 
 705. 
 
 Decoy -letter sent by Washington, 107. 
 
 Dedicating ceremonies at the Bull Run memorial monn- 
 ment, 788. 
 
 Dedication of " Our First Century," 7. 
 
 Deep-laid plot to convert the U. S. Brig Somers into a 
 pirate, 415. 
 
 — rod appearance of the snow, in Nov., 1837, 380. 
 Defeat of the British on their favorite element, 256. 
 Defending his country's cause in England, Rev. H. W. 
 
 Beecher, 836. 
 
 — the right of petition in congress, 368. 
 
 Defiance of the British Empire by her Youngest Colo- 
 nies, 65. 
 
 Degradation of the Barbary States by the Young Repub- 
 lic, 182. 
 
 DeHaven, Lieut, p. J., his command of the Advance 
 and Rescue, 534. 
 
 Deistic views of Wm. Miller, ir) his parly life, 432. 
 
 DeKalb's grave, visit of Washington and Lafayette to, 
 278. 
 
 Delaware, passage of the, by Washington, 114. 
 
 Delegates to the convention for framing the Federal 
 Constitution, 134. 
 
 Delightful responsive warbling between Jenny Lind and 
 an out-door bird, 547. 
 
 Deliverer among the delivered, 884. 
 
 Demonstrations along the route of Fulton's first steam- 
 boat, 214. 
 
 Demoralization of the Union troops at Bull Run, 786. 
 
 Demosthenes and Webster compared, 2!I7. 
 
 Denmark acknowledges the independence of the U. S., 
 71. 
 
 Denunciation of the U. S. whiskey tax. 160. 
 
 Denunciatory debate in congress against John Quincy 
 Adams, 3i;5. 
 
 Departure of Lafayette from America, 281. 
 the Great Eastern for the western world. 744. 
 
 Depositions of numerous eye-witnesses of the sea-ser- 
 pent, 577. 
 
 Depth and density of darkness, May 19, 1780, 94. 
 
 Deputations from all parts of the land to Kossuth, r88. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 979 
 
 De Rochambeau, Count, extolled by the American peo- 
 ple, 110. 
 
 Descent into an extinct volcano, .'iSO. 
 
 Descripliou of the uiagniticent centennial exposition, 
 955. 
 
 scene in parliament when American Inde- 
 pendence was acknowledged, 120. 
 
 Desolation of all New England by the great September 
 gale, 270. 
 
 Desperate midnight movement by Cornwalli?, 106. 
 
 Desperation and death during the tire in Chicago, 926. 
 
 Despotic power of Bradford, the Penn. insurrectionist, 
 over his followers, 165. 
 
 Destinies of the Republic changed, 616. 
 
 Destructive effect of the Merrimac's movements in 
 Hampton Roads, 792. 
 
 Details of the great organ erected in Boston, 816. 
 
 Detection of Andre's character as a spy, 99. 
 
 Detective skill, Col. Baker's, in capturing Booth, 894. 
 
 Determination not to harm Burr, Hamilton's, 194. 
 
 — of the Young Republic to punish the piratical pow- 
 ers, 183. 
 
 Development among all nations of " spiritual" phenom- 
 ena, 472. 
 
 Devotion of Theodosia, Burr's daughter, to her father, 
 210. 
 
 Diabolical conspiracy of Booth and his accomplices, 887. 
 
 Diameter of the comet's bright nucleus, 429. 
 
 Diary, last entrance in Washington's, 175. 
 
 Different tastes and preferences consulted in this vol- 
 ume, 11. 
 
 — temperaments of jurymen illustrated, 696. 
 Dignity of the members comprising the convention for 
 
 forming the Federal Constitution, 133. 
 
 Dimensions of the most superb organ in America, 845. 
 sea-serpent, 580. 
 
 Dinner-party account of Lee'S surrender, Gen. Grant's, 
 882. 
 
 Diplomatic conferences with the Japanese, 597. 
 
 Dipping her colors to the Queen, .566. 
 
 Dire apprehension of impending calamity, 322. 
 
 Direction of the terrible Sept. gale, 270. 
 
 Dirge and requiem fill the land, at Pres. Lincoln's death, 
 892. 
 
 Disabling of the monster craft Merrimac by the Moni- 
 tor, 795. 
 
 Disagreement in the Tilton-Beecher case, 950. 
 
 Disappointed expectations at Lake Champlain, 252. 
 
 Disappointment of Miller, the Second Advent preacher, 
 437. 
 
 Disastrous defeat of the Union army at Bull Run, 786. 
 
 Disavowal of partisan aims by the grangers, 910. 
 
 Disc of the sun seen during the " Dark Day." 93. 
 
 Discharging his pistol into the air, Randolph, in the 
 duel, 288. 
 
 Disciplinary sentence passed on the Bishop of Penn., 
 448. 
 
 Discountenancing the practice of dueling, Henry Clay, 
 707. 
 
 Discouragement of the cotton-gin invention by British 
 manufacturers, 156. 
 
 Discouraging Lafayette's American scheme. 273. 
 
 Discovery of Gold at Sutter's Mill, Cali- 
 fornia, 500-507. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 prodigious quantities of illuminating oil in the 
 
 depths of the earth, 698. 
 
 Discovery of the Inhalation of Ether as a 
 Preventive of Pain, 456-403. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Discretion the better part of valor, 252. 
 
 Discussions in a shop on a proposed invention, 465. 
 
 Disguise of Burr on his flight, 209. 
 
 Dismay in the Mexican capital at Scott's approach, 491. 
 
 — of the brute creation during the •' Dark Day," 89. 
 Disaieniberment of the British realm by the separation 
 
 of the colonies, 120. 
 Union, inauguration of war for the, 764. 
 
 Dispatch from Commodore Perry, 234. 
 Gen. Washington announcing Cornwallis's sur- 
 render, 104. 
 
 Dispersion of Gov. Dorr's forces at Chepachet, 413. 
 
 Display by the U. S. Government at the centennial, 
 957. 
 
 Disruption of the polar ice-fields on the advent of the 
 sun, 535. 
 
 Dissolution ot the Union, the, petition for, 367. 
 
 Dissuading Pres. Jackson from extreme anli-nuUifica- 
 tion measures, 324. 
 
 Distillers, Penn. whiskey, defiance of the U. S. tax col- 
 lectors by, 162. 
 
 Distinct and leisurely view of the sea-serpent, 578. 
 
 Distributing the Jamestown's cargo, 485. 
 
 District of Columbia, corner ttoue of, 170. 
 
 Disunion banners raised all over the South, 764. 
 
 — sternly rebuked by Pres. Jackson, 321. 
 Doctor Burdell found dead by his office-boy, 026. 
 Doing honor to the memory of Bishop Onderdonk, 455. 
 Dom Pedro, emperor of Brazil, at the centennial, 952. 
 Dome of the crystal palace, its unrivaled beauty, 003. 
 
 N. Y. Merchants' Exchange, its fall in the great 
 
 fire, 355. 
 Doniphan's march of five thousand miles, 488. 
 " Don't give up the ship," Perry's motto on Lake Erie, 
 
 234. 
 " Don't know when they are whipped! " 871. 
 '• Don't shoot me ! " — last words of Key, 692. 
 '•Don't tread on me!"— motto on first American naval 
 
 flag, 82. 
 Dorr, Thomas W., leader of the rebellion in Rhode 
 
 Island, 408. 
 Double execution of criminals in San Francisco, 554. 
 
 — ironing the mutineers, 417. 
 
 — sweep of the comet's tail, 425. 
 Doubleday, Gen., in the battle of Antietam, 799. 
 Downfall of our nation predicted by foreign states- 
 men, 8. 
 
 Downie, Captain, his command of the British navy on 
 
 Lake Champlain, 251. 
 Doxology at Fort Sumter, singing the, 886. 
 Drafting the Declaration of Independence, 295. 
 
 emancipation pioclamation, Pres. Lincoln, 809. 
 
 Dramatic interview between Marshall, the gold-finder, 
 
 and Sutter, his employer, 504. 
 Dramatis personse presented in this volume, variety 
 
 of, 13. 
 Drawing his lines about the enemy, Sherman, 869. 
 Dream of Pres. Lincoln preceding battles, 888. 
 Dress of Daniel Webster on state occasions, 302. 
 
 — worn by Washington at his inauguration, 144. 
 Drink of grog, a, stipulated for in Washington's hand- 
 writing, 397. 
 
 Drinking each other's health, Webster and Hayne, 305. 
 
 Driving the enemy en manse, 799. 
 last spike on the Pacific railroad, 911. 
 
 Dropping of a bomb in money circles, 645. 
 
 Drowning preferred to death by burning, 675. 
 
 Dublin, celebration of the American centennial at, 
 965. 
 
 Duel between Henry Clay, Secret.^ry of State, 
 and John Randolph, U. S. Senator from Vir- 
 ginia, 282-290. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
9S0 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Duel between Cilley and Graves, 712. 
 
 Senator Brodeiick and Judge Terry, 707. 
 
 Col. Burr and Uen. HiitniUon, IK'J. 
 
 Dupes, Mormon, from all piuts at tUe world, 312. 
 
 Duration of the tutal solar eclipse, 198. 
 
 Dutch method of dealing with Japan, 5912. 
 
 Dwight, President Timothy, his prediction concerning 
 
 Calhoun, 324. 
 Dying declaration of an accused bishop, 448. 
 
 — in his country's capitol, John Quiucy Adams, 372. 
 
 — message of the assassin Booth to his mother, 896. 
 
 — within hearing, but hopeless of succor, 724. 
 
 — words of John Adams, 295. 
 
 E. 
 
 Each moment an hour— waiting for the jury to come in, 
 
 694. 
 Eager forthe march to the North, Lee's army, 826. 
 Earle, A. B., the revival preacher, 057. 
 Early days of telegraphing. 352. 
 
 — predictions concerning ocean telegraphy, 899. 
 Earthquake phenomena at sea, 220. 
 
 — s in the United States, 218. 
 Easton, Pa., college at, named in honor of Lafayette, 
 
 281. 
 Easy basis of the first temperance society, 393. 
 Ebb of his vital spirit, Pres. Lincoln's, 892. 
 Ecclesiastical coincidences of a remarkable character, 
 
 449. 
 
 — government of the Mormon sect, 309. 
 
 Eclat gained by America in the great international 
 regatta, 558. 
 
 — of the great World's Fair, 600. 
 national peace jubilee, 921. 
 
 Eclipse of the sun, total, at mid-day, 196. 
 
 Edmonds and Dexter, their investigations of " spirit " 
 phenomena, 477. 
 
 Edwards, Pres. Jonathan, grandfather of Aaron Burr, 
 190. 
 
 Efficiency of Jackson's defensive fireparations at New 
 Orleans, 258. 
 
 Efforts by firemen to save the N. Y. Merchants' Ex- 
 change, 355. 
 
 — to change the Japnnese restrictive policy, 597. 
 save Andre's life, 102. 
 
 Egypt's contribution to the centennial, 955. 
 
 Eight hundred buildings burned in the great fire, 936. 
 
 — thousand horse-power of the Great Eastern, 746. 
 machines moved by one engine, 954. 
 
 Eighteen million dollars, loss of, in the N. Y. fire, 356. 
 
 — thousand buildings destroyed by the fi.re in Chicago, 
 929. 
 
 — yachts at the international regatta, 561. 
 
 pounder, an, crosses Burgoyne's table, while he is in 
 
 council, 78. 
 Eighth of January, the, at New Orleans, 260. 
 Eighty-five million dollars' value lost in the Boston fire, 
 
 936. 
 one out of eighty-four games w6n by Morphy at the 
 
 Chess Congress, GG7. 
 Edition over the verdict in the Sickles case, 695. 
 Elbowing her way to the bank counter, G49. 
 Eldest son of Queen Victoria visiting the U. S.,757. 
 Election and Ixauguiiation, First, of a Pbesi- 
 
 dent of the united states, 139-145. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Electric experiments, Franklin's, 346. 
 
 — telegraph, invention of the, 345. 
 Electricity aiding musical performances, 918. 
 
 Elegant appearance of 'Washington at his inauguration, 
 
 144. 
 Eleven days' contest, single-handed, in congress, J. Q. 
 Adams's, 370. 
 — terrible rounds in a twenty-two minutes prize-fight, 
 
 08 i. 
 Emanation of the remarkable meteoric shower from 
 
 one point, 331. 
 Emancipation of the slaves proclaimed by Pres. Lin- 
 coln, 8U7. 
 Embassy in ISCO from the Empire of Japan, 732, 
 Embalming Pres. Lincoln's body, 893. 
 Embarkation of the polar expedition, 387. 
 Embellishment of this volume, profuse and costly, 14. 
 Emblematic decorations at the Boston peace jubilee, 
 
 beauty of, 916. 
 Embodiment of various perfections in the great Boston 
 
 organ, 847. 
 Emigrants pouring into the oil regions, 703. 
 Emperor and president side by side at the centennial, 
 
 952. 
 Emphatic denial of guilt by Bishop Onderdonk, 452. 
 Empire at the south-west, contemplated by Burr, 
 204. 
 
 — s of the past, greatness of our republic compared with 
 the, 8. 
 Employment of the Great Eastern for conveying the 
 
 ocean telegraph cable, 901. 
 Emulation in international exhibitions, 600. 
 Enchanting record of adventure in the far north-west, 
 
 404, 
 Enchantment of Jenny Lind's voice. 548. 
 Encomium upon Massachusetts by Mr. Webster, 301. 
 Encompassed for months by Grant's army, the confed- 
 erate capital, 877. 
 Encores and showers of bouquets at Jenny Lind's con- 
 certs, 546. 
 End of Tecumseh, the famous Indian chief, 241. 
 
 the world looked for, May 19, 1780, 89. 
 
 Energetic course of Washington in suppressing Shays'3 
 
 rebellion, 127. 
 Enfranchisement added to freedom, 816. 
 Engagements with the whiskey insurgents in Penn., 
 
 163. 
 Engine-house at Harper's Ferry, occupation of the, by 
 
 John Brown, 717; stormed by the U. S. troops, 718. 
 Engineering feats involved in the Pacific railway con- 
 struction, 910. 
 Engines sent from seven States during the Chicago fire, 
 
 927. 
 England refuses to harbor Aaron Burr, 210. 
 English opinion of the capture of the Guerriere, 225. 
 — soldiers eating dinner at the White House, 248. 
 Engulfing of hundreds of souls in a sudden and watery 
 
 grave, 009. 
 Enshrinement of the great Boston organ in a case, 
 
 847. 
 Entering the city of Vicksburg, Union troops, 823. 
 Entertaining the Japanese officials, 598. 
 Entire impartiality, religious and political, of this vol- 
 ume, 13. 
 Entrance of the American army into the Mexican capi- 
 tal, 493. 
 
 British army into Washington, 246. 
 
 Epidemics, eras of, in America, 516. 
 Equal to the destitdes of the moment, 300. 
 EiiEirrioN AND Inauguration of the Great Or- 
 gan IN THE Boston Music Hall, 844-850. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
 
 Event.) 
 Ericsson's construction of the world- renowned Monitor, 
 
 7i)3. 
 Erring, but forgiven and redeemed, 696. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 981 
 
 Escaping from chamber-windows during the gale and 
 flood, UtiG. 
 
 — the just penalties of crime, 633. 
 p:spy. the " storm king," 348. 
 
 Kspying tlie gun-boat's signal, Sherman's joy on, 874. 
 Ksquiniaux, Dr. Hayes dealing with the, 540. 
 E.stablisliment of the Kepublic on a permanent founda- 
 tion, 137. 
 Eternal snows of the Sierra Nevada, 405. 
 European admiration of General Washington, 179. 
 
 — war veterans selected for operations in America, 
 2(53. 
 
 Evarts, W. M., orator at the Philadelphia celebration, 
 
 9(i(). 
 Es'ents in our first century, great and memorable, 10. 
 Everett, Edward, his opinion of Webster's speech, 
 
 302. 
 Every adversary vanquished by Morphy, 667. 
 
 — British vessel captured on Lake Erie, 239. 
 
 — eye on " the Yankee," 5t>0. 
 " Every man for himself," 615. 
 
 — officer true to his colors, 418. 
 
 Evidence, pro and co7i, in the Onderdonk case, 454. 
 — s of awful convulsions in the Rocky Mountains, 
 404. 
 
 " Exactly the correct thing to do," Japanese idea of, 
 738. 
 
 Examination of the Fejee group by scientific voyagers, 
 391. 
 
 Whitney's cotton-gin invention by southern plant- 
 ers, 156. 
 
 Example of Gen. Taylor in favor of temperance, 401. 
 
 Exasperation of the Canadians by Benedict Arnold, 
 97 
 
 — produced by the Mormons at the West, 311. 
 Exceptional distinction conferred on Lafayette and Kos- 
 suth, 589. 
 
 Exchange of compliments between the Queen of England 
 
 and John Adams, 124. 
 Exclamation of gratitude, Washington's, on receiving 
 
 news of Burgoyne's capture, 79. 
 
 Pres. Jackson on being fired at, 338. 
 
 Mrs. Sickles on being discovered in her guilt, 
 
 691. 
 
 the Indians on viewing the comet, 425. 
 
 Exclusion of all dry topics from this volume, 11. 
 Excursion of discovery to the Cordilleras, 389. 
 Execution of one of Burgoyne's spies, 78. 
 Executive mansion at Washington, first occupied by 
 
 Pres. Adams. 170. 
 Exemption of Mr. Ogden's house in the midst of the 
 
 Chicago fire, 930. 
 Exeter Hall, London, Beecher's defense of his country 
 
 in, 839. 
 Exhaustless yield of petroleum, 703. 
 Exhibiting the original Declaration of Independence, 
 
 July 4, 187(5, 967. 
 Exhibition ok the Ixdustuy of All Nations, in 
 
 New York. GOO-607. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Exhibition of auroral wonders, unparalleled, 181. 
 Exhilarating contents of this volume. 12. 
 Exigency that caused the proclamation of emancipation, 
 
 807. 
 Exordium oi Webster's speech, 300. 
 Expected Destruction of the world, 431-438. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Expectations of short lifo, Washington's, 175. 
 Expedition to the Auctic Seas, 5.33-540. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 E.XPEDITION TO THE RiVER JORDAN AND DEAD BEA, 
 
 491-499. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Expedition to the South Pole, 386-392. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Experience vs. examples, Gen. Sherman's opinion of, 
 
 869. 
 Experiences crowded into one awful hour, 613. 
 Experiments by Com. Stockton with his great gun, 
 
 446. 
 
 — during the "Dark Day," 94. 
 
 Explanation by Mr. Beecher of his relations with Mrs. 
 Tilton, 945. 
 
 — demanded by Clay from Randolph, 283. 
 
 — of the "spiritual" manifestations, 475. 
 Exploring Expedition to the South Pole, under 
 
 Commander Wilkes, U. S. N., 386-392. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Explosive sounds accompanying the meteoric shower, 
 332. 
 
 Exportation of petroleum in immense quantities, 703. 
 
 Expulsion of John Quincy Adams from congress, the 
 threatened, 365. 
 
 Expunging resolution, the, passage of, in the U. S. sen- 
 ate, 378. 
 
 Exquisite mechanism of the Atlantic telegraph cable, 
 904. 
 
 Exquisitely constructed telescopes for the total solar 
 eclipse, 201. 
 
 Extending a welcome to Kossuth on the floor of congress, 
 589. 
 
 Extension of popular suffrage sought for in Rhode Isl- 
 and, 408. 
 
 Extensive and Calamitous Earthquake at the 
 West, 218-224. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Extraordinary Combat between the Iron-Clads 
 Merkimac and Monitor, in Hampton Roads, 
 789-797. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Extreme anxiety of Washington at Ynrktnwn, 107. 
 
 Extricating the buried from the Pemberton Mills ruins, 
 724. 
 
 Exultation at the news of the Declaration of Independ- 
 ence, 67. 
 
 — over the completion of the Pacific railroad, 913. 
 Eyes of the whole nation riveted on Fort Sumter, 765. 
 
 F. 
 
 Fabulous prices in the early history of California, 
 
 507. 
 Facades of granite in Boston, curious effect of the fire 
 
 on, 935. 
 Face to face at Gettysburg, the two contending armies, 
 827. 
 
 scene between Generals Grant and Lee, 882. 
 
 Facing the audience at the tragical moment, Bouth, 
 
 890. 
 Fact in history cited by Kossuth, 589. 
 Failure of Cornwallis to reach Gen. Clinton, 106. 
 
 Lawrence's pistol-shot to kill Pres. Jackson, 
 
 338. 
 
 the oldest and wealthiest houses in the great 
 
 piinio, 650. 
 potato crop in Ireland. 
 
982 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Fair Columbia's bounties to the sufferers in Ireland, 428. 
 
 — play and a fair beat, 559. 
 
 — , ruined, penitent, forgiven, dead, 697. 
 Fall of Richmond, Va., the Confederate Capi- 
 tal, 877-886. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Fall of the Great Pembertox Mills in Law- 
 rence, Mass., 723-731. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Fall of Hamilton, in his duel with Burr, 190. 
 Falls of Delaware, proposed establishment of the r ation- 
 al capital at, 168. 
 
 — — Kiagara, scene at during the meteoric shower, 
 330. 
 
 Fame and fortune to an inventor, 351. 
 
 Familiarity with chess-moves in his tenth year, Mor- 
 
 phy's, G66. 
 Families innumerable desolated by the Central America 
 
 disaster, 636. 
 Famous Whiskey Insurrection in Pennsylvania, 
 
 160-166. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first jiage of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Fantastic mountain scenery, as viewed by Wilkes's party, 
 
 388. 
 Farewell between Benedict Arnold and his wife, 
 
 101. 
 
 — to their leader, Lee's officers teiidering their, 
 883. 
 
 Famsworth, Gen., at Bull Run, 788. 
 
 Farragut, Admiral, his achievements at New Orleans 
 and Mobile, 800. 
 
 Fascinating personal and professional history of Jenny 
 Lind, 541. 
 
 Fastening ships Serapis and Bon Homme Richard to- 
 gether in combat, 86. 
 
 Fasting and prayer, day appointed for by the president, 
 on account of the pestilence, 516. 
 
 Fatal break in Lee's lines at Richmond, 884. 
 
 Fatal Duel between Col. Burr and Gen. Alex- 
 ander Hamilton, 189-195. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Fatal Duel between Hon. D. C. Broderick and 
 Hon. D. S. Terry, 707-712. 
 
 ( For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Fatal misapprehension of one word, 568. 
 
 — mistake of a Chicago policeman, 925. 
 Fate of the republic hanging on the hour, 801. 
 Father Mathew's visit to America, 398. 
 
 " Father of his country," getting sight of the, 143. 
 
 — of the republic, tribute to the, 296. 
 Fault in the law of nations, 851. 
 
 Favorable personal impression made by Cornwallis, 
 110. 
 
 Favorite ship of the nation, the Constitution, 225. 
 
 Fearful momentum of the comet's approach to the earth, 
 429. 
 
 Feast of inspiring harmonies at the Boston Peace Jubi- 
 lee, 919. 
 
 Feat of Burnside's corps at Antietam, 802. 
 
 Federal Constitution, Formation and Adoption 
 OF, 132-138. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Federalists, Hamilton the champion of the, 191. 
 
 Feejee reception of explorers, 391. 
 
 Feelings experienced while drowning, 611. 
 
 Feints successfully made by Sherman on his march to 
 the sea, 871. 
 
 Female heroism at the Pemberton Mills tragedy, 727 
 
 Ferry to China by way of the Pacific railroad, 914. 
 
 Festival of music in Boston in honor of the return of 
 peace, 915. 
 
 Field, Cyrus W., his indomitable labors in ocean tele- 
 graphy, 906. 
 
 — of battle at Torktown, revisited by Lafayette, 277. 
 "— of honor" at Bladensburg. 288. 
 
 Fields of rainbow hues during the night of Nov. 14, 1837, 
 
 383. 
 Fiery commotion of the whole firmament for hours, 
 
 329. 
 Fifteen generals and 37,000 prisoners taken at Vicks- 
 
 burg, 823. 
 
 — ghastly stabs on Dr. Burdell's body, 628. 
 Fiftieth Anniversary and Celebration of the 
 
 Independence of the Republic, 291-296. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Fillibustering expeditions by General Walker, 748. 
 
 Filling the gap on the Pacific railroad divisions, 910. 
 
 Fillmore, President, his oration on the capitol exten- 
 sion, 173. 
 
 Final amendments to the Federal Constitution, in the 
 convention at Phila., 137. 
 
 — day, supposed arrival of the, 330. 
 Financial crisis throughout the country, 644. 
 
 — embarrassment of the country after the revolutionary 
 war, 133. 
 
 — panic aggravated by the Central America disaster, 
 636. 
 
 Finney, Charles G., the revival preacher, 657. 
 Fire and ruin in Chicago, thirty hours of wide-spread, 
 929. 
 
 — in New York City, terrible, 353. 
 
 proof buildings in Chicago instantly swept away by 
 
 the fire, 927. 
 Firemen called out daring the brilliant aurora borealis, 
 380. 
 
 — 's victory at last over the great fire, 933. 
 Fire-works, resemblance of the great meteoric shower to, 
 
 330. 
 Firmament, the whole, in fiery commotion for hours, 
 
 329. 
 First American Naval Victory, 81-87. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 " First blood " at the prize-fight, cheering over the, 
 685. 
 
 — attempt to bore for oil, 699. 
 
 — crossing the Atlantic by steam, 741. 
 
 — dispatch over the telegraph wires, 350. 
 
 — entrance of the Prince of Wales in American waters, 
 7.57. 
 
 — foreign scientific enterprise undertaken by the U. 
 S. government, 386. 
 
 — important engagement in the great civil war, 781. 
 
 — military act in the long and bloody civil war, 764. 
 First Organized Rebellion in the United 
 
 States (1786), 125-131. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
 
 Event.) 
 First royal army ever surrendered to Americans, 72. 
 
 — steam-boat voyage on American waters, 214. 
 Fitzpatrick's account of the siege of Vicksburg. 819. 
 Five great speeches in Europe for his country's cause, 
 
 Rev. H. W Beecher's, 836. 
 
 — thousand persons present at Jenny Lind's first con- 
 cert, 546. 
 
 Flag of a British squadron struck for the first time to 
 
 Americans, 234. 
 Flagrant criminal intimacy of Mrs. Sickles and Mr. Key, 
 
 690. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 983 
 
 Flag-sbip Hartford fighting the monster ram Tennessee, 
 863. 
 
 — reception, tlie Japanese at a, 5!)8. 
 
 Flanie-like piotiiberances of the sun during the eclipse, 
 
 ■joo. 
 Flaini\i of fire leaping up the Austria's shrouds, 676. 
 Flat-boats, building of, for Burr's expedition, 205. 
 Fleet buili by Com. Perry, to meet the Biitish, 235. 
 
 — of naval vessels sent to the B;jbary States, 
 182. 
 
 Flight of Aaron Burr, 209. 
 
 Gov Dorr to Connecticut, 413. 
 
 Jeff Davis from Kichmond, 884. 
 
 Flinging away their arms and stores at Bull Run, 785. 
 Flirtation with commissioner Mason in Loudon, British, 
 
 811. 
 Floating in solitude on the bosom of the oceati, 638. 
 Flood-gates of bankruptcy opened upon the land, 
 
 646. 
 Florida, Georgia and Sumter, the confederate cruisers, 
 
 851. 
 
 — Indians, war with, 147. 
 
 Flowers and applause in the Brooklyn court-room, 
 &46. 
 
 Fluent and melodious elocution of Senator Hayne, 
 299. 
 
 Fondling of horses by Mr. Rarey that no one else could 
 approach, 775. 
 
 Food for the land of want and woe, 481. 
 
 Foot, Senator, his celebrated resolution in congress, 
 298. 
 
 Foote, Admiral A. H., his naval operations, 861. 
 
 Forbes's mission of humanity to Ireland, 483. 
 
 Force of Shays's rebellion in Massachusetts, 128. 
 
 Forcing Hamilton into a duel, 191. 
 
 Ford's theater, Washington, assassination of Pres. Lin- 
 coln in, 887. 
 
 Forensic power displayed by Daniel Webster, 299. 
 
 — triumph of Mr. Beecher in Liverpool, 837. 
 Forest of oil-well derricks, 700. 
 
 — s crushed by the western earthquake, 221. 
 — s cut clean down by the awful Sept. gale, 270. 
 Formal opening of the centennial exposition, 960. 
 
 — recognition of the national capital, 171. 
 
 FOR.^IATIOX AND ADOPTION OF THE FEDERAL CON- 
 STITUTION. 132-138. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Former friendship between Forrest and Macready, 
 
 509. 
 Forrest, Edwin, the American tragedian, bis diiliculties 
 
 ■with Macready. 509. 
 Forsaken by her crew, the ill-fated steamer Arctic, 
 
 615. 
 Fort Fisher, Admiral Porter's crowning victory at, 
 
 867 
 
 — McAllister, fall of, 875. 
 
 — Moultrie in the operations at Charleston, 766. 
 
 — Sumter besieged and captured, 768. 
 
 — s Montgomery and Clinton captured by the British, 
 
 77. 
 Fortifications at Vicksburg, 817. 
 Foriitude and serenity of Washington in his last hours, 
 
 177. 
 Fortuitous incident, leading to a great discovery, 
 
 465. 
 Fortunes suddenly acquired In the oil regions, 704. 
 
 — swept away in a day, 645. 
 
 Forty confederate colors taken at Antietam, 804. 
 
 — millions of people in 1876, 951. 
 
 — thousand persons assembled in Wall street, 648. 
 
 - — one confederate standards taken at Gettysburg. 
 834. 
 
 Foundering of the Steamek Central America, 
 IN A Gale off Cai-e Hatteras, 635-643. 
 
 (For topical and anatytical details, sec first paye of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Founding and Establishment of the National 
 
 Capital, 167-173. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Erent.) 
 Fountains of the higher life opened up in the revival 
 
 movement, 661. 
 Four acres of people listening to Parepa-Rosa, 919. 
 
 — anxious days, 636. 
 
 — hours' tight between the monster Merrimac and the 
 little Monitor. 795. 
 
 — luiles and fourteen hours of battle and slaughter, 
 801. 
 
 — persons present at Mr. Moody's first meeting, 663. 
 Fourteen acies of machinery at the centennial, 951. 
 
 — square feet of children's bodies writhing in horror, 
 508. 
 
 Fox, the Misses, the original disclosers of "spiritual- 
 ism," 473. 
 
 Frame of the Boston organ, unrivaled beauty of the, 
 848. 
 
 Franklin, Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 783. 
 , his movements on the field of battle, 801. 
 
 Franklin's impressive appeal for pacification, 137. 
 
 Frantic conduct of the Austria's passengers, 674. 
 
 Fraser, Gen., his fatal fidelity to duty, 76. 
 
 Fraternization of all sections, July 4, 1876, 968. 
 
 Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, gift from to Gen- 
 eral Washington, 179. 
 
 Free soil and free labor, plea for, 617. 
 
 Freedmen's joy at the proclamation of emancipation, 
 814. 
 
 Fremont's Heroic Expedition to the North- 
 west, 402-407. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 French passenger on board the Guerriere, 231. 
 
 — physicians' opinions of Senator Sumner's case, 
 624. 
 
 — tribute to the character of the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence, 70. 
 
 Friendliness of French and British for the Alabama, 
 
 856. 
 Friendly letter from Pres. Fillmore to the Emperor of 
 
 Japan, 595. 
 s between Pres. Buchanan and Queen Victoria, 
 
 756. 
 
 — toasts given by Gen. Washington and Cornwallis at 
 ,the dinner-table, 110. 
 
 Frigate Philadelphia, her capture by the pirates, 185; 
 burned by Com. Decatur, 186. 
 
 Frightful Catastrophe in a New York Five- 
 Story Public School-House Containing 1,800 Pu- 
 pils, 567-.')74. 
 
 (For topical and analytical dcfails, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 From poverty to his millions, 406. 
 
 — State to State in unbroken triumph, Sherman's 
 inarch, 875. 
 
 — the gutter to the rostrum, 397. 
 
 height of national i)rosperity to universal bank- 
 ruptcy, 650. 
 
 prize-ring to the halls of congress, 688. 
 
 Frowning mitsses of soldiers before Antietam, 799. 
 " Frozen music," the wondrous architecture of the Bos- 
 ton organ defined as, 848. 
 Fruits of Perry's victory on Lake Erie, 239. 
 Frustrating of Burr's conspiracy, 206. 
 FMll-orbe<l completeness of our century, 15. 
 Fulton-street prayer-meeting. New York, 655. 
 
084 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Fulton's Triumphant Application of Steam to 
 
 Navigation, 212-217. 
 ^For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event. ) 
 Funeral cortege through fifteen States, Pres. Lincoln's, 
 
 893. 
 
 — pile, the immense Pemberton Mills', 726. 
 Furious horses made tractable by Mr. Rarey, 773. 
 
 — pursuit by Pres. Jackson of his assassin, 338. 
 
 — rush of 1,800 little ones, 568. 
 
 Fury of the tempest in which the Central America was 
 lost, 636. 
 
 — , wide-spread and unprecedented, of the Sept. gale, 
 270. 
 
 G. 
 
 " Gag Rule," so-called, the, in congress, 363. 
 
 Gala day for ruffians .and blacklegs, f84. 
 
 on the Princeton changed to one of wailing and 
 
 death, 439. 
 
 Gale, the ever-memorable September in New England, 
 264; after the gale, 271. 
 
 Gallows erected at midnight by the vigilance committee, 
 551. 
 — , Gibbs's address from the, 319. 
 
 Games of chess, against fifty players, won by Mr. Mor- 
 phy, 668. 
 
 Gareia's discouraging opinion of Jenny Lind's voice, 
 542. 
 
 Gardner, the prize-fighter, in the revival, 660. 
 
 Garrett's bam. Booth discovered in, 895. 
 
 Garrison, W. L., at Fort Sumter, 885. 
 
 Gas and oil fires in the petroleum regions, 702. 
 
 works in Chicago, explosion of during the fire, 
 
 927. 
 
 Gates's, Gen., Captdee of Buegoyne's Splenbid 
 Army, 72-80. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Gathering of whiskey insurrectionists at Pittsburg, 
 Penn., 161. 
 
 Gavel of the confederate congress, 889. 
 
 Gay streamers and waving flags all over the land, 960. 
 
 '•Guneral Arnold has gone to the enemy," — Washing- 
 ton's announcement of the crime, 102. 
 
 General Jackson's Terrible Rout and Slaugh- 
 ter of the British Army, at New Orleans, 257- 
 263. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 — Pakenham leading his men after he was shot, 261. 
 
 — Ross commands the British army against Wasliing- 
 ton City. 242. 
 
 General Scott in the Halls op the Montezumas, 
 
 AS THE Conqueror of Mexico, 487-493. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 General Walker's Fillibusterino Expeditions 
 
 to Sonora, Nicaragua, and Honduras 748-7.56. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Generalship of Sheridan unsurpassed, 878. 
 Genial anecdote and pleasing memorabilia in this vol- 
 ume, 11. 
 Genii of applause and enthusiasm, the, aroused by John 
 
 Quincy Adams, 371. 
 Genius as a commander exhibited by Gen. Sherman, 
 868. 
 
 — , poor reward of, in Eli Whitney's case, 159. 
 Genurtexioiis practiced l)y the Japanese officials on ap- 
 proaching the President, 736. 
 
 Geographical and nautical results of the South Pole ex- 
 pedition, 386. 
 
 — magnitude of our republic, 8. 
 
 Geological characteristics of the petroleum regions, 705. 
 Germantown, batile of, 72. 
 
 Germany's congratulations to the republic on its centen- 
 nial anniversary, 966. 
 Getting the hot-water pipes ready, 742. 
 Gettysburg, Three Days' Battle at, 826-835 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Ghastly horror of the Somers mutiny, 415. 
 Gibbons's, Mr., explanation of the great i>anic, 651. 
 Gibbs, the pirate, his career, capture and execution, 314. 
 Gift presented by congress to Lafayette, 277. 
 Gigantic material enterprises of the United States, 9. 
 
 — preparations for war by the North and South, 771. 
 Gilmore, P. S., his vast musical enterprise, 915. 
 "Gimblet religion" of the savages, account of the, 389. 
 Girdle of iron around the loins of the continent, 907. 
 
 " Give it to 'em! "—Commodore Hull's final order to his 
 
 crew, 233. 
 Giving the last kisses on board the fated Austria, 676. 
 word in the duel, 710. 
 
 — up the race in despair, 564. 
 
 Glacier of Humboldt visited by Dr. Kane, 536. 
 Glasgow and Edinburgh, Union speeches by Mr. Beecher 
 
 at, 841. 
 Glittering corona around the moon during the solar 
 
 eclipse, 197. 
 Gloom of the loyal states after the Bull Run defeat, 788. 
 Gloomy auspices of the revolutionary campaign in 1777, 
 
 72. 
 Glory of the American Century, 7. 
 Gloucester Bay, sea-serpent seen at, 577. 
 Glowing beauty of the great meteoric shower, 329. 
 
 — magnificence of the firmament, Nov. 13, 1837, 382. 
 
 " God Save the Queen," played at the Prince of Wales's 
 
 visit, 761. 
 Goddard, Arabella, her marvelous musical powers, 923. 
 Going down with her flag still flying, the Cumberland, 
 
 791. 
 
 — up the harbor of Cork, U. S. Ship Jamestown, 483. 
 Gold, first discovery of, in California, 500. 
 
 — medal presented by congress to Gen. Gates, 80. 
 Golden age of American oratory, 297. 
 
 — Commonwealth of the American Union, 507. 
 
 — results of Whitney's cotton-gin invention, 158. 
 Goldsborough, Commodore, his opinion ot Farragut's 
 
 feat, 862. 
 Good Templars, gathering of, at the centennial, 955. 
 
 — work done by Washington at Yorktown, 107. 
 Gory deck of Gibbs's piratical craft, 317. 
 
 Goiigh, John B. , his oratory in behalf of temperance, 398. 
 
 Graham's eloquent plea for Bishop Onderdonk, 454. 
 
 Grain and cotton products, grangers' system of manag- 
 ing, 943. 
 
 Grand Army of the Republic, meeting of, at the centen- 
 nial, 955. 
 
 — dinner given by Washington to Cornwallis, 110. 
 Grand Embassy from the Empire of Japan, with 
 
 A Treaty of Peace and Commerce, 732-739. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Grand March of the Union Army, under Gen. 
 
 Sherman, through the South, 868-876. 
 (For topical and analytical details, .see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Grandeur of the centennial celebration, 960. 
 Granger movement, commencement of the, 938. 
 Granite warehouses in Boston destroyed like lead in the 
 
 great lire, 932. 
 Grant, General, bis siege and capture of Vicksburg, 817. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 985 
 
 Grappling with the monster Merrimac, the httle Moni- 
 tor, 703. 
 
 Giiive-yard scones at the height of the " plague " visita- 
 tion, 521. 
 
 Graves and Cilley, tlioir diiol, 283. 
 
 " Great Eastern," arrival and exhibition of the steam- 
 ship, 748. 
 
 Greatest conquest of intellectual over inanimate milter, 
 7l(i 
 
 Greatest Defeat and Victory of Amekican Arms 
 IX THE Indian Wars, 14U 152. 
 
 {Fur topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Greatest railroad route on the face of the earth, 914. 
 
 Greenland, explorers' experiences in, 535. 
 
 Greene's, Mrs., timely suggestion to Eli Whitney, 154. 
 
 Greeting Macready, the actor, with groans, hisses, and 
 missiles, 509. 
 
 — Scott's order with a quick-step, 490. 
 — s, Lafayette's, with old comrades, 280. 
 
 Grief at Alexander Hamilton's death, 195. 
 
 — in America at the news of Lafayette's death, 281. 
 Grim old Merrimac, Buchanan's, 8GG. 
 
 Grinnell expeditions to the Arctic seas, 533. 
 Grog for Jack before the battle. 866. 
 Growth of ocean steam transit, 742. 
 
 the order of grangers in five years, 939. 
 
 Gulfs and chasms spanned in constructing the Pacific 
 
 railroad, 909. 
 Gunnery of the Kearsarge compared with the Alabama's, 
 
 «56. 
 
 H. 
 
 Habits of Gen. Jackson in war, 260. 
 
 Hagerstown, Md.. Lee's troops' arrival at, on their north- 
 ward march, 826. 
 
 *' Hail Columbia," sung by Jenny Lind and Daniel Web- 
 ster, 545. 
 
 Hailing Morrissey as the pugilistic Champion of Amer- 
 ica, 686. 
 
 Hair-breadth escapes at the Pemberton Mills catastro- 
 phe, 726. 
 
 Half a month's earnings to hear Jenny Lind sing, 547. 
 
 century anniversary and celebration throughout the 
 
 country, 291. 
 
 — an hour with the terrible horse known as " Cruiser," 
 774. 
 
 Hall of the U. S. senate, appearance of, during Mr. 
 
 Webster's speech, 302. 
 Halo, or corona, during the solar eclipse, 200. 
 Halt made by Cornwallis, at Yorktown, 105. 
 Hamilton's fatal duel with Burr, 189. 
 
 — plan for locating the national capital, 169. 
 of government for the U. S., 136. 
 
 Hammer of pure silver employed in completing the 
 Pacific railroad, 912. 
 
 Hammond, E. P , the revival preacher, 657. 
 
 Hampton Koads, memorable combat in the, 793. 
 
 Hancock, John, his remarkable signature to the Declar- 
 ation of Independence. 71. 
 
 Hand-to-hand conflict, 831. 
 
 Handcuffs vs. champagne, 749. 
 
 Hanging of Spencer and his comrades, 422. 
 
 — the telegraph wires, 345. 
 
 "— together or separately," Franklin's remark to his 
 colleagues, 295. 
 Happy conversation between Prof. Morse and Miss 
 Ellsworth. 350. 
 
 — frame of mind during his last day, Pres. Lincoln's, 
 888. 
 
 — unconsciousness during surgical operations, 460, 
 
 Harmer's expedition against the Indians, failure of, 
 
 147. 
 Harmonies and wondrous beauty of the Boston organ, 
 
 817. 
 Harold, trial and execution of, for conspiracy, 898. 
 Harrison's defeat of 'J'eciniiseli, 152. 
 
 — victory of the Thames, 241. 
 
 Harrowing experiences of the Central America's pas- 
 sengers, 638. 
 
 Hartford and Tennessee, battle between the, 863;dis- 
 comtiture of the latter, 866. 
 
 Hartstene, Cnpt., sent to Dr. Kane's relief, 538. 
 
 Harvests reaped by outlaws in California, in its earlier 
 days, 550. 
 
 Hasty removal of the confederate archives from Kich- 
 imnd, 884. 
 
 Having a shot at the sea-serpent, 577. 
 
 Hawkins, the Baltimore temperance reformer, 395. 
 
 Hawley, Gen. J. li., head of the centennial exposition, 
 952. 
 
 Hayes, Dr. Isaac J., his heroic explorations in the Arc- 
 tic regions, 539. 
 
 Hayne, Robert Y., his great debate with Daniel Web- 
 ster, 297. 
 
 "He is gone; he is dead!" Pres. Lincoln's death an- 
 nounced by his physician, 892. 
 
 Head of the sea-serpent, remarkable appearance of the, 
 581. 
 
 Headlong descent of hundreds of children down the 
 school-house stairs, 568. 
 
 — velocity of navigation required on the Jordan, 495. 
 Healey's commemoration of the " Great Debate," 298. 
 Heart's Content, arrival of the Atlantic cable at, 904. 
 Heat of the falling meteors of Nov., 1833, 332. 
 Heaven-wide auroral radiance, 380. 
 
 Heavy cost of the Union triumph, 878. 
 
 Heenan, John C, his prize-fight with Morrissey, 681. 
 
 Hegira of women and children during the Chicago fire, 
 926. 
 
 Height of city stores preventing their preservation, 
 933. 
 
 Heintzelman's division, Gen., at Bull Run, 788. 
 
 Heir to the British throne, his tour in the United States, 
 758. 
 
 Help for Chicago poured forth from the whole land, 
 929. 
 
 Helping a brave man without pay, 246. 
 
 Helpless agony of hundreds of children, 568. 
 
 Henry, Patrick, his eloquent summons, 'We must fight! ' 
 66. 
 
 " Her name is not there ! "—reading the list of the dead, 
 729. 
 
 Herculean prowess of Morrissey and Heenan, the pugil- 
 ists, 684. 
 
 Herndon, Captain, his bravery in the hour of peril, 635. 
 
 Heroes of antiquity and Gen. Jackson, comparison be- 
 tween the, 258. 
 
 — quailing at the surgeon's knife, 456. 
 
 Hideous mutilation of the Pemberton Mills victims, 
 
 727. 
 Hiding himself from himself, Gibbs's attempts at, 319. 
 
 place, the assassin Booth's, 894. 
 
 " High Church " and " I^w Church," 455. 
 
 — social position of Dr. Parkman and Webster his 
 murderer, 523. 
 
 Highway from the gates of the East to sunset itself, 
 914. 
 
 Hippodrome meetings in New York, Moody and San- 
 key's, 6G4. 
 
 " His Wood was up! " 251. 
 
 — wits saved him, 805. 
 
 Historic actors as well as deeds described in this volume, 
 12. 
 
986 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Historic scene in the heart of America, wonderful, 
 910. 
 
 History illustrating itself by example, 10. 
 
 Hoarse roar of the flames in the Boston fire, 932. 
 
 Hoisting the first American naval flag, 82. 
 
 "Hold the Fort!" 661. 
 
 Holding the disputed giound, 803. 
 
 dying president's hand in his own. Senator Sum- 
 ner, 891. 
 
 hill at Antietam, Burnside's feat of, 801. 
 
 Holland acknowledges the independence of America, 
 71. 
 
 Holmes. Dr. O. W., his tribute to the wonders Oi etheriz- 
 ation, 458. 
 
 Holy land localities, American interest in the, 494. 
 
 Homicide of Hon. Philip Barton Key by Hon. 
 Daniel E. Sickles, M. C, in Washington, D. C, 
 689 697. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Honduras, fatal result of Walker's fillibustering expedi- 
 tion at, 753. 
 
 Honeymoon in another world, spending the, 520. 
 
 Hong Kong, China, via Chicago, 913. 
 
 Hood's fatal movement in favor of Sherman, 864. 
 
 Hooker leading the advance of the grand army, 798; is 
 shot and disabled, 798. 
 
 Hope of transferring the operations of the war to the 
 North, Gen. Lee's, 826. 
 
 Hopeless resistance by Lee to Grant's army, 881. 
 
 Horizontal movement of the San Francisco earthquake, 
 224. 
 
 Horological wonders of the electric telegraph cable, 
 905. 
 
 Horrible and Mysterious Murder of Dr. Bur- 
 dell, A Wealthy New York Dentist, 6.6-634. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
 Event.) 
 
 Horse-taming feats by Mr. Rarey of Ohio, 772. 
 
 Horseshoe Bend, battle with the Indians at, 152. 
 
 Horticultural exhibition at the centennial, 957. 
 
 Hospital scenes at Gettysburg, 829. 
 
 — use of etherization, 462. 
 Hospitalities, national, to Lafayette, 276. 
 Hostile meeting between Clay and Randolph, 285. 
 Hot and suffocating air during the Sept. gale, 268. 
 
 — chain, a, in a bucket of tar, 674. 
 
 — -blooded assailants of John Quincy Adams, 367. 
 Hotels, churches and theaters, in ashes, by the Chicago 
 
 fire, 925. 
 " Hounds," the organized society of, in California, 550. 
 How Miller became a Second Advent preacher, 433. 
 
 — Pres. Lincoln passed his last day, 888. 
 
 — spiritualism originated, 473. 
 
 — things appeared during the "Dark Day," 95. 
 
 — the fought at Bull Run, 782. 
 
 Howard, Gen., commanding in Sherman's army, 871. 
 
 Howe, Elias, Jr., his wonderful inventive genius, 464. 
 
 Hughes, Ball, his statue of Hamilton, 360. 
 
 Hull, Captain, his eager acceptance of Capt. Dacres's 
 challenge, 228. 
 
 Human enterprises, the grandest, 904. 
 
 Humanity and science, memorable co-operation of, 
 6:55. 
 
 Humboldt's tribute of admiration to American explor- 
 ers, 402. 
 
 Humiliation of King George in parliament, 121. 
 the Emperor of Morocco by America, 185. 
 
 Humor, good, of John Paul Jones, towards his enemy, 
 85. 
 
 Humorous side of the electric telegraph, 351. 
 
 — treat inont of his country's enemies in England, 
 BeeclK-i's. 841. 
 
 Hundreds of families in mourning for the early dead, 
 
 574. 
 
 millions' value lost in the Chicago fire, 929. 
 
 Hung near the spot of his birth, Prof. WeK-iter, 530. 
 Hungarian cause, Kossuth's advocacy of in America, 
 
 590. 
 Hunt, Walter, his prior invention of the sewing-machine, 
 
 467. 
 Hunter's division. Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 
 
 781. 
 Hunting excursions at the west by the Prince of Wales, 
 
 758. 
 " Hurrah for the flag! " shout of a Union sailor who had 
 
 lost both arms and legs, 791. 
 Hurrying through the streets with their ledgers, Boston 
 
 merchants during the fire, 933. 
 Husbands fleeing from wives during the epidemic, 
 
 517. 
 Hydesville, N. Y., singular and humble origin of the 
 
 spiritual knockings at, 472. 
 Hymn for the centennial inauguration by J. G. Whittier, 
 
 952. 
 Hypotheses of the Nov. meteoric shower, 333. 
 
 I. 
 
 "lam shot! "—Cilley's exclamation at the third fire, 
 713. 
 
 " I must have another shot! "—Graves's remark at the 
 duel, 712. 
 
 " 1 will never leave the ship! "—636. 
 
 Ice-bound continent, hitherto unknown, reached by the 
 U. S. explorers, 389. 
 
 Idolized in Washington society, Mrs. Sickles, 693. 
 
 " If the bridge is lost all is lost! " 803. 
 
 Ignoble origin of the great Chicago conflagration, 
 24. 
 
 Ill-starred career of pirate Gibbs, 316. 
 
 Illegality of their acts acknowledged by the vigilance 
 committee, 557. 
 
 Illustrious men in the convention for framing the Fed- 
 eral Constitution, 133. 
 
 — virtues of Gen. Washington, tributes to the, 179. 
 Imbedded in ice for successive months, 534. 
 Imitation among children in a scene of panic, 571. 
 Immediate cause of the great religious revival, 654. 
 Immortality guaranteed to Rarey in England if success- 
 ful in taming "Cruiser," 773. 
 
 Impatience of the Constitution's crew to commence the 
 fight, 232. 
 North for a movement on Richmond, 780. 
 
 Imperishable honors crowning Sherman's name, 868. 
 
 Impetuous desire to advance on the North, Lee's troops', 
 826. 
 
 Impetuosity of Wayne's troops, 151. 
 
 Impetus given to commerce by the California gold dis- 
 coveries, 507. 
 
 Important question and answer in Prof. Morse's career, 
 346. 
 
 Imposing coup d'osil at the White House, 445. 
 
 — magnificence of Kossuth's reception in the U. S., 
 587. 
 
 Imposition of $300 fine on Mr. Brooks for his assault on 
 Senator Sumner, 623. 
 
 Impostors in the religious world, 4.36. 
 
 Im potency of human effort in staying the Chicago fire, 
 92r>. 
 
 Impressions produced by the Boston musical celebra- 
 tion, 918 
 on Washington by Lafayette "74. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 987 
 
 [mpressive appearance of Washington on resigning his 
 commission as coiiimamier-iii-cliief, 117. 
 
 Imprisonment of Jeft'uisoii Davis in Fortress Monroe, 
 884. 
 
 Impromptu prayer-meetings during the meteoric show- 
 er, 3M. 
 
 Improprieties with Mrs. Tilton denied by Mr. Beecher, 
 949. 
 
 Improvements in telegraphing made by different invent- 
 ors, 351. 
 
 In his coffin, the seducer, 694. 
 
 — the hottest and thicliesl of the fight, 489. 
 Inappreciable but momentous point of time, 444, 
 Inauguration of Washington, as first president of the 
 
 U. S., i:!9. 
 Incalculable wealth of our natiiral resources, 9. 
 Incidents of the total solar eclipse. 203. 
 Incomparable dignity and grace of Kossuth, 590. 
 
 — organ erected in Boston music hall, 844. 
 Incredulity excited by Fulton's attempts at steam-nav- 
 igation, 213. 
 
 Indebtedness to French aid at Yorktown, Washington's 
 
 acknowledgment of, 110. 
 " Independence Forever," John Adams's toast for the 
 
 nation's half-centennial, 295. 
 
 — of the Republic, fiftieth anniversary and celebra- 
 tion of, 291. 
 
 Indescribable joy at the North over the Gettysburg vic- 
 tory, 834. 
 
 — rapidity and force of the wind during the September 
 gale, 265. 
 
 " Indestructible" storehouses crumble like chalk in the 
 great Boston fire, 932. 
 
 Indian defeat, 151 ; and victory, 148. 
 
 Indications of the approach of the San Francisco earth- 
 quake, 224. 
 
 Indictments against the assassination conspirators, 
 897. 
 
 Indigence of Eli Whitney's early condition, 154. 
 
 Indignation of Washington at the proposal to make him 
 
 king, 115. 
 ^, public, at Hamilton's fate, 195. 
 
 Individual instances of bravery at Gettysburg, 834. 
 
 — losses, immense, in the great N. Y. fire, 357. 
 
 — vs associated efforts, grangers' view of, 943. 
 Industry at the South, impetus given to, by the cotton- 
 gin, 159. 
 
 — of All Nations, exhibition of, at London— grand 
 finale, 558. 
 
 ineffectual resistance to Brooks attempted by Sumner, 
 
 619. 
 Inexhaustible deposits of precious metal in California, 
 
 506. 
 
 Inexplicable character of the manifestations known as 
 " spiritual," 475. 
 
 Infamy of Admiral Cockburn at Washington, 247. 
 
 Inglorious flight at Rivas, 749. 
 
 Inhalation of ether, discovery of, as a preventive of pain, 
 456 
 
 Initiating the grangers' organization, 939. 
 
 Initiation of a plan of government for the U. S., 133. 
 
 Inscription of the Penn. Bible Society at the centen- 
 nial, 958. 
 
 .— on the comer-stone of the national capitol, 171; 
 and on the corner-stone of the extension, 173. 
 Liberty Bell, in Independence Hall, 67. 
 
 Inserting the most important word in the emancipation 
 proclamation, 809. 
 
 Inspecting the horrors of the Irish famine, 485. 
 
 Inspection of the victorious yacht America by the Queen 
 and Prince Albert, 565. 
 
 Instant and awful death of Secretary Gilmer, 441. 
 
 — stunning of Senator Sumner by Brooks's cane, 620. 
 
 Instant summons, trial, and hanging, by the vigilance 
 
 committee, .554. 
 Insurrection, wliiskey, in Pennsylvania, 160. 
 Intellectual range exhil)ilcd l)y Daniel Webster, 299. 
 Intemperate debates in congress, .'!69. 
 Intended breakfast at Arnold's, by Washington, 101. 
 
 — conversion of tlie U. S. Brig Somers into a pirate, 
 416. 
 
 Intention of Shays's followers to seize Boston, 129. 
 Intercourse claimed to be opened between human and 
 
 disembodied spirits, 472. 
 Interest of foreign countries in the Industrial Exhibi 
 
 tion, 601. 
 other nations excited by the treaty between th-i 
 
 U. S. and Japan, 739. 
 Interior of Fort Sumter after the bombardment, 770. 
 International regatta, the yacht America triumphant ii > 
 
 the, 558. 
 Interposition, Col. Benton's, in the Clay and Bandolpli 
 
 duel, 287. 
 
 — of America in Koss<>th's behalf, 586. 
 Interpretation of the language of the spirit world, 473. 
 Interview between Aaron Burr and his pursuers, 208. 
 
 Consul Harris and the Emperor of Japan, 599. 
 
 Gen. Gates and Gen Burgoyne, 78. 
 
 Gen. Washington and Lafayette, 274. 
 
 Generals Grant and Lee, 882. 
 
 Gens Grant and Pemberton, 821. 
 
 Jenny Lind and Mr. Barnum, first, 545. 
 
 John Adams and King George, 121. 
 
 John Paul Jones and his antagonist Commodore 
 
 Pearson, 85. 
 
 Lafayette and "Bed Jacket," 280. 
 
 Mr. Beecher and Mr. Tilton, 946. 
 
 Pres. Grant and the Emperor of Brazil, 952. 
 
 Pres. Lincoln and Gen. Grant, 888. 
 
 Pres. Lincoln and Sec. Stanton, memorable, 882. 
 
 the assassin Booth and his captors, 895. 
 
 Prince of Wales and a Bunker Hill veteran, 
 
 762. 
 
 Washington and Mrs. Arnold, 102. 
 
 Webster and Hayne, after the debate, 304. 
 
 Intrigue and infamy in fashionable life, 627. 
 Introducing Kossuth to congress, 589. 
 Introduction of Lafayette to Gen. Washington, 274. 
 Invasion of Mexico by the U. S. forces, 488. 
 
 the North determined on by Gen. Lee, 826. 
 
 Invention of that Wondkous Piece of Mechan- 
 ism, THE Sewing Machine, 464-471. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 the cotton-gin by Eli Whitney, 153. 
 
 Electric Telegraph, 345. 
 
 Invitation to Kossuth to come to America, 586. 
 Lafayette to become one of Washington's mili- 
 tary family, 274. 
 Inviting Gen. Grant to a peace interview. Gen. Lee, 
 
 881. 
 Involuntary exclamations of wonder during the total 
 
 eclipse, 198. 
 Ireland's appeal borne across the Atlantic, 481. 
 Irish harps and American eagles, 486. 
 Iron and coal display at the centennial, 958. 
 stone no barriers to the Boston fire, 932. 
 
 — -clads Merrimac and Monitor, combat between the, 
 789. 
 
 hearted, but in tears, 209. 
 
 — roofing and plating the Merrimac, 790. 
 
 — span across the wide continent, 911. 
 Irregularities of Miller's followers reproved by him 
 
 437. 
 Irrepressible emotions excited by Mr Webster's oratory, 
 302. 
 
088 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Irresistible pressure of gentleness on horses, Mr. 
 
 Rarey's, 779. 
 Irritation between Mexico and the U. S. leading to war, 
 
 487. 
 Irwinsville, Ga., capture of Jeff. Davis at, 884. 
 Isle of Wight, scene of the international regatta, 660. 
 Issues involved in the triumph of Gen. Grant at Kich- 
 
 mond, 877. 
 
 J. 
 
 Jackson, Dr., his claim to the ether discovery, 463. 
 — , General, his terrible rout and slaughter of the Brit- 
 ish at New Orleans, 257. 
 — , Gen. " Stonewall," at Antietam, 799. 
 — , President, his proclamation against nullification, 
 323. 
 
 , scheme of Lawrence to kill, 337. 
 
 James, army of the, reunion of, at the centennial, 955. 
 
 Jamestown, voyage of the ship, 483. 
 
 Japan, naval expedition to, 592. 
 
 Japanese Embassy to the U. S. government in 18C0, 
 
 732. 
 Java, frigate, Bainbrldge's capture of the, 231. 
 Jayne's Hall, Phila., during the religious revival, 655. 
 Jealousy in congress, on selecting a general for the rev- 
 olutionary army, 112. 
 Jefferson, Thomas, a sketch of his career, 295. 
 
 , his account of the final compact for locating the 
 
 nation. tl capital, 168. 
 , his authorship of the Declaration of Independ- 
 ence. 292. 
 
 , his death on the 50th anniversary of American 
 
 independence, 291. 
 Jewett, Helen, murder of, in New York, 633. 
 Jewish appreciation of Moody and Sankey's labors, 
 
 662. 
 Jocular remark of Pres. Lincoln about being shot, 
 
 889. 
 John Brown's Captueb of Harper's Ferry, Va., 
 
 715-722. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 John-street prayer-meeting. New York, 655. 
 Johnston, Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 787. 
 Jones, John Paul, his capture of the British ship Sera- 
 pis, 81. 
 Jordan's banks described by the explorers, 495. 
 Journeying around the world made easy by the Pacific 
 
 railroad, 914. 
 Joy, national, at the result of the convention for fram- 
 ing the Federal Constitution, 1.38. 
 - occasioned after the " Dark Day" was over, 96. 
 Jubilation at the South at the Bull Run victory, 788. 
 Jubilee in Boston in honor of the return of peace, 915. 
 Judgment Day supposed to have come, 89. 
 July 4, 1776, 65; July 4, 1876, 951. 
 Junction of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, 914. 
 Jury, address by Prof. Webster to the, 528. 
 Jurymen congratulating Mr. Sickles, 096. 
 Justice administered in San Francisco by the vigilance 
 •ommittee, 550. 
 
 Koarsarge and Alabama, battle between the, 851. 
 Keeping at bay tbe whole Union fleet, the ram Tennes- 
 see, 863. 
 
 — his i)l:in of blood in his razor-case, 417. 
 
 — the California gold-di.scovery a secret, 505. 
 Keim's brilHant narrative of operations at Vicksburg, 
 
 819. 
 
 Kelly, O. H., one of the founders of the grange move- 
 ment, 938. 
 
 Key, Francis, his composition of "The Star Spangled 
 Banner," 249. 
 — , Philip Barton, homicide of, by^Hon. Daniel E. 
 Sickles, C89. 
 
 — to Mexico held by the Americans, 490. 
 Keyes's brigade. Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 783. 
 Kilpatrick's, Gen., battle-flag at Gettysburg, 833. 
 
 — leading the cavalry, 871. 
 
 Kinds of phenomena included in " spiritualism," 476. 
 King Charles's charter for Rhode Island, dissatisfaction 
 with, 408. 
 
 — Frederick William's opinion of Fremont's explora- 
 tions, 402. 
 
 — George's conversation with John Adams, 123. 
 speech on acknowledging American independ- 
 ence, 121. 
 
 statue destroyed in New York, 68. 
 
 — , Samuel W., his defeat of Thomas W. Dorr, 412. 
 
 Kingly ceremony in parliament on acknowledging 
 American independence, 120. 
 
 "Kingly pastime," Mr. Morphy's opinion of chess 
 67J. 
 
 Kii k. Edward N., the revival preacher, 657. 
 
 Kissing the corpse of Dr. Burdell by his alleged mur- 
 deress. 028. 
 
 Kit Carson, the intrepid adventurer, 403. 
 
 Knapp, Jacob, the revival preacher, 657. 
 
 Knell of the lawless in California, 551. 
 
 Knighthood conferred upon a defeated officer, 85. 
 
 Knights of Pythias, parade of at the centenjiial, 955. 
 
 Knowledge of the rock-oil sources in olden times, 699. 
 
 Kossuth, Gov-, arrival of, as guest of the nation, 587. 
 
 K. 
 
 Kalakaua, King, tour of, in the United States, 954. 
 Kane, Dr. E. K., his expedition to the polar seas, 535. 
 Kansas, debate on, in Ibo U. S. senate, 617. 
 
 Laconic message of McDonough announcing his victory, 
 
 250. 
 Ladies, enthusiasm of the, towards Gen. Washington, 
 
 142. 
 — ' sanitary fair at Chicago, Pres. Lincoln's gift to, 815. 
 Lady spectators of the Princeton tragedy, 442. 
 Lafayette's brilliant services at York town, 105. 
 
 — visit to America, as the guest of the Republic, 272- 
 281. 
 
 Lake Champlain, McDonough's victory on, 250. 
 
 — Erie, Perry's victory on, 234. 
 
 Lakes and swamps formed by the western earthquake, 
 
 223. 
 Land speculators swarming the west, 645. 
 Landing of Lafayette at New York, 275. 
 Landmarks saved from the fire in Boston, 933. 
 Laryngitis, the disease of which Washington died, 178. 
 Lashed to the m.ast in Mobile Bay, Farr.igut, I^IK. 
 Lashing the flag to the mast-head during battle, 230. 
 Last hours and words of Gen. Washington, 177. 
 
 — war-flag of America in British waters, 482. 
 Latter-Day saints, 306. 
 
 Laudanum soup for savages, Dr. Hayes's timely use of, 
 
 540. 
 Laudation of Lafayette, all over the land, 276. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 989 
 
 Laughing a congressional resolution out of existence, 
 
 36G. 
 Launched from the g.illows by pairs, SoT. 
 Laurels orowuiiiy the huaii of tlio conqueror of peace, 
 
 885. 
 
 — won by Rarey from nionarolis and princes, 772. 
 Lavish and magnilicent hospitalities to the Japanese 
 
 otlioials, 7;;9. 
 
 Law of nations expounded by Kossuth, 590. 
 
 Lawless classes terrified by the action of the vigilance 
 comniiitee, 655. 
 
 Lawrence, Mass., tragedy of the Pemberton Mills in, 
 723. 
 
 — , Richard, his plan to shoot Pres. Jackson, 337; his 
 insanity, 310. 
 
 Laying aside all etiquette, royal visitors at Rarey's per- 
 formances, 777. 
 
 — of the telegraph cable across the Atlantic ocean, 
 899. 
 
 — the corner-stone of the national capiti)l, 171. 
 keel of the tirst Atlantic steamship, 742. 
 
 Leading nulliliers threatened with the gallows, 327. 
 Lear, Col., his account of Washington's wrath, 150. 
 Leaving her rivals, one by one, 504. 
 
 — the White House for the theater, Pres. Lincoln, 
 889. 
 
 Lee, Gen. Henry, subdues the Penn. whiskey insurrec- 
 tion, 16G. 
 
 Lee's, Gen. R. E., great army surrenders to Gen. Grant, 
 883. 
 great military object, 798. 
 
 Legions of Union soldiers besieging Richmond, 877. 
 
 Legislation by congress for celebrating the centennial, 
 952. 
 
 Leisurely movements of the yacht America when start- 
 ing on the race, 501. 
 
 Length of the Great Eastern, 680 feet, 713. 
 pea-serpent, 578. 
 
 Lesson taught by the exhibition of the industry of all 
 nations, C07. 
 . the North by the Bull Run defeat, 788. 
 
 "Let the Bright Seraphim," sung by Parepa-Rosa be- 
 fore Pres. Grant, 919. 
 
 Letter from King George on the Yorktown catastrophe, 
 109. 
 
 — in a golden box from Pres. Fillmore to the Emperor 
 of Japan, 592. 
 
 — , last, written by Washington, 175. 
 
 — of friendship from Emperor William- to the United 
 States, 900. 
 
 — received by Arnold showing his detection, 101. 
 Levee at the White House, Jackson's, after the Webster 
 
 and Hayne debate, 304. 
 ■' Leviathan," the sea-serpent supposed to be the, 578. 
 Liberation of slaves, John Brown's jilan for the, 715, 
 •' Liberty and no Excise," motto of the Penn. whiskey 
 
 insurrectionists, 161. 
 
 — for Kansas, Sumner's speech on, 617. 
 IJfe among the gold-diggers, 500. 
 
 — or death depending on a single word, 528. 
 Lightning rapidity of the flames at the Chicago fire, 
 
 925. 
 Lights and shades of tone marvelously combined in the 
 
 Boston organ, 848. 
 Lincoln, Abraham, his call for 75,000 men, 771. 
 
 , Abraham, his election as president, 704. 
 ■^, Abraham, his proclamation of emancipation, 807. 
 — , Abraham, his visit to Richmond, 883. 
 — , Abraham, is assassinated at Ford's theater, Wash- 
 ington, by J. W, Booth, 887. 
 — , Abraham, obsequies and sepulture, 894. 
 — , Gen., dispersion of Shays's followers in Masfachu- 
 setts by, 130. 
 
 Lincoln, Gen., successes at Forts Edward, Anne, George, 
 
 etc., 75. 
 Liiid, Jenny, her great musical tour in the United 
 
 Slates, 541. 
 Line of battle formed on Lake Chaniplain, 253. 
 
 electric tolegrapli, the tirst, .'i;8. 
 
 Lines of Lee's army fatally broken into, 879; his retreat, 
 
 881 ; capitulation, 882. 
 Linnajan Society's report on the sea-serpent, 581. 
 Lion-like energy of Pres. Jackson on being shot at, 
 
 338. 
 Liquid treasures spouting forth from the earth, 608. 
 Lisbon, celebration of the American centennial at, 
 
 965. 
 List of the dead and wounded, reading the, 729. 
 " Little Turtle," his defeat of St. Clair, 150. 
 Liverpool, Eng., Beecher overcoming the yelling mob 
 
 at, 838. 
 Livingston's aid to Fulton, 213. 
 Lizzie among the awful ruins, 729. 
 Localities unrecognized after the earthquake, 221. 
 Locked iii-doors during the raging fire, 9.35. 
 London, celebration of the American centennial at, 
 
 965. 
 
 — heraldiy oflace visited by John Randolph, 289. 
 Long Island, battle of, 114. 
 
 Longest and most bitter case in judicial annals, 945. 
 Longfellow's mansion in Cambridge, formerly Washing- 
 ton's head-quarters, 114. 
 Long's Peak, in the Rocky Mountains, 403. 
 Longstreet, Gen., at the battle of Antietam, 799. 
 " Look on this picture— and on this," 10. 
 Looking over the Southern map, Sherman, 870. 
 
 — the Tycoon in the face, 599. 
 
 Loomis, Prof., his astronomical observations, 383. 
 
 Lord Chatham's death, after his passionate speech 
 
 against the American colonies, 70. 
 Losing his whole family and noble ship at the same 
 
 time, 615. 
 Loss OF THE Splendid Collins Steamship Arctic, 
 
 OF New York, by Collision with the Iron 
 
 Steamer Vesta, 608-615. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Losses of the two armies in the battle of Bull Run, 780. 
 " Lots " in western cities, 645. 
 
 Louisiana, intended invasion of by the British, 258. 
 Love's last embrace on the Austria, 676. 
 Lowenthal's game of chess with Paul Morphy, 666. 
 Lowering her colors to Her Majesty, during the height of 
 
 the race, 505. 
 Luminous train of 108,000,000 miles to the comet, 425. 
 Luster reflected on American industry, 607. 
 Lustrous grandeur of the aurora borealis, 381. 
 Lyell, Professor, his account of the western earthquake, 
 
 222. 
 
 _-^ , — opinion of the sea-serpent, 578. 
 
 — 's travels among the Second Adventists, 436. 
 Lying in state, Senator Broderick, 711. 
 "Lynch-law," healthy operations of, 550. 
 Lynch's expedition to the Orient, 494. 
 
 M. 
 
 Macaulay's, Lord, tribute to the value of Whitney's cot- 
 ton-gin, 153. 
 
 " Macbeth and Banquo " in a changed scene, 509. 
 
 Macedonian, frigate, capture of the. by Decatur, 231. 
 
 Machinery building at the centennial exhibition, 955. 
 
 Mackenzie, Capt. A. S., his dealintj with the mutineers, 
 417, 
 
990 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Macon, Ga., surrender of Gen. Cobb at, 885. 
 
 Macready, W. C, the English tragedian, mobbed in 
 
 New York, 512. 
 Maddened sea of insult at Liverpool, Mr. Beecher stems 
 
 a. 838. 
 Madman's attempt on Pres. Jackson's life, 337. 
 MafBt, John N., the revival preacher, 657. 
 Magnanimity of Jackson in the flus-h of triumph, 263. 
 Magnates in state and church doing honor to Jenny 
 
 Lind, 546. 
 Magnetism of Rarey's presence among horses, 779. 
 Magnificence of the international exposition at Phila,- 
 
 delphia, 960. 
 Magnificent Auroua Boreat.is Encompassing the 
 
 Whole Firmament to its Farthest Bounds, 379- 
 
 385. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Magnitude and hazard of Pakenham's campaign, 263. 
 Mail wagons for China on the Pacific railroad, 913. 
 Main point of the America's superiority over her com- 
 petitors, 506. 
 Majestic drama of our century's events, 8. 
 
 — oaks tvi isted into shreds by the terrible gale, 267. 
 
 — organ erected in Boston music hall, 844. 
 
 Makes his final confession as the murderer of Parkman, 
 530. 
 
 Making for her antagonist at full speed, the ram Ten- 
 nessee, 863. 
 
 — known the result of Grant and Lee's interview, 
 883. 
 
 Male and female, in youth and beauty, buried in the 
 Pemberton Mills ruins, 724. 
 
 Malignant epidemics, the tender passion still alive dur- 
 ing, 520. 
 
 Mammoth steamship Great Eastern in New York harbor, 
 718. 
 
 Managing his mob audiences in England, Mr. Beecher"s 
 tact in, 843. 
 
 Manassas, or Bull Kun, battle of, 780. 
 
 Manchester, England, attempts to silence Mr. Beecher 
 in, 837. 
 
 Mania for land invpstraents, 645. 
 piracy, Spencer's, 420. 
 
 " Manifest destiny " of the United States, illustration of 
 the. 907. 
 
 Mann, Hon. Horace, 372. 
 
 Mansard roofs the cause of the great Boston fire, 
 932. 
 
 Mansfield, Gen., his lamented death in the midst of 
 battle, 799. 
 
 Mansion, presidential, its condition when first occupied, 
 170. 
 
 Manuscript of the emancipation proclamation, Mr. Lin- 
 coln's, 815. 
 
 Marble column erected at Yorktown, Va., by congress, 
 110. 
 
 March to the sea, Sherman's, 868. 
 
 — upon Baltimore, by the British, 249. 
 
 — 'b account of Mr. Webster's great speech, 299. 
 *' Maria," the name of Gibbs's piratical craft, 316. 
 Maiio Antoinette, Queen of France, gift from, to Gen. 
 
 Washington, 179. . 
 
 Marine disaster never before equaled in American 
 
 waters, 635. 
 
 — monster, the sea-serpent or the, 575. 
 
 Marital reconciliation between Mr. and Mrs. Sickles, 
 
 696. 
 Marking the distance for the duel, 708. 
 Marshall, James W., his discovery of gold iu California, 
 
 504. 
 Martyred president, the, 889. 
 Maryland entered by Gen. Lee's forces, 798. 
 
 Masonic ceremonies at the laying of the capitol corner 
 
 stone, at Wa>hington, 171. 
 Massachusetts, Shnys's rebellion in, 125. 
 Massing of opposing armies at Washington and Rich- 
 mond. 780. 
 Masterpiece of musical art in America, 818. 
 Mastodon, gigantic, brought to view by the western 
 
 earthquake, 221. 
 Matched against all the chess celebrities of Europe, 
 
 G67. 
 Mathew. Father, his visit to this country, 398. 
 Mauna-Loa, explorers on the summit of, 392. 
 McClellan, Gen , in command at Antietam, 798. 
 McCrea, Miss, murder of, at Fort Edward, 73. 
 McDoNOUGH's Naval Victory on Lake Champlain, 
 
 250-256. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 McDowell, Gen., commands the army at Bull Run, 787; 
 
 commencement of his march, 781 ; a lost battle, 783. 
 McDuffie, Senator, his advocacy of nullification, 320. 
 McLean's farm, first and last battle in the rebellion 
 
 fought on, 883. 
 MePherson, Gen., formal surrender of Vicksburg re. 
 
 ceived by, 823. 
 Meade, Gen., in command at Gettysburg; his defeat of 
 
 the confederate hosts, 832. 
 Means of escape, ingenious, from the earthquake at the 
 
 west, 222. 
 Measures for subduing the Penn. whiskey insurrection, 
 
 164. 
 Mechanism of Whitney's cotton-gin, 157. 
 Medals of gold presented to the Japanese ambassadors 
 
 by Pres. Buchanan, 739. 
 Mediation by means of champagne, 594. 
 Medical college, Boston, scene of Dr. Parkman's mur- 
 der, 525. 
 
 — men exultant over the discovery of ether, 457. 
 
 — treatment of Senator Sumner in Paris, 624. 
 "Mediums " in spiritual intercourse, 475. 
 
 Meeting of the Massachusetts insurgents in Shays's re- 
 bellion, 129. 
 
 Somers mutineers on their way to be hung, 
 
 421. 
 
 Melancholy celebrity of the Onderdonk case, 449. 
 
 Melodies of America and Ireland, singing the, 484. 
 
 Melting of iron and granite structures in the Chicago 
 fire, 927. 
 
 Members of the convention for framing the Federal 
 Constitution, appearance of the, 133. 
 
 Mementos of the Japanese visitors, eagerness to ob- 
 tain, 737. 
 
 Memorial from slaves to congress, 365. 
 
 Memory and modesty, Morphy's wonderful, 6C7. 
 
 Menaces or blandishments spurned by John Quincy 
 Adams, 303. 
 
 "Mending the still," Penn. insurrectionists' motto, 
 162. 
 
 " Mental reservations " not now in order, 327. 
 
 Merchants' Exchange building, N. Y., the burning of, 
 354. 
 
 Merciless ridicule of the electric telegraph idea, 348. 
 
 Mercury and whiskey frozen solid, 530. 
 
 Merrimac, havoc done by the iion-clad monster, 790; 
 her history, 789; her discomfiture, 795. 
 
 Message from heaven, reputed sent to Joseph Smitli, 
 307. 
 
 — between the President and Queen inaugurating the 
 Atlantic telegraph cable, 904. 
 
 — to his parents, Spencer, the pirate's, 420. 
 Meteoric shower all over the United States, 329. 
 Meteors, 240,000, visible at Boston. Nov. 30, 1833, 330. 
 MetUod of expunging a vote of censure, 378. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 991 
 
 Miami, Indian battle on the banlis of the, 160, 
 Microcosm of art ami sciencte at Philadelphia, 952. 
 Middlemen in trade, ol>jeutioii of grangers lo, 931). 
 Midnight scenes of terror iu Chicago during the fire, 
 
 9l!(). 
 Mid-ocean collision, at noonday, of the Arctic and Vesta, 
 
 610. 
 
 — union of the telegraphic cables, 903. 
 Midshipman Spencer's scheme of piracy, 415. 
 
 Mifflin, Gov., of Pennsylvania, his elTorts to suppress the 
 
 whislcey insurrection, 165. 
 Mightiest worlt of utility ever achieved by man, 910. 
 Miles's division. Gen., at the battle of Bull Kun, 781. 
 "Militarj' glory," Andre's expected reward of, 100. 
 Uilitiamen meeting Major Andre, 98. 
 Miller's exciting prediction of the second advent of 
 
 Christ, 431. 
 Millions of faces viewing the eclipse, 203. 
 
 money made by a flash upon his mind, 4G9. 
 
 treasure sink with the Central America, 635. 
 
 Mine, terrible disaster at the Avondale, 7;>l. 
 Mining operations in the American El Dorado, 507. 
 Minister Plenipotentiary, first, from the young Republic 
 
 to England, 119. 
 Minnesota, fight between the Merrimac and the, 793. 
 Minute guns and tolling bells for the Princeton tragedy, 
 
 445. 
 Miscalculations made by Comwallis at Yorktown, 105. 
 Misery of the Irish during the famine, 479. 
 Misinterpretation of prophetic texts, 435. 
 Mission of Commodore Biddle to Japan, 593. 
 Mississippi, earthquake on the, 219. 
 Missive from Santa Annti to Gun. Taylor, 488. 
 Missouri, earthquake in, 218. 
 INIistake which led to Arnold's escape, 100. 
 Mob law threatened in congress, 367. 
 Mobile Bay, military operations in, 860. 
 Mock " confinement " of Mrs. Cunningham, 633. 
 Modun operandi of the sewing-machine, 467. 
 Mohammed, comparison of the Mormon " Prophet " 
 
 with, 306. 
 Moment (the) on which a statesman's life depended, 
 
 709. 
 " Monarch of the deep," the, 578. 
 Monarchs contribute to the International Exhibition of 
 
 industry, 601. 
 Monarchy preferred by some officers in the revolution- 
 ary army, 115. 
 Money and rank unavailing in cholera times, 518. 
 
 — center of America in flames, 356. 
 Monitor and Merrimac, battle between the, 793. 
 Monmouth, battle of, 114. 
 
 Monongahela whiskey district, excitement in the, 160. 
 Monroe, President, his invitation to Lafayette. 275. 
 JMoiister meetings of whiskey insurrectionists iu Penn., 
 164. 
 
 — petition in congress, 363. 
 Monterey and Cberubusco, battles of. 488. 
 
 " Montiily Magazine," thrilling chapter in the, 322. 
 
 Monticello. tlie residence of Thomas Jefferson, 292. 
 
 Jlonuuient iu honor of the discovery of ether, 462. 
 
 Moral uses of the telegraphic cable, 905. 
 
 Moody and Sankey, great revival movement under the 
 lead of, 661. 
 
 Mure than four hundred lives lost by the Central Amer- 
 ica disaster, 635. 
 three million slaves declared forever free, 811. 
 
 Morgan, Gen. Daniel, bravery of, in the campaign of 
 1777, 76. 
 
 Mormons, the rise and progress of the, 306. 
 
 Morocco, humiliation of, by the young Republic, 188. 
 
 "Moroni," the allege4 ange^ froip heaven to Joseph 
 ^milh, 307. 
 
 Morphy, Paul, the chess champion of the world, 666. 
 Morri8.sey, John, his prize-liglil with Heenan, 081. 
 Mou.sK's Invention oi-' tiik ELiicruio Telegrai'u, 
 
 345-352. 
 (For topical and atiali/tical details, see fust page of tlii» 
 
 Ecent.) 
 Mortal blow dealt Dr. Parkman by Prof Webster, 529. 
 Mortal Duel hetween Hon. Jonathan Ciller 
 
 AND Hon. W. J. Graves, 712-714. 
 (For topical atid analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Mortal fear excited by the great meteoric shower, 329. 
 
 — wound received by Alexander Hamilton, 194. 
 Morton, Dr., his claim to the etlier discovery, 463. 
 Most grand and brilliant of celestial phenomena, 329. 
 
 — important state paper since the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence, 811. 
 
 — majestic musical demonstration of modern limes, 
 923. 
 
 — perfect drama of blood in the annals of crime, 626. 
 Mother and daughter choose a watery grave from the 
 
 burning ship, 075. 
 
 — of bis child, Mr. Sickles's tenderness for the, 696. 
 Washington, the, her parting words to the Gen.. 
 
 eral, 141. 
 Motion made by John Adams that congress adopt the 
 
 army and appoint a general, 113. 
 Mount Vernon, departure of Washington from, for the 
 
 presidential oflice, 140. 
 
 , the Washington residence, 140. 
 
 visited by the Piince of Wales, 759. 
 
 Mountains tunneled, rivers bridged, on the P.acific rail, 
 
 road route, 909. 
 Mounting the fatal platform, 721. 
 Mourning, universal, at Washington's death, 174. 
 Moving his troops across the Potomac, Gen. Lee, 826. 
 
 — pillar of light seen during the great aurora borealis, 
 383. 
 
 Mrs. Clay, appearance of, the night before the duel, 
 283. 
 
 — Fremont's gift to the prayer-meetings, 660. 
 
 — Tilton's denial in court of her husband's charges, 
 949. 
 
 Mudd, trial of, for assassination conspiracy, 898. 
 Multiplied crimes of Gibbs, the pirate, 319. 
 Mvmicipal centennial celebrations, 962. 
 
 IVf URDEE OF Dr. BURDELL, 626. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Murder of Dr George Parkman, a noted Boston 
 Millionaire, by Prof. John W. Webster, of 
 Harvard College, 523-532. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Mirder of President Lincoln by J. Wilkes 
 
 Booth, 887. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Murder of Samuel Adams, of New York, by John 
 
 C. Colt, 531. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Muscular magnificence of Morrissey and Heenan, 682. 
 Music Hall, erection and inauguration of the great organ 
 in Boston, 844. 
 
 playing by the French troops in America, 108. 
 
 Musical festival for five days in Boston, 915. 
 
 — tour of Jenny Lind, the "Swedish Nightingale," 541. 
 Mustering the hands aft, Capt. Semmes, 854. 
 Mutiny on Board the U. S. Brig -of- War Somers, 
 
 415-423. 
 (For topical apd Cf,nalylical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
992 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Mutual attachment between 'Washington and Lafayette, 
 '275. 
 
 — friend chosen for the Clay and Randolph duel, 283. 
 
 — protection and advancement aimed at by the gran- 
 gers, 939. 
 
 " My child ! Tuy child ! "—cry of a bereaved mother at the 
 
 school -house catastrophe, 570. 
 " My Mother's Gold Ring," 394. 
 
 Myriads of fire-balls in the heavens, Nov. 30, 1833, 330. 
 Mysterious dark day, 89. 
 
 — disappearance of Dr. Parkman of Boston, 523. 
 the comet in the unknown realms of space, 
 
 429. 
 
 — fate of Theodosia, Burr's daughter, 211. 
 
 N. 
 
 Nahant beach, sea-serpent seen by thirty persons at, 
 
 578. 
 Narrative of the solar eclipse, Cooper's, 197. 
 Narrow escape of Pres. Tyler, at the Princeton explo- 
 sion, 441. 
 Narrowness of Boston streets contributing to the extent 
 
 of the fire, 932. 
 National capital founded, 167. 
 — flags for winding-sheets, 441. 
 National Peace Jubilee and Musical Festival 
 
 FOR Five Days, in Boston, 915-923. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Efent.) 
 Nature, transition in, occasioned by the sun's eclipse, 
 198. 
 
 —'8 secrets unbosomed by the western earthquake, 
 221. 
 Nautical peculiarities of the mammoth Great Eastern, 
 
 743. 
 Nauvoo, the Mormon Mecca, 311. 
 Naval Expedition to Japan, under Commodore 
 
 M. C. Perry, 592-599. 
 '^For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Naval warfare revolutionized by the combat in Hamp- 
 ton Roads, 797. 
 Navigation by steam due to American ingenuity, 212. 
 Near approach of the comet to the sun, 427. 
 Nebulous diameter of the wonderful comet, 427. 
 Neglect of all secular concerns by Miller's followers, 
 
 436. 
 Negroes not allowed to take up arms in the war, 808. 
 Ncilson, Judge, appeal to by Mrs. Tilton, 949. 
 " Nel.-ion," Washington's magniticent charger at York- 
 town, 107. 
 Nerve of Admiral Porter in battle, 867. 
 Nestor of Massachusetts statesmen, the, 370. 
 Net-work of telegraphic communication over the whole 
 
 world, -.m. 
 Never-to-be-forgotten-scene in Hampton roads, 794. 
 " Never will we surrender the ship! " — Morris's reply to 
 
 Buchanan, 796. 
 New constitution for Rhode Island proposed, 409. 
 
 — Haven, view of the auroral phenomenon at, 379. 
 
 — Orleans, defeat of the British army by Gen. Jackson 
 at. 257. 
 
 — spectacle in the western world — inauguration of a 
 president, 144. 
 
 — themes and actors on the theater boards, 658. 
 
 — York City, tremendous flro in, 353. 
 
 to San Francisco by rail in seven days, 914. 
 
 New-bom agent of civilization. 899. 
 
 " New-fangled craft," term applied to Fulton's steam- 
 boat, 212. 
 
 Ncwburgh, Washington's farewell to the army at, 116. 
 
 News of Gates's surrender, Washington's reception of, 
 79. 
 the California gold discovery, spread of the, 505. 
 
 Newspapers, banks, etc., destroyed by the Chicago fire, 
 925. 
 
 Niagara, conveying the Japanese officials by the ship-of - 
 war, 739. 
 
 Niblo's Garden, Barey's astounding performances at, 
 778. 
 
 Nicaraguan schemes of Gen. 'Walker, 751. 
 
 Night of terror for New York, Dec. 16, 1835, 354. 
 
 — scenes at Richmond on its evacuation. 879. 
 
 Nine out of twelve jurymen in favor of Mr. Beecher, 
 
 950. 
 "Ninety and nine," 064. 
 
 five concerts and $700,000, Jenny Lind's, 544. 
 
 "No compromise with traitors," 326. 
 
 No English flag on Lake Champlain, 256. 
 
 "No fiddler ever known to convict for murder," 696. 
 
 — general on the battle-field, 787. 
 
 — hand to smooth his couch or wipe his brow, 711. 
 
 — mercy to shoot a man in the knee, 288. 
 " — obstacles to him who wills," 586. 
 
 — sunlight for one hundred and forty days, 534. 
 
 — superiority in Morpby's chess games until after his 
 twentieth move, 669. 
 
 Nomination of Washington as General of the Army, in 
 
 congress, by Mr. Johnson, of Md., 113. 
 Noonday comet, the, 425. 
 North America covered, for hours, with fiery meteors. 
 
 330. 
 Northern soil invaded by the confederate army, 826. 
 
 — States, the, wrapt in a dense black atmosphere for 
 fifteen hours, 89. 
 
 North-west expedition of discovery by Fremont, 402. 
 Not a female saved from the Arctic's awful doom, 615. 
 
 — able to make the thing work, 465. 
 
 " — guilty." joy on receiving the verdict of, in the 
 Sickles case, 695. 
 
 — much encouragement f®r Dead Sea travelers, 498. 
 
 — to be intimidated, 367. 
 Novelty in naval combats in 1779, 83. 
 Nucleus of a great empire on the Pacific, 505. 
 Nullification Outbreak in South Carolina, 320- 
 
 328. 
 {Far topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
 Event.) 
 
 0. 
 
 " O Lord, my God! " dying words of Smith the Mormon 
 
 " prophet," 312. 
 Oak Ridge cemetery, Pres. Lincoln's remains conveyed 
 
 to, 893. 
 Oath administered to Washington, at his inauguration, 
 
 144. 
 - to support the Constitution, Calhoun taking the, 
 
 324. 
 Object of Randolph in firing at Clay, 288. 
 Objections, religious, to the introduction of anaesthetics, 
 
 4"8. 
 Ob.ects contributed by crowned heads to the centennial 
 
 exposition, 9.'8, 959. 
 Obliteration of streets in Boston by the great fire, 936. 
 Obsequies of Pres. Lincoln, imposing character of the, 
 
 893. 
 I Observations of the total eclipse of the sun. 200. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 993 
 
 Observatory established by the Boutii pole voyagers, 
 
 387. 
 Obstinacy of King George in American ailairs, 120. 
 Obstinate bras-ery of the hosts at Antietain, 805. 
 Ooeupation of a foreign capital for tlw first time by the 
 
 U S..488. 
 Ocean navigation, greatest achievement in, 742. 
 
 — spray covering the interior, during the great galo, 
 2G9. 
 
 — telegraph cable, successful laying of the Atlantic, 
 904. 
 
 Odd Follows, parade of at the centennial, 955. 
 
 — talli during the etherization process, 461. 
 Ode for the centennial by Bayard Taylor, 9G0. 
 
 " Of such is the kingdom of heaven,"— tragic fate of the 
 little ones, 5G8. 
 
 Offense given to South Carolina by Senator Sumner's 
 speech, 617. 
 
 Offers his hand to Clay, Randolph, 288. 
 
 Official commission appointing Washington commander- 
 in-chief, 113. 
 
 Ogden's house untouched in the midst of the Chicago 
 lire, 930. 
 
 Oglesby, Gen., his interview with Pres. Lincoln, 888. 
 
 " Oh, for four regiments ! "—Gen. Johnston's exclama- 
 tion at Bull Run, 787. 
 
 " Oh, God ! It is all over,— it is all over ! "—Lord North's 
 exclamation at Cornwallis's defeat, 104. 
 
 " Oh, my poor mother and sisters! " 612. 
 
 Ohio valley, earthqualie felt all along the, 219. 
 
 Oil regions in Pennsylvania, etc., 698. 
 
 O'Laughlin and Arnold, trial of, for assassination con- 
 spiracy, 898. 
 
 Old and new : sewing by hand and machine, 470. 
 
 — animosities, continuance of, between England and 
 America, 119. 
 
 "Old Ironsides," pet name of the frigate Constitution, 
 
 225. 
 " Old man eloquent," the, term applied to J. Q. Adams, 
 
 363. 
 " Old Osawatomie," John Brown known as, 715. 
 
 — salts venturing their opinions on the results of the 
 race, 560. 
 
 "Old South" church, Boston, narrow escape of, from 
 
 burning, 933. 
 Olympian oratory of Mr. Beecher in Europe in defense 
 
 of the Union cause, 837. 
 Omens of disaster to the business world, 645. 
 On a plank in the yawning ocean, 640. 
 
 — his way to the gallows, John Brown, 721. 
 
 — the top of the Sierras, railway cars, 908. 
 
 " On to Richmond ! " — the Union war cry, 780. 
 
 " On to the Capital ! "—Scott's order to his troops, 490. 
 
 — Utah Lake, 405. 
 
 Onderdonk, Bishop, affecting death-bed scene of, 455. 
 One fearful shriek and all was over, 613. 
 
 — hundred and fifty thousand dollars for a chance in a 
 boat, 614. 
 
 elaborate orations by Kossuth in his country's 
 
 behalf, 590. 
 
 thousand men on each side of the battle, 803. 
 
 persons made homeless by the Chicago fire, 
 
 929. 
 yachts at Cowes witness the international regatta, 
 
 561. 
 years ago, 65. 
 
 — of the first conversions in the great awakening, 
 659. 
 
 — thousand dollars for a baby, 632. 
 
 Only instance of the kind since the Reformation, 448. 
 "Only knocked down temporarily," 769. 
 
 — occasion on which Jenny Lind complimented her 
 own singing, 544. 
 
 63 
 
 Only one boat of the Austria safely afloat, 674. 
 "Onward, my brave comrades!" Jeff. Davis to his troops 
 
 at Bull Run, 787. 
 Open polar sea discovered by Dr. Kano, 5.37. 
 Opening of the attack on Fort Sumter, and of the great 
 
 civil war, 705. 
 
 — the Mississippi once more to commerce. Gen. Grant, 
 824. 
 
 Opera-house riots. New York, 508. 
 
 Opinion of the Massachusetts rebellion expressed by 
 
 Washington, 127. 
 Opposed to all unconstitutional anti-slavery acts, Pres. 
 
 Lincoln, 807. 
 Opposition steam-boat lines, first, 217. 
 
 — to the tax laws in Massachusetts, 126. 
 Oppressions, British, complained of by the American 
 
 colonies, 69. 
 
 Oracular predictions of the enemies of free govern- 
 ment, 8. 
 
 Oration by Mr. Evarts at the national centennial, 960. 
 
 — in France, on the death of George Washington, 180. 
 Okatorical, Championship of America's Cause 
 
 IN England by Rev. H. W. Beecher, 836-843. 
 
 tFor topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
 Event.) 
 
 Oratorical powers displayed by Kossuth, 591. 
 
 Oratorios and symphonies in Boston in honor of the re- 
 turn' of peace, 920. 
 
 Orchestra of two thousand instruments at the world's 
 peace jubilee, 923. 
 
 Ordeal of Burnside's corps at Antietam, 801. 
 
 Order out of chaos, 371. 
 
 Orders from England to " lay waste " America, 242. 
 
 — of glory conferred by foreign governments on Prof. 
 Morse, 351. 
 
 — to Union generals on the treatment of slaves, Pres. 
 Lincoln's, 808. 
 
 Oregon, early exploration of, 405. 
 — , Fremont's tour to, 405. 
 Organ, erection and inauguration of the great Boston, 
 
 844. 
 Organic form of government needed by the U. S., 132. 
 Organization of the Southern Confederacy, 765. 
 Oriental visitors at the capital, 738. 
 Origin of the duel between Clay and Randolph, 283. 
 Original magnetic-telegraph instrument, 347. 
 
 — pick and shovel used on the Pacific railroad, 909. 
 
 — principle of the sewing-machine, 464. 
 
 Orion, stars of, visible during the solar eclipse, 197. 
 
 Other side of the picture, 704. 
 
 Out-stretched forefinger of a century, the, 10. 
 
 Outburst of popular enthusiastic greeting for Lafayette, 
 272. 
 
 Outcaroled by the woodland warbler, Jenny Lind, 
 547. 
 
 Outpouring of sublime and patriotic music at the Bos- 
 ton peace jubilee, 917. 
 
 Outrages committed in the Penn. whiskey insurrection, 
 162. 
 
 Outwitting the U. S. officials, 751. 
 
 Ovation, national, to Lafayette, 281. 
 —3 to Washington on his journey, 142. 
 
 Overmasterixig intensity of heat in the Boston fire, 
 932. 
 
 Overpowering quiet and solitude in the Rocky Mount- 
 ains, 404. 
 
 Overthrow of St. Clair, " Little Turtle's," 148. 
 the four years gigantic rebellion, 877. 
 
 Overtures and cheers— Henry Clay at Jenny Lind's con- 
 cert, 548. 
 
 — , choruses, anthems, etc., by ten thousand voices, 
 917. 
 
 — to Farragut to join the South, 859, 
 
994 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 P. 
 
 Pacific riiilroad, triumphant completion of the, 907. 
 Pageant in New Yoik, on Kossutli's arrival, 587. 
 
 — of auroral splendor covering Europe and America, 
 385. 
 
 Painless performance of surgical operations, 456. 
 
 Painting the eniaucipatiun event, Mi-. Carpenter, 809. 
 
 Pakenham, Gen., his command of the British army at 
 New Orleans, 261 ; his fall at the onset, 261. 
 
 Palace of glass and iron in New York, 602. 
 — s and hovels of Chicago a common prey in the great 
 fire, 925. 
 
 Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma, battles of, 488. 
 
 Pang of horror at Pres. Lincoln's fate, universal, 892. 
 
 Panic among the women, during the California earth- 
 quake, 224. 
 
 Panorama of vastuess and grandeur along the Pacific 
 railroad, 909. 
 
 Papers discovered in Andre's boots, 99. 
 
 Parents forsaking children and fleeing from the cholera, 
 517. 
 
 Parepa-Rosa, her marvelous performances at the peace 
 jul)ilee, 921. 
 
 Paris, celebration of the American centennial at, 905. 
 
 Parkinson's Ferry, Va., convention of whiskey insurrec- 
 tionists at, 165. 
 
 Parkman, Dr. George, murder of, in Boston, by Prof. 
 J W. Web^t ;r, 523. 
 
 Parliament acknowledging American Independence, 
 120. 
 
 — , the British, stunned by the news of Burgoyue's 
 capitulution, 80. 
 
 Parliamentary triumph of John Quincy Adams, 371. 
 
 Parlor interview between Gens. Grant and Lee, 882. 
 
 Parting of Gon. Lee with his soldiers at Richmond, 883. 
 — s and deaths on the Central America, 638. 
 
 Partisan prejudice disowned by the grangers, 910. 
 
 Parton's adtniiable sketch of Howe's invention, 465, 
 
 Pass from Gen. Arnold exhibited by Andre, 99. 
 
 Passage down the Jordan, the sacred river, 495. 
 
 Passage of Benton's Famous " Expunging Resolu- 
 tion" IN THE U.S. Senate, after aTheee Years 
 Pauliaimentarv Struggle, 373-378. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Passage-money, first steam-boat, 210. 
 
 Passing the batteries of Forts Jackson and St. Philip, 
 8G1. 
 royal yacht, 565. 
 
 Passionate oratory of Senator Hayne, 299. 
 
 Passions and vices of human nature illustrated during 
 the cholera scourge, .520. 
 
 Past rivalries and animosities forgotten, 296. 
 
 Patent-office display at the centennial, 957. 
 
 Pathetic letter of Eli Whitney to Robert Fulton, 159. 
 
 — scenes during the Chicago fire, 930. 
 
 Patriotic conciliation in the convention for framing the 
 
 Constitution, 137. 
 Patrons of Husbandry, 941. 
 Pavilion for women at the centennial, 957. 
 Paying him their heaviest compliments, 864. 
 
 — 83,000 for the original emancipation proclamation, 
 815. 
 
 — "tribute" to the Barbary States, 182. 
 Payne, trial and execution of, for conspiracy, 897. 
 Peabody, George, )\U visit in Boston, 921. 
 
 Peace between the United Statt^s and Great Britain, 
 
 treaty of, 257. 
 *' Peace in Europe "—first telegraphic dispatch over the 
 
 Atlantic cable, 904. 
 
 — jubilee and niusic.ll festiv.al in Poston, 915. 
 Peals of tliuiider duiiiig the " park Pay," 93. 
 
 Pecuniary importance of mechanical inventions, 471. 
 
 — relations between Parkman and Webster, 524. 
 Pemberlon, Gen., his command of Vicksburg, Miss., 818; 
 
 his surrender, 823. 
 
 — Mills in Lawrence, Mass., fall and conflagration of, 
 723. 
 
 Pen with which the proclamation of emancipation was 
 
 written, 807. 
 Penal colonies of England emptied Into California, 551. 
 Penalty of Walker's fillibuslering expeditions, 755; his 
 
 execution and last words, 755. 
 rennant of the Alabama, running up the, 854. 
 Penning his ofiicial dispatch, announcing the fall of 
 
 Sumter, Major Anderson, 770. 
 Pennsylvania whiskey insurrection, 100. 
 Penobscot Bay, visit of the sea-serpent at, 576. 
 Pentecost, the American, 659. 
 Perkins, Hon. T. H., his near view of the sea-serpent, 
 
 578. 
 Peroration, impressive, of Webster's speech, 303. 
 Perry, Commodore, his capture of the British squadron, 
 
 234. 
 — , Com. M. C, his expedition to Japan, 592. 
 Personal appearance of Aaron Burr, 191. 
 
 Brigham Young, 312. 
 
 Capt. Hull, on ordering the Constitution's fire, 
 
 233. 
 
 Daniel Webster, 302. 
 
 George Washington, ISO. 
 
 Gen. Jackson at the battle of New Orleans, 
 
 263. 
 
 Gen. Robert E. Lee, 882. 
 
 Gen. Sherman, 876. 
 
 Gen. Walker.the fillibustering chief, 755. 
 
 Gov. Kossuth, 590. 
 
 John Brown, 719. 
 
 John Quincy Adams, 369. 
 
 Lawrence, the would-be assassin of Pres. Jack- 
 son, 311. 
 
 Morrissey and Heenan, in fighting ring, 684. , 
 
 Prof J. W. Webster, 527. 
 
 Robert Fulton. 217. 
 
 the ambassadors from Japan, 736. 
 
 Prince of Wales, 703. 
 
 — intercourse with Arnold avoided in England, 103. 
 
 — offering from Victoria to the World's Fair in New 
 York, 60 ;. 
 
 Personating Dr. Burdell in marriage, 627. 
 Peschka-Leutner, her musical performances at the 
 
 World's peace jubilee, 923. 
 " Pet lambs " in battle, bravery of the, 785. 
 Petersburg evacuated by the confederate army, 879. 
 Petroleum Excitement in Pennsylvania, 698- 
 
 706. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page qf tkls 
 
 Event.) 
 Phases of the solar eclipse at the South, 202. 
 Phenomenon of terrible heat in the Chicago and Boston 
 
 fires, 932. 
 Philadelphia, international exposition at, 952. 
 
 — occupied by Gen. Howe, 72. 
 
 Phillipps and Ole Bull at the great musical jubilee In 
 Boston, 921. 
 
 Philosophy of Jlr. Rarey's method with the horse, 774. 
 
 Photographing the total solar eclipse, 201. 
 
 Phraseology of the Tycoon's letter to the President, 
 736. 
 
 I'hysico-psychological phenomena, wonderful, 472. 
 
 Pick, the, that struck the first blow on the Union Pa- 
 cific railroad, 909. 
 
 Picked men employed by the British against America, 
 251. 
 on board the Alabama, 852. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 995 
 
 Picture gallery of the nallonal century, 14. 
 
 Pierce, Presi<ieut, inauguration of tlio N. Y. Industrial 
 
 Exliil)ilton by, 605. 
 Pi< icing and flnliing tlio frigates, tho monster Merri- 
 
 mao, 7;)L>. 
 Pilgriniiige to tho tomb of a " rebel " general, the Prince 
 
 of Wales's, 759. 
 ♦' Pillar of salt, or Lot's wife," Americana visit the, 
 
 499. 
 Pinioning John Brown on the scaffold, 722. 
 Pioneers in llie oil-boring business, C99. 
 Pipes of the colossal Boston organ, iiuuiense size of tho, 
 
 812. 
 Pirate Gibbs, his career, capture, ami execution, 314. 
 Piratical powers, America dealing with the, 182. 
 Piteous appeal to Gibbs, a young girl's, for her life, 
 
 317. 
 Pitiable sights during the burning of Chicago, 930. 
 Pittsburg Penn , memorable conflagration in, 353. 
 Pius IX.. his contribution to the centennial, 959. 
 Plan of government submitted by K;indolph, 135. 
 Planets seen during the total sohir eclipse, 202. 
 Planting the U. S. flag on the Rocky Mountain peak, 
 
 404. 
 Plattsburg reached by the British, 251. 
 Plaudits and congratulations exchanged for stampings 
 
 aiid*liisses, 843. 
 Playf"!!! raillery between Washington and Lafayette, 
 
 101. 
 PUying against and beating eight rivals, Morphy blind- 
 folded, 6G8. 
 
 — whst at a neighbor's, after the murder, Prof. Web- 
 ster, 530. 
 
 — with the grass and flowers, Grant and Pemberton, 
 822 
 
 Plaza of Granada, Gen. Walker executing his old foe in, 
 
 751. 
 Pleasant courtesies between Webster and Hayne, 301. 
 Pleasantries between Clay and Randolph after the duel, 
 
 289. 
 Pleasure tourists on board the ill-fated Arctic, 615. 
 Plot to Dkltver We.st Point, the Gibraltar of 
 
 AMEK CA, TO THE BRITISH, 97-103. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Pluck of an Irishman in a scene of horror, 728. 
 Commodore McDonough, 250. 
 
 llump and dextrous retort by Beecher to the English 
 mob. 811. 
 
 Plunder of the American capital by the British, 218. 
 
 Plymouth, Mass., appearance of the sea-serpent at, 
 57(5. 
 
 Poem for the centennial inauguration by John G. 
 Wliittier, 952. 
 
 Point of exception taken by South Carolina to Mr. 
 Sumner's speech, 617. 
 
 Polar wonders discovered by the U. S scientific expedi- 
 tion. 391. 
 
 Policy of compromise opposed by Mr. Webster, 325. 
 
 Political issue made in Rhode Island, 409. 
 
 Politics and dueling in America, 707. 
 
 Polk's proolamati )n of war with Mexico, 487. 
 
 Polygamy •' divinely " introduced among the Mormons, 
 312 
 
 Poor evidence of courage, 593. 
 
 — farmers becoming millionaires in the oil country, 704. 
 Popular interest of the subjects treated in this volume, 
 
 10. 
 
 — labor organizations, 938. 
 
 Portentous dis^iatch in parliament, Corjiwallis's sur- 
 render, 108. 
 Porter, Admiral, his naval achievements, 860. 
 — , Gju. Filz John, at the battle of Autietam, 803. 
 
 Portland harbor, magnificence of, on tho Prince of 
 
 Wales's depaiture, 76.!. 
 — , M,'iini\ vast dcslruction in by fire, .353. 
 Po-isible ciusi) of the " D.irU Day," 95. 
 Postlni no IS honors to I'res. Lincoln, 891. 
 Potomac, army of tho, reunion of, at Philadelphia, 
 
 955. 
 
 — , the nation.'il capital to be located on the, 168. 
 Potter, John I)., the revival preacher, 657. 
 Pouring a broadside into the Bon Homme Richard, 
 
 85. 
 Powerlessness of tho oflicers on board the Austria, 
 
 674. 
 Practicability of painless surgery first demonstrated, 
 
 459. 
 Praj-er at Pres. Lincoln's death-bed. Dr. Gurley's, 892. 
 
 — before battle, Com. McDoiiough's, on Lake Cham- 
 plain, 2,''j3. 
 
 meetings all over the lar.d, 6.')4. 
 
 Preaching characteristics of Win. ISliller, 4,'!7. 
 Precarious tenure of human life, impressive illustration 
 
 of the. 5C7. 
 Precipita' e flight of President Madison from the British, 
 
 246. 
 
 — retreat of the federal army at Bull Run, 784. 
 Precipitated into the abyss of destruction, 571. 
 Precisely mistaking their man, 307. 
 Preparations for Christ's Second coming, 436. 
 Presence of mind during the Pemberton Mills catastro 
 
 phe, 720. 
 Present of a banner from Cork to Boston, 485. 
 Presenting Kossuth to the American people, 587. 
 Presentment of charges against the bishop of New YorV 
 
 448. 
 President Jackson, attempted assassination of, 337. 
 's wrath aroused, 326. 
 
 — Lincoln assassinated at Ford's theater, by J. W. 
 Booth, 887. 
 
 Presidential honors at the White House, to Jenny Lind, 
 645. 
 
 — reception of the Prince of Wales, England's future 
 king. 757. 
 
 Press and pulpit discussions of the " spiritual " phenom- 
 ena, 477 
 
 Pressing her baby to her breast and jumping from the 
 burning ship, 676. 
 
 Pressure of the wind duiinj the great September gale, 
 265. 
 
 Prestige given to American naval prowess, 82. 
 
 — to American arms gained by the victory at Kew 
 Orleans, 257. 
 
 Presumed jeopardy of half a continent, 335. 
 Pretending to give birth to Dr. Burdell's child, 633. 
 Pretext, Aaron Burr's alleged, for his suspicious move- 
 ments, 204. 
 Price of Arnold's treason, 103. 
 
 — paid for the original proclamation of emancipation, 
 815. 
 
 Prima-donnas at the musical festival in Boston, 917. 
 
 Prince of Wales, his tour in the United States, 756. 
 
 Princeton, battle of, 114. 
 — , session of congress at, 168. 
 
 Principle involved in Mr. Rarey's wonderful success 
 with horses. 778. 
 —8 and aims of the grange societies, 939. 
 
 — s of action governing the California vigilance commIt> 
 tee, 551. 
 
 government agreed upon by the federal conven- 
 tion at Pliila.. 1.:7. 
 
 Prismatic brilliancy of the heavens, Nov. 13-14, 1837, 
 383. 
 
 Prisoners of war at last, Gen. Walker and his «»aiy, 
 754, 
 
996 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Prize-fight between Morrissey and Heenan, 681. 
 
 Prize offered for the successful yacht in international 
 
 regatta, 558. 
 Problem of steam propulsion solved by Fulton, 217. 
 — s of public policy, 11. 
 Proceeds of Jenny Lind's first concert in America all 
 
 given to charity, 546. 
 Processes and results of industry revolutionized by in- 
 ventive skill, 470. 
 Proclamation of Emancipation as a Wak Meas- 
 ure, BY President Lincoln, 807-816. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Prodigious velocity of the great comet, 427. 
 Producers and consumers, grangers' view of, 939. 
 Programme of the Boston musical festival, 915. 
 Progress of the total solar eclipse, 199. 
 Prohibition of slavery in the U. S, declared by constitu- 
 tional amendment, 816. 
 Projected British invasion of the northern states, 
 
 250. 
 Prolonged embarrassment and distrust in the business 
 
 world, C52. 
 Promises made by Burr to bis followers, 206. 
 Promontory Point, uniting the two grand divisions of 
 
 the Pacific railroad at, 910. 
 Promulgating the emancipation proclamation at the 
 
 South 814. 
 Proofs of Lafayette's patriotism and military skill, 
 
 275. 
 Property seized at the South, at the beginning of the 
 
 civil war, 764. 
 Prophecies of the Bible as interpreted by Mr. Miller, 
 
 434. 
 " Prophet of the Lord," the, title assumed by the Mor- 
 mon leader, 306. 
 — s of evil omen across the water, 8. 
 Proposed location of the national government on the 
 Susquehanna, 168; or in New York, 168. 
 — memorial tribute to Senator Sumner, after the as- 
 sault, 621. 
 Prospect of awful grandeur produced by the great fire, 
 
 360. 
 Prosperity and power of the republic on its centennial 
 
 anniversary, 951. 
 Prostration everywhere of all branches of industry, 
 
 650. 
 Protest by John Quincy Adams in congress, 363. 
 
 Pres. Jackson, against the senate's resolution of 
 
 censure, 375. 
 Proud day for America, 107. 
 Provisional peace between England and America, 
 
 71. 
 Psalms and hymns instead of polkas and opera songs, 
 
 658. 
 Public services of Alexander Hamilton, 190. 
 Publicists' opinion of the granger system, 911. 
 Pugilism in America, introduction of, 081. 
 Punishment and Complete Degradation of the 
 Barbary States by the Young Republic, 182- 
 188. 
 {Bhr topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Pure white combined with vivid colors in the wonderful 
 
 aurora, 382. 
 Purple tinge of the atmosphere during the earthquake, 
 
 219. 
 Purpose of the assassination conspirators, 887. 
 Purses of gold untouched in the face of death, 642. 
 Pushing the line of railroad to the Pacific to completion, 
 
 909. 
 Putting in operation the first recording electric tele- 
 graph, 346. 
 
 Q. 
 
 Quacks and nostrums rife in time of pestilence, 522. 
 Queen of England's interview with John Adams, 
 
 124. 
 " Queen of Song." the, in America, 541. 
 the Netherlands present at the Moody and Sankey 
 
 meetings, 662. 
 
 — Victoria witnesses the racing match in which the 
 America won, 565. 
 
 Question asked Farragut by a lady, 866. 
 
 Mr. Webster by Mr. Hayne, and its answer, 
 
 303. 
 
 — of power between the whites and Indians forever 
 settled, 152. 
 
 Quiet coolness of voice and manner in treating horses, 
 
 Mr. Karey's, 779. 
 Quincy, Mass., Adams's mansion at, 296. 
 
 R. 
 
 Pace for the " Cup of All Nations," in the great inter- 
 national regatta, 558. 
 
 Rage of the Turks against America, 187. 
 
 Raging and furious animals made docile by Mr. Earey's 
 system, 774. 
 
 Raging and foaming of the rivers, during the great 
 September gale, 265. 
 
 — tire niglit and day in Boston, 933. 
 Railroad to the Pacific, construction of the, 908. 
 Rain-gauge, during the Sept. gale, 271. 
 
 — of shot and shell at Antietam, 800. 
 Raleigh, arrival of Sherman's army at, 875. 
 
 "Rally round the flag!"— troops at Vicksburg singing, 
 
 823. 
 Randolph, John, his duel with Henry Clay, 282. 
 Rank held by Benedict Arnold in the British army, 
 
 103. 
 Rapturous applause by Queen Victoria on witnessing 
 
 Rarey's horse-taming feats, 776. 
 Rare commingling of artillery, bells, and music, 918. 
 Rarey, John S., his success in taming furious horses, 
 
 773. 
 Ratification of the Federal Constitution, 188. 
 Ravages of the cholera when at its deadliest prevalence, 
 
 516. 
 Reading Jving George's letter on Cornwallis's surrender, 
 
 109. 
 
 — his commissipn tp his ship's hands, Capt. Semmes, 
 854. 
 
 coiistiti^ejjts' petitipn, in congress, Mr. Adams, 
 
 364. 
 
 — the Declaration of Independence to the army, 68. 
 Declaration of Independence in Phila., July 4, 
 
 1876, by Richard H. Lee, 967. 
 
 indictment for murder to Prof. Webster, 527. 
 
 names of the lost and saved, 009. 
 
 Ready to rip themselves open for the captain's satisfac- 
 tion, 593. 
 
 Real name of Gibbs the pirate, 314. 
 
 Reason for narrating the brutal prize-fight, 682. 
 
 Rebellion in Rhode Island under Thomas W. 
 Dorr, 408-414. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Rebellion, Shays's, in Massachusetts, 126. 
 
 Receiving Cornwallis's surrender. Gen. Washington, 
 108. 
 
 Reception given the Declaration of Independence in 
 England, 69. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 UU' 
 
 Reception of Gov. Kossuth, the Great Hcnoa- 
 kiax kxile.as the u uest of the nation, 583- 
 
 591. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Ereut.) 
 
 Reception of the Japanese treaty ambassadors, 733. 
 
 Keck less stock gambling, 051. 
 
 Kccliiiining the intemperate, 398. 
 
 Keclamatioii of hardened characters during the relig- 
 ious revival, 659. 
 
 Recognition of Kossuth by his hat, 587. 
 
 Kecognizing Parkman's charred and dismembered re- 
 mains, 5'-'5. 
 
 Koconnnendations by Pres. Grant for celebrating the 
 centennial, 9.")2, 900. 
 
 Recovery and illustrious career of Senator Sumner, 
 6-25. 
 
 Keil-coats, Gen. Jackson's warning to the, 263. 
 
 hot condition of the great comet, 429. 
 
 letter days in the century's history, 9. 
 
 tinted garniture of nature, Nov. 14, 1837, 380. 
 
 Redness of the sun and moon, May 19, 1780, 90. 
 
 Re-entombment of Washington's remains, 178. 
 
 Retiectiug over the Vicksburg problem. Gen. Grant, 
 624. 
 
 Reflection of the comet in the ocean, 426. 
 
 Refusal of the colonies to be unjustly taxed by Great 
 Britain, 65. 
 
 Refusing a commission of major-general, Sherman, 
 876. 
 
 Regatta, international, at Cowes, 558. 
 
 Regenerator of Central America, title applied to Gen. 
 Walker, 750. 
 
 Rt^gular ocean steamer, the first, 742. 
 —8 and volunteei's alike demoralized at Bull Run, 785. 
 
 RiciGN OF Tnii Vigilance Committee in California, 
 550-557. 
 
 (/•'or topical and analytical details, see first jjage of this 
 Event. ) 
 
 Reigning crowned heads, visit of, to the U. S., 954. 
 
 Relation of the cotton-gin to the themes and events of 
 American liistory. 159. 
 
 Relative equality of the Kearsarge and Alabama, 850. 
 
 Release of U. S. sailors in Japan demanded by Commo- 
 dore Biddle. 59o. 
 
 Relieving pain by the use of ether, 466. 
 
 — starvation in Ireland, 485. 
 
 Religious devotions resorted to on the " Dark Day," 89. 
 
 — world, great awakening in the, 653. 
 
 Reluctance of Washington to accept the presidency, 
 139. 
 
 Reluctantly attends the theater, on the fatal evening, 
 Pres. Lincoln, 889. 
 
 Remains of Dr. Parkman found in Prof. Webster's labor- 
 atory, 525. 
 
 Remark made by Washington to Knox, at Yorktown, 
 107. 
 
 Remedies proposed by grangers for business troubles, 
 943. 
 
 Remedy for murder and arson, the vigilance commit- 
 tee's, 551. 
 
 Remission of Bishop Onderdonk's sentence, 455. 
 
 Removal of Pres. Lincoln from Ford's theater, 891. 
 
 the deposits, Jackson's, from the U. S. Bank, 
 
 374. 
 
 Rendering the verdict in Prof. Webster's case, 528. 
 
 Rendezvous of the British at Ship Island, 259. 
 
 Renewal of the United States Bank charter, the opposi- 
 tion to, 374. 
 
 Ki'iio, Gen., his untimely death, 804. 
 
 Renovation of California society by " Lynch-law," 553. 
 
 Renown of Rev. H. W. Beecher as a preacher and 
 author, 946. 
 
 Repartee with his English hearers, Beecher's ready, 
 
 811. 
 Reply of John Paul Jones to the British commander, 
 83. 
 
 King George to Jolni Adams, 123. 
 
 McClellan to Burusido's request on the battle- 
 field, 803. 
 Reporting the battle of Antietam, 806. 
 Kepo>session of Fort Sumter by the U. S., 885. 
 
 REl'UaLlC OF THE UNITED STATES, BlBTH OF THE, 
 65. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page cf thit 
 Event.) 
 
 Repulse and retreat of the monster craft Merrimac, 
 795. 
 
 Reputed origin of Smith's " Divine Records," 307. 
 
 Requests for prayers at the revival meetings, 658. 
 
 Rescuing the women and children on board the Cen- 
 tral America, 636. 
 
 Residence of Gen. Washington in New York, 143. 
 
 Resignation by Washington as Commander in- 
 Chief, 115. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Resignation of his seat in congress, by P. S. Brooks. 623; 
 his inianimous re-election, 023; his speedy and ter- 
 rible death, 623; fate of his accomplices, 623. 
 
 Resolution of censure. Clay's, in the U. S. senate, .375. 
 
 Colonial Independence offered by Richard Henry 
 
 Lee, 66. 
 
 Resources of both armies tasked to their utmost at Vicks- 
 burg, 819. 
 
 Resplendent auroral glories spanning the whole hemi- 
 sphere, 382. 
 
 Responses in kind from embittered rivals, 509. 
 
 Resting-place on his march to the sea, Sherman's, 870. 
 
 Restoration of peace, grand celebration of in Boston in 
 1SG9, 915. 
 
 Results of the cotton-gin invention, 159. 
 
 Retirement of Washington as revolutionary leader, 
 112. 
 
 Retribution for the Barbary States, 183. 
 
 Retrospect of the century's annals, 11. 
 
 Returning the marriage-ring broken, 093. 
 
 — to his camp after his surrender, Gen. Lee, 883. 
 Revelations, alleged, from the unseen world, 477. 
 Reverses in the Indian wars, 146. 
 
 Revival movement, the great religious, 653. 
 Revolution, industrial, produced by the cotton-gin, 159. 
 Reynolds, Gen., his corps at Gettysburg, 827. 
 Rhapsody of Burr over his scheme of conquest, 206. 
 Rich men and paupers buried alike during the epidemic, 
 
 518. 
 made penniless in a single night, 357. 
 
 — prizes taken by the pirate Gibbs, 317. 
 Richardson, Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 781. 
 Richest spot in America burnt to ashes, 353. 
 Richmond. V.a., the confederate capital, capture of, by 
 
 the Union army, 877. 
 Ride out to his farms, last, by Gen. Washington, 175. 
 Riding from the White House to the theater, Pres. 
 
 Lincoln, 889. 
 
 — through the city of Richmond, Pres. Lincoln, 884. 
 
 — to jail at night. Prof Web.-^ter, 526. 
 
 Rig and points of the yacht America described, 566. 
 Right of petition, the struggle for, 302. 
 — s of political citizenship conferred upon the freed- 
 
 men, 816. 
 " Ring out the Old,— Ring in the New ! " 9. 
 l;in;:;ing the bell in Independence Hall, Phila., 67. 
 Rink, Moody and Sankey's meetings at the Brooklyn, 
 
 004 
 Riots at the Astor place opera-house, N. Y. , 508. 
 
998 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Rise and Progress of the Mormons, or " Latter- 
 Da y Saints," 306-313. 
 
 {For topical eind analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Rising and sinking of tlie ground in the great western 
 earthquake, 218. 
 
 — of the water lo the window tops, during the great 
 gnle, 2G5. 
 
 Rites of religion administered to the dying senator, 
 
 7:0. 
 Rivalry between the North and South in selecting a 
 
 revolutionary leader, 113. 
 Rlvas and Virgin Bay, Walker's battles at, 750. 
 Ko isting alive on the steamship Austria, 676. 
 Robinson, Richaid P., alleged niurdererof Helen Jewett, 
 
 631. 
 Rochester, N. Y., early spiritual manifestations at. 474. 
 Rock oil, tirst attempt to obtain, by sinking a well, G99. 
 — y Mountains, explorations of, 404. 
 Rogers, Captain, commands the first ocean steamer, 
 
 74:]. 
 Roman Catholic tribute to the value of Mr. Moody's 
 
 work, 602. 
 Root of the whole financial diflBculty, 651. 
 Rose-colored clouds of Judea observed by explorers, 
 
 491. 
 " Rosliu Castle," played at Washington's farewell to the 
 
 army, 116 
 Ross, General, his capture of Washington, 247. 
 Rosy illumination of the entire arch of the heavens, 
 
 380. 
 
 — protuberances during the solar eclipse, 201. 
 Rotunda of the capitol, Pres. Lincoln's remains in the, 
 
 893. 
 
 "Round eleven, and last," at the brutal prize-fight, 
 686. 
 
 Rousing the patriotism of the Nicaraguans, Gen. Walker, 
 749. 
 Southern forces at Bull Run, 781. 
 
 Bout and slaughter of the British at New Orleans, 257. 
 
 Rowing and warping in a calm, the Constitution, 227. 
 
 Royal civilities to John Adams, first minister to En- 
 gland, 123, 124. 
 
 — visitors to the first steamer fiom the U. S., 742. 
 Rudersdorfl's musical performances at the World's peace 
 
 jubilee, 923. 
 Ruins of the Pemberton Mills, scenes among the, 
 
 725. 
 Rule adopted by Com. Perry in naval battle, 236. 
 "Rule Britannia"— practical comment on by the yacht 
 
 "America," 559. 
 Rules established by Washington for the presidential 
 
 office, 145. 
 
 — observed on the dueling-ground, 193. 
 Rulings of the judge in tlie Brooklyn trial, 050. 
 Rum not necessary for heroism, 401. 
 Rumble of the dead-carts in the cities, 521. 
 Run upon the banks for specie, 619. 
 
 Running past the confederate batteries, Farragut, 
 8f;2. 
 
 Runyon, Gen., at the battle of Bull Run, 782. 
 
 Rupture between the two greatest of modern tragedians, 
 509. 
 
 Rush for the spoils by the British army in Washington, 
 247. 
 — , his account of W.ishington's wr.ath at St. Clair's de- 
 feat, 149. 
 
 Rushing from liis house in a frenzy, Mr. Sickles, 692. 
 
 — out their victims from the roof-beams, the vigilance 
 eommittee, .557. 
 
 Rtissia acknowledges the independence of the U. S., 
 71. 
 — 's sword makes Kossuth an exile, 586. 
 
 s. 
 
 Sacking of the presidential mansion by the British, 
 
 247. 
 Sacrament administered to Alexander Hamilton, 195. 
 Sacramento, Cal., great tire in, 353. 
 Sad confession of her guilt by Mrs. Sickles, 691. 
 Safety of Union men's lives under Pres. Jackson, 328. 
 Sailing 90,000 miles in four years, 386. 
 
 — under the black flag, 316. 
 
 — whde enveloped in fuiious flames, 674. 
 Saint Clair, his defeat by the Indians, 148. 
 
 Salvos of- artillery, chords of music, rounds of cheers, 
 
 919. 
 
 on Comwallis's surrender, 110. 
 
 Salt Lake City, the Mormon Zion, 313. 
 Samoan group, Wilkes's survey of, 389. 
 San Francisco, calamitous fire in, 353. 
 
 , earthquakes in, 223. 
 
 Sandwich Islands, visit of the king of the, 954. 
 
 Sanguinary programme against America, 242. 
 
 Sanguine expectations of Lord Coniwallis, 104. 
 
 Sanitary fair, Pres. Lincoln's gift to the, 815. 
 
 Sankey, Mr., his popular religious songs, 664. 
 
 Santa Anna's flight in the dead of midnight, 493. 
 
 Sapping and mining at Vicksburg, 819. 
 
 Saratog.a, encampment of Burgoyne's army at, 75. 
 
 Sarcasm (characterizing John Randolph, 283. 
 
 " Satisfaction" on the dueling-ground, 289. 
 
 Savages enlisted by Gen. Burgoyne, 73. 
 
 Savannah, Ga., capture of, by Slierm m's army, 875. 
 
 "Save the admiral! Save the adn)iral! " 865. 
 
 Saving the vast treasures of tetate street from the fire, 
 
 933. 
 
 — s-bank excitement in the great panic, 649. 
 Scanning the b.attle-tield in the midst of action, 
 
 McClellau, 803. 
 Scarlet columns of dazzling beauty rising from the hoi i- 
 
 zon, 380. 
 Scheme devised by Benedict Arnold for betraying his 
 
 country, PS. 
 
 — for making Washington a king, 115. 
 
 — to free the slaves, John Br.iwn's. 715. 
 
 Scene of horror at Foid's theater, on the night of the 
 a!!S<issination, 891. 
 
 School house catastrophe in New York, 567. 
 
 Schurz, Carl, his centennial oration at St. Louis, 964. 
 
 Schuyler. Gen., his operations against Burgoyne, 75. 
 
 Science, contributions to, by Wilkes's exploring expedi- 
 tion. ,380. 
 
 Scientific perfection of the present telegraphic system, 
 351. 
 
 — preparations for observing the eclipse 199. 
 
 Scope of this volume— wonders and prodigies, mcTi and 
 events, 0. 
 
 Scorching reply to Senator Butler, by Senator Sumner, 
 017. 
 
 Scott, Gen., in the Halls of the Montezumas, 487. 
 
 Scourge of the cholera and yellow fever, 518. 
 
 "Scourge of the ocean," name given to Gibbs, 315. 
 
 Scouring the country in pursuit of Booth, 895. 
 
 Screech from the confederate army on commencing bat- 
 tle, 828. 
 
 Scriptural evidence of his views cited by Wm. Miller, 
 437. 
 
 " Sea of Death," examination of the, 499. 
 
 Tiberias crossed by the American explorers, -195. 
 
 fowls driven hundreds of miles into the interioi by 
 
 the galo, 268. 
 serpent, its appear.ance in several places, .'576. 
 
 Seaboanl destruction by the memorable gale, 2(i8. 
 
 Scaled paper handed Benton by Randolph before the 
 duel, 285. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 999 
 
 Sealing their fate at Cemetery Hill, confederate troops, 
 
 Soaich by Americans for Sir John Franklin, the lost 
 navigator, 3.13. 
 
 — for Dr. Parkniaii, llio missing millionaire, 524. 
 
 — made for stars during ibe loial solar eclipse, 201. 
 Seat of governmunt, plans for ihu location of the, 1C8. 
 
 the U. S. government at New York, 142. 
 
 war transferred fnnn the South to the North, 
 
 626. 
 Seating himsflf in the felon's dock, Prof. Webster, 
 
 527. 
 Seclusion of Japan broken into. 592. 
 Second advent of Christ predicted. 431. 
 
 — ch.tpter in the IJurdellCunningham tragedy, 631. 
 Secret of the gold tindings disclosed through whiskey, 
 
 505. 
 Secrel;iry Upshur's instant and awful death, 441. 
 Sectarian prejudice and disputation ignored by Mr. 
 
 Mo'idy, 061. 
 Secular pursuits abandoned during the "Dark Day," 
 
 89. 
 Sedgwick, Theodore, president of the N. Y. Association 
 
 of the Industry of All Nations, 602. 
 — 's, Gen., corps at Gettysburg, 834. 
 Seditions, violent, in New Kngland, after the revolution- 
 ary war, 126. 
 Seduction of Mrs Sickles by P. B. Key, tragical result of 
 
 the, 690. 
 Seizure of Burr's flotilla, 207. 
 Selection of Mr. Brooks as their champion by aggrieved 
 
 Southerners, 618. 
 Seminole Indians, war with, 147. 
 Senimes, Captain, in command of the Alabama, 851; 
 
 tights and is sunk by the Kearsarge, 856. 
 Sending .John Morrissey to congress, 682; his modest and 
 
 genllcmanly bearing there, 688. 
 Seneca Indians, war wih the. 146. 
 Sensation of a Peniberton Mills operative on seeing the 
 
 vast structuie giving way, 726. 
 
 — produced by the murder of Helen Jewett, 634. 
 — , unprecedented, in the religious world, 448. 
 
 Sent to the bottom at last, the Alabama, 856. 
 
 Sentence ot the conspirators against Pres. Lincoln, 
 
 898. 
 September gale, the ever-memorable, 264. 
 Sepulchral scene in the presidential East room, 445. 
 Sequel to a life of inf.imy, 631. 
 Series of victorious battles, Grant's, 818. 
 Serious objection, supposed, to Whitney's cotton-gin, 
 
 157. 
 Services of Aaron Burr to his country, 190. 
 Setting up his government at Danville, Jeff. Davis, 
 
 884. 
 Settling some matters of ceremony with the Japanese, 
 
 594. 
 Seven circles bv the Alabama and Kearsarge around 
 
 each other, 855. 
 Seven days' deliberation of the Brooklyn jury, 950. 
 from New York to San Francisco, 914. 
 
 — fine children and their parents jump from the burn- 
 ing ship, 676. 
 
 — States secede from the Union and form a Southern 
 Confederacy, 771. 
 
 — years' labor, the Boston organ the result of, 844. 
 Seventeen British ensigns disappear in two hours, 
 
 256. 
 Seventy-five thousand volunteers called for by Pres. 
 Lincoln, 771. 
 three miles of streets burned in Chicago 929. 
 
 — tons, weight of the great Boston organ. 848. 
 Severe denunciation of the U. S. bank by Pres. Jackson, 
 
 374. 
 
 Seward, Hon. W. H., Payne's attempt to assassinate, 
 897. 
 
 Sewing-machine, the, constructed at las*, 466. 
 
 Shadowing forth tlie new political doctrine, 321. 
 
 Shaking hands before the tight, (i8'2. 
 with their late leader, Lee's officers, 883. 
 
 Shays's rebellion in Massachusetts, 125; suppressed by 
 Gen. Lincoln, 131. 
 
 "She sings like one immortal !" — applied to Jenny 
 Uin\, 542. 
 
 Sheet of lire and death covering the British at New Or- 
 leans, 261. 
 
 Sheridan, Gen., at Five Forks, 879. 
 — 's splendid military capacity, 878. 
 
 Sherman's grand march through the South, 868. 
 
 Shifting his flag in the midst of battle, 238. 
 
 Ship Arctic deserted by her crew, 610. 
 
 — of war changed to a ship of peace, 481. 
 mimed in honor of Lafayette, 281. 
 
 Shippen, Miss, her betrothal to Benedict Arnold, 98. 
 Ships Serapis and Bon Homme Richard meeting each 
 
 other, 82. 
 Shock and " glory " of war on a colossal scale, 803. 
 — s of earthquake, 224. 
 
 Shooting stars, wonderful November shower of, 329. 
 Shore-end of the ocean telegraph cable, laying of at 
 
 Valentia Bay, 904. 
 Short work, Gibbs's, with his captured crews, 317. 
 Shot in the breast, Senator Broderick, 710. 
 Shouting for the passing vessel 638. 
 Shovel used in moving the first earth for the Union 
 
 Pacific railroad. 909. 
 Shower of meteoric bodies all over the land, 335. 
 Showing the first grains of gold to Mr. Sutter, 505. 
 Shrieks of horror at the wonderful meteoric display, 
 
 330. 
 Shrouding the land in mourning, April 15, 1865, 892. 
 Shuddering at the name of Gibbs, 314. 
 Shunning the magistrates, prize-fighters, 682. 
 '• Sic semper tyrannis !" Booth's tragical shout, 890. 
 Sick man's help, a, in battle, 237. 
 Sickles, Hon. Daniel E., his homicide of P. B. Key, 
 
 689. 
 Side-light scenes in our country's history, 12. 
 Sierra mountain tops, first railroad across the, 908. 
 
 — Nevada, expedition to the, 405. 
 Sighting the first gun before battle, 254. 
 
 Signals of defiance from the frigate Guerriere, 228. 
 Signing his name for the last time, Pres. Lincoln, 889. 
 
 — the Declaration of Independence, 71. 
 Federal Constitution, 137. 
 
 temperance pledge, 400. 
 
 treaty, Japanese and American commissioners, 
 
 598. 
 Silencing Mr. Beecher, attempts of English mobs at, 
 
 838. 
 Silliman, Prof , his opinion of the origin of petroleum, 
 705. 
 
 — , — , his scientific observation, 379. 
 Similarities in the career of Adams and Jefferson. 291. 
 Simnii Boojsen Nokami and Mooragaki Aw.ijsi Nokami, 
 
 Japanese ambassadors, 738. 
 Simple accident that led to finding California gold, 504. 
 
 — principle of the electric telegraph, 346. 
 
 Simpson, Bishop, devotional exercises by, at the centen- 
 nial exposition, 952 
 
 Simultaneous deaths of ex-Presidents John Adams and 
 Thomas Jefferson, 291. 
 
 — shriek of agony from five hundred voices, 636. 
 Singer's loan of forty dollars ; his subsequent princely 
 
 wealth, 469. 
 Singing the Grand Hallelujah Chorus at the World's 
 Fair, 605. 
 
1000 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Singing the " Old Hundredth Psalm " at the centennial, 
 960. 
 
 " Sink-holes," remarkable, formed by the western earth- 
 quake, 222. 
 
 Sinking of the iU-fated Guerriere, 229. 
 
 noble steamship Arctic stern foremost, 610. 
 
 wells for petroleum, 700. 
 
 Sisterly devotion displayed at the Chicago conflagra- 
 tion, 930. 
 
 Site for a national capital, Washington's preference, 
 169. 
 
 Six feet of water in the streets during the great Sept. 
 gale, 268. 
 
 — bearses at the White House, 445. 
 
 — hundred thousand temperance converts, 400. 
 
 — months in court, the Beecher trial, 915. 
 ' labor in a garret, Howes, 466. 
 
 — reformed drunkards, the, of Baltimore, 395. 
 
 — thousand teams engaged on the Pacific railroad, 908. 
 voices, the capacity of the Boston organ, 847. 
 
 Sixteen hours' raging fire in K. Y., in midwinter, 353. 
 Sixty centuries of human advancement illustrated at 
 Philadelphia, 952. 
 
 five acres of massive structures consumed in Bos- 
 ton, 936. 
 seven degrees below zero, 536. 
 
 — thousand dollars paid for the great Boston organ, 
 845. 
 
 voices cheering General Grant, 918. 
 
 Size and profusion of the Nov. meteors, 336. 
 
 — of Washington's limbs, 180. 
 Slaughter of the innocents, 567. 
 
 Slaves liberated by Pres. Lincoln's proclamation, 807. 
 
 Sleeping on the field of victory, 803. 
 
 Slight source of a wholesale horror, 568. 
 
 Slocum's wing in Sherman's army, 871. 
 
 Small amount of gold in the world prior to the Cali- 
 fornia findings, 503. 
 
 Smalley's account of the battle of Antietam, 805. 
 
 Smarting of the hands and face caused by the Dead Sea 
 waters, 497. 
 
 Smith, Joseph, founder of the Mormon sect, 307. 
 
 Smithsonian Institute, exhibit of at the centennial, 
 958. 
 
 Social customs in former times, 394. 
 
 — intercourse suspended during the yellow fever panic, 
 518. 
 
 — tragedy in Brooklyn, N. Y., 945. 
 
 " Society of California Pioneers," 501. 
 
 " Society of the Cincinnati," song sung by Hamilton 
 
 before the, 192. 
 Solar eclipse, total, at mid-day, 196. 
 Solemnities on board the Somers after the executions, 
 
 423. 
 Solemnity inspired by the total solar eclipse, 199. 
 Solicitude of the telegraph layers on board the Great 
 
 Ea.stern, 903. 
 Solid granite warehouses consumed by the hundreds in 
 
 Boston, 932. 
 Solitary event in American naval history, 415. 
 Solving the mystery of the spirit rappings, 473. 
 Somers mutiny, the tragedy of the, 415. 
 Soiiora fillibustering expedition under Gen. Walker, 
 
 748. 
 Sore trials of inventors and public benefactors, 467. 
 Sorrow and anguish among the Austria's five hundred 
 
 souls, 676. 
 Source of national wealth and industry, new, 698. 
 South Carolina, enthut^iasm in, at the passage of the 
 
 Declaration of Independence, 69. 
 nullification outbreak, 320. 
 
 — Pass, Fremont's party at tlie, 403. 
 
 — Pole expedition, Wilkes's, 386. 
 
 Southern Confederacy, establishment of, 765. 
 
 — strides in wealth, after the cotton-gin invention, 
 159. 
 
 Souvenirs for his friends, Randolph's, in case of death, 
 
 285. 
 Sovereigns of Industry, 943. 
 Sovereignty of the State, supreme, claimed in South 
 
 Carolina, 320. 
 Spain acknowledges the independence of the U. S , 71. 
 Spangler, trial of for assassination conspiracy, 897. 
 Spanning the Atlantic ocean with the telegraph cable, 
 
 904. 
 Sparkling tribute from John Bright to Mr. Field's tele- 
 graphic triumph, 906. 
 Special request that the fatal Stockton gun be fired, 
 
 442. 
 Specific day fixed for the end of the world, 437. 
 Spectroscopic discoveries during the total scl J eclipse, 
 
 201. 
 Speculating in " fancies," 601. 
 Speech of Daniel Webster in reply to Hayne, 300. 
 
 at the laying of the corner-stone of the 
 
 Bunker Hill monument, 279. 
 
 Dr. Franklin before the convention for forming 
 
 the Federal Constitution, 136. 
 
 Gen. Walker, before being shot, 755. 
 
 Gen. Washington, bidding adieu to the army, 
 
 116. 
 
 , resigning his commission, 117. 
 
 John Adams advocating Washington's nomina- 
 tion, 113. 
 
 on being presented to King George, 123; and 
 
 the King's reply, 123. 
 
 John Brown in court, on his conviction, 720. 
 
 John Quincy Adams defending the right of peti- 
 tion, 369. 
 
 King George acknowledging American Independ- 
 ence, 121. 
 
 Lord Chatham advocating America's cause, 70. 
 
 against America, 70. 
 
 Patrick Henry, on American Independence, 66. 
 
 Mr. Evarts, orator at the national centennial cel- 
 ebration, 960. 
 
 Pres. Grant at the centennial inauguration cere- 
 monies, 952. 
 
 John Quincy Adams, on Lafayette's departure, 
 
 280. 
 
 Preston S. Brooks in his defense, 623. 
 
 the ambassador from Japan to Pres. Buchanan, 
 
 739; the president's reply, 739. 
 
 Washington, at his inauguration, 144. 
 
 Speechless and unconscious after the fatal shot, Pres. 
 
 Lincoln, 891. 
 Speedy fulfillment of the earth's destiny predicted, 434. 
 Spell-bound by Jenny Lind's musical power, 546. 
 Spikes of the richest gold used in finishing the Pacific 
 
 railroad, 911. 
 Spiritual Knockings and Table-Tippings. 472- 
 
 477. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first parje of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Spirituous liquors, Washington's opinion of, ."^93. 
 Splendor of the N. Y. Industrial Hxhibition, 607. 
 
 national capitol, 172. 
 
 Splicing the telegraph cable in mid-ocean, 903. 
 Spontaneous desire for Washington as first president, 
 139. 
 
 — uprising of the loyal people, 771. 
 Spontaneousnessof the great religious awakening, 654. 
 Spot wliere Senator Broderick fell, 707. 
 
 Spots of solemn beauty on the banks of tlie Jordan, 
 496. 
 
 — on the sun observed before the total eclipse, 200. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 1001 
 
 Spread of the Boston Are in all directions, 933. 
 
 temperance reform, 398. 
 
 Springfield, Mass., Shays's dispersion of the court in, 
 
 130 
 Springing a lealc, the steamer Central America, 636. 
 Squadron combat between America and England, 234. 
 .Square talk by Farragut concerning his country's ene- 
 mies, 865. 
 St Ix)uis, disastrous fire in, 353. 
 
 , the Prince of Wales a guest of the city of, 758. 
 
 Stakes between the great prize-tighters, 081. 
 Standards by the score captured at Gettysburg, 834. 
 Standing by the batteries. 831. 
 
 — in Independence Hall, Kossutli, 589. 
 
 Stands of colors presented by congress to Washing- 
 ton, 110. 
 
 Stanton, Secretary, at the death-bed of Pres. Lincoln, 
 891. 
 
 Star actors, English and American, tragical feud be- 
 tween, 508. 
 
 " Star Spangled Banner " composed by the elder Mr. 
 Key, 690. 
 
 Stark's defeat of the British, at Bennington, 75. 
 
 — spurs at the centennial, 958. 
 
 " Stars of destiny," Gen. Walker's belief in, 748. 
 Stars seen through the comet's train, 429. 
 
 — visible during the eclipse, 197. 
 
 State occasions, dress of Washington on, 180. 
 street, Boston, treasures of, reached by the great 
 
 fire, 933. 
 Statements of eye-witnesses of the sea-serpent, 577. 
 States and cities conquered by Gen. Sherman without a 
 
 serious battle, 868. 
 Statesmen and sages in council, 133. 
 Stature and physique, Washington's magnificent, 180. 
 Steam successfully applied to navigation, 215. 
 Steamer Central America, foundering o£E Cape Hat- 
 
 teras, 635. 
 
 — Mississippi conveys Kossuth to America, 586. 
 Steamship Arctic, loss of, 608. 
 
 — Austria, burning of the, on her way from Hamburg to 
 New York, 673. 
 
 — Great Eastern, arrival and exhibition of in the U. S., 
 748. 
 
 Steel prow of the Merrimac, terrible havoc made by the, 
 
 791. 
 Steers, George, designs the famous yacht America, 559. 
 Stephens, Alex. H., his defense of the U.S. government, 
 
 764. 
 Stevens, Com. J. C, in command of the yacht America, 
 
 558. 
 Stevenses, the, their success in steam-boat experiments, 
 
 217. 
 Stigma of "blackleg" applied by Randolph to Clay, 
 
 283. 
 Stockton's great gun " the Peacemaker," explosion of, 
 
 439. 
 Stores and guns, supplying the Alabama with, 853. 
 Storming of Vicksburg abandoned, 818. 
 Storrs, K. S., centennial orator in New York, 904. 
 Story of Gibbs, the pirate, as told by himself, 318. 
 the plaintiff and defendant in the Beecher trial, 
 
 949. 
 Strain endured by Rarey in his contests with wild horses, 
 
 779. 
 Straining his eyes toward Fort McAllister, Sherman, 
 
 874. 
 Stranding of a young sea-serpent on the coast, 581. 
 Strange and beautiful omen before the Lake Champlain 
 
 battle, 253. 
 threatening motion of the comet, 425. 
 
 — theories of the cause of the " Dark Day," 95. 
 Strategic importance of Vicksburg in the war, 824. 
 
 Strauss's orchestra at the international musical festival, 
 923. 
 
 Stray document in the convention for framing the Fed- 
 eral Constitution, 135. 
 
 Street encounter between Sickles and Key, 692. 
 —8 and avenues of Washington, magnificence of the, 
 172. 
 
 Strength of the American and British fleets on Lake 
 Champlain, 252. 
 
 confederate forces at Bull Run, unexpected, 
 
 781. 
 
 Strengthening the federal capital on the breaking out of 
 the rebellion, 771. 
 
 Stringent statutes enacted against prize-fighting, 681. 
 
 Strong gale prevailing at the Chicago fire, 925. 
 
 Struck down in his seat in the senate chamber, 616. 
 the zenith of fame, 455. 
 
 Struggle FOR the Right of Petition in Congress, 
 362-372. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Struggles of Eli Whitney to secure Lis cotton-gin inven- 
 tion, 157. 
 
 Stuart's picture of Gen. Washington saved from the Brit- 
 ish torch, 248. 
 
 Stubborn bravery of the Hartford and Tennessee, 863. 
 
 Studying the principle of steam navigation, 213. 
 
 Style of " sport " in the prize-ring, 683. 
 
 Subjugation of New England sought by England in 
 1814, 250. 
 
 Sublime and inspiring harmonies from ten thousand 
 voices, 917. 
 
 Sublime Meteoric Shower all over the United 
 States, 329-336. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Submerged plains at the Dead Sea bottom, 498. 
 
 Submergence of hills 'and islands during the western 
 earthquake, 221. 
 
 Submission of the Barbary States to America, 188. 
 
 Submitting the proclamation of emancipation to the 
 cabinet, 809. 
 
 Subsisting his army on the enemy's country, Sherman, 
 870. 
 
 Substitute for grog, Farragut's, 401. 
 middlemen in trade, grangers', 939. 
 
 Substituting corn for guns, 482. 
 
 Success of Whitney's cotton-gin invention, 156. 
 
 Successful Laying of the Telegraph Cable 
 across the Atlantic Ocean, 899-906. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Succession of vivid auroras and parhelias in the Arctic, 
 535. 
 
 Successive great and terrible waves drag the Central 
 America under, 635. 
 
 Successor to Franklin in pleading the cause of the Re- 
 public, 8.36. 
 
 Succumbing of Downie's fleet to McDonough, 256. 
 
 Sucked in by the whirlpool, 637. 
 
 Sudden and tumultuous force of the great gale, 267. 
 
 Sudden Appearance of a Great and Fiery Co.met 
 IN THE Skies at Noonday, 424-429. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Sufferings of war ameliorated by ether, 459. 
 
 Suffocating crowds at the Beecher trial, 945. 
 
 Suffocation of birds during the "Dark Day," 89. 
 nearly fifty children to death, 573. 
 
 Suffrage movement in Rhode Island, principles of, 
 411. 
 
 Suicide attempted by Prof. Webster on being arrested, 
 527. 
 
1002 
 
 INL»EX. 
 
 Suicide rather than death by burning, 728. 
 
 Suit of clothes, machine made, the first ever worn, 466. 
 
 Sulphuric ether as an ansestheiic, 457. 
 
 Sullan, the, Lis courtesies to Lieut. Lynch's party, 495. 
 
 Summary of the splendid achievements of Dr. Kane's 
 
 party, 538. 
 Summit of the Cordilleras, the unbroken and oppressive 
 
 silence at, 388. 
 Sumner, Charles, assault upon, 616. 
 Sumptuous banquet given by congress to Kossuth, 589. 
 Sumter, Fort, its bombardment and reduction, 764. 
 Sun, total eclipse of, 196. 
 Sunday's battle olT Cherbourg, 852. 
 Sunken country, at the west, caused by the earthquake, 
 
 223. 
 Sunny excitement and delight all over the land produced 
 
 by Jenny Lind's tour, 541. 
 Superb naval taciics of Com. John Paul Jones, 86. 
 Supernatural pretensions of Smith,the ISIormon leader, 
 
 307. 
 Supply of petroleum oil for the whole world, 703. 
 Supplies of men and money by Franco, for the colonies, 
 
 80. 
 Supposed fire in a N. Y. school-house, dreadful panic 
 
 caused by a, 568. 
 Supreme crisis in the fate of the nation, 771. 
 
 — rank of General conferred upon U. S. Grant, 885. 
 Surgery-tortures no longer necessary, 456. 
 Surmounting the works at Vicksburg, Illinois troops, 820. 
 Surprise of St. Clair's army by the Indians, 148. 
 Surratt, John H., trial of, for assassination conspiracy, 
 
 898. 
 
 — , Mrs., trial and execution of, for consiiiraoy, 808. 
 Surrender of Lee's great army to General Grant, 883. 
 Survey of the river Jordan, 496. 
 Suspension from office of the Bishop of N. Y., 454. 
 
 — of banks all over the land, 648. 
 
 business during the earthquake, 223. 
 
 Sutter's Mil), Cal., discovery of gold at, 504. 
 
 Swallowing a bitter pill, 328. 
 
 Swamping of the Austria's boate, 671. 
 
 Swamps, hills, quagmires, storms and floods, overcome 
 by Sherman's army. 875. 
 
 Swarming of felons in California, in its early history, 
 550. 
 
 Swarms of bold robbers at the fire, 358. 
 
 Sweden acknowledges the independence of America, 
 71. 
 
 "Swedish Nightingale," the, name applied to Jenny 
 Lind, 541. 
 
 Sweep of Sherman's armed columns, 871. 
 
 Sweet and tender devotion of the little ones in the 
 school-house panic, 570. 
 
 Swift and terrible destruction of frigates by the iron- 
 clad Merrimac, 792. 
 executions in California. 552. 
 
 Sword presented by Frederick the Great to Gen. "Wash- 
 ington, 180. 
 
 Sympathetic meetings in Senator Sumner's behalf, 621. 
 
 T. 
 
 Table-tippings and knockings, 472. 
 
 Tableaux of a century's history, 12. 
 
 " Take the life of no one, if possible," John Brown's 
 
 order, 716. 
 Taking his countrymen by the hand, 588. 
 
 — off Andre's boots. 100. 
 
 — passage on Fulton's first steam-boat, 216. 
 
 Tiiking the blame to himself. Gen. Walker, 755. 
 oath, Washington, at his inauguration, 144. 
 
 Talk of an American with the emperor of Japan, 599. 
 
 Tampering with a uiau of honor, 410. 
 
 Tariff discussions and strife, 321. 
 
 Tarriiigs and featherings in the Penn insurrection, 161. 
 
 Task of uniting the old world and new by telegraph 
 cable, 903. 
 
 Taunts and curses of the anti-Union mobs in En- 
 gland, 838. 
 
 Taylor, Bayard, his centennial ode, 960. 
 — , Gen., his unbroken series of victorious battles, 490, 
 
 Te Deums sung in Southern churc hes for battles won, 
 788. 
 
 Teachings of the Mormon bible, 308. 
 
 Tearing up Gen. Sherman's protest. Gen. Grant, 825. 
 
 Tears and mourning, a whole nation in, 892. 
 
 — shed by Cornwallis, at the fate before him, 107. 
 Tecumseh, Indian chief, war with, 147. 
 
 '• Teetotalism," origin of, 394. 
 
 Telegram to Pres. Grant announcing the completion of. 
 
 the Pacific railroad. 912. 
 Telegraph cable successfully laid across the bed of the 
 
 Atlantic, 904. 
 — , invention of the electric, 315. 
 Telegraphing his fate to Jeff Davis, Gen. Lee, 884. 
 
 — religious tidings during the great revival, 056. 
 Telescopic instruments, splendid, used in observing the 
 
 eclipse. 199. 
 
 " Tell Gen Burnside that this is the bittle of the war," 
 McClellan's message. 803. 
 
 Telling his own story. Gen. Sherman, 868. 
 
 Temperance reformation, the, breaking outand progress 
 of, 393. 
 
 Temple erected by the Mormons, 313. 
 
 Temporary rescue from the hands of the vigilance com- 
 mittee, 554. 
 
 Ten hours of chess with eight opponents, Morphy's tri- 
 umphant game of, 668. 
 
 — -million-dollar mass of silver at the centennial, 
 958. 
 
 — thousand persons assembled to welcome Jenny 
 Lind's arrival, 545. 
 
 — thousand persons present at Moody and Sankey's 
 first meeting in Phila., 6G4 
 
 — thousand singers in the coliseum at Boston. 919. 
 
 — years of difficulty and failure in ocean telegraphy 
 conquered at last, 904. 
 
 Tendency of the phenomena of spiritualism, 476. 
 Tender butstvong h.ands, 727. 
 
 — treatment of Mrs. Benedict Arnold by Washington, 
 103. 
 
 Tennessee, Admiral Buchanan's monster ram, 864. 
 
 Tent of Washington, reception of Lafayette in the, 
 277. 
 
 Tenuity of the meteors in the great November display, 
 332. 
 
 Termination of the second war with England, 257. 
 
 Terms of adjustment to be arranged by gunpowder, 488. 
 surrender .allowed by Grant to Lee, 882. 
 
 Terrible Cri.sfs in the Business and Financial 
 World, 644-6.52. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Terrible Fire in the Business Heart of Boston, 
 931-9,57. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Terror inspired abroad by John Paul Jones's naval ex- 
 ploits, 82. 
 — , reign of, in Pennsylvania, during the whiskey in- 
 surrection, 163. 
 
 Terry, Gen., his achievements at Fort Fisher, 867. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 100 
 
 Terry, Judge, fatally wouiuls Senator Broderlck in a 
 
 du«l, 710. 
 Test in brealiing horses, Mr. Karcy's explanation of liis, 
 
 775. 
 Tesliinonygis'en by Senator Sun)ner relating to Brooks's 
 
 assault, ()19. 
 Testing a treaty on the spot, 598. 
 Th mksgiving appointed for Southern victories, 788. 
 That " one touch of nature," 009. 
 " The battle of the war," 803. 
 "The Drum," Hamilton's favorite song, 192. 
 The Ever-Memoradle Septemuek Gale, 1815,264- 
 
 271. 
 For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 " Tlie fate of the ship shall be mine," 614. 
 "The Federal Union: it Must be I'reserved," Jackson's 
 
 toast, 3Ln. 
 The "Great Awakexixg" in the Rfxigious 
 
 World in 1857; and the Popur.Ait Hevival Move- 
 ment (IN 1875-6) UNDER Messrs. Moody and 
 
 Sankev, 053-6G5. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 The "Great Debate" between Webster and 
 
 Hayne, in Congress, 297-305. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 "The Great Panic," 644. 
 {For topiciil and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 The Natio.\.\l Grange Movement, 9.38-914. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event. ) 
 " The Pathfinder," Fremont's well-earned title of, 402. 
 " The ship is on fire ! " — panic cry on every hand, 674. 
 The solitary bumble-bee on the Rocky Mountain 
 
 peak, 404. 
 " The Star Spangled Banner, " circumstances of its 
 
 composition, 249. 
 " The Washington of the Seas," John Paul Jones's 
 
 title, 81. 
 Theater, Ford's, scene of horror on the night of the 
 
 assassination in, 891. 
 
 — in Richmond, Va., burning of the. 354. 
 
 — of war transferred from the South to the North, 
 826. 
 
 — turned into a house of prayer, 658. 
 
 Theodosia, Burr's daughter, her devotion to him, 210; 
 
 mysterious fate of, 211. 
 Theories as to the origin and source of oetroleum, 705. 
 
 — of Agassiz. Herschel, etc., concerning spiritual 
 manifestations, 475. 
 
 Thermometer, fall of the, during the total solar eclipse, 
 
 •JOl. 
 Thiid street, Philadelphia, during the great panic, 646. 
 Thiiteeu bundled miles traveled in the open air by 
 
 Kane's party, 538. 
 Thirty houis' tornado of fire in all directions at Chicago, 
 
 929. 
 
 — minutes required by Hull to capture the Guerriere, 
 229. 
 
 — years' history of cpiritualism, 477. 
 
 Thomas, Gen , defense of the bonier States by, 870. 
 
 Threatening letter sent by Arnold to Washington, 102. 
 
 Three cheers for a brave leader, 490. 
 
 Three Days' Battle between the Concen- 
 trated Armies of Generals Meade and Lee, 
 at Gettysburg, Tenn., 826-835. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Three days' chase of the Constitution by Biitish vessels, 
 227. 
 
 Three decks of the Austria instantly become a sheet ol 
 tiro, t74. 
 
 — fair and beautiful corpses tight together, 728. 
 " Three hearty cheers for the tlag," 423. 
 
 — hours' minute and deliberate examination of the 
 sea-serpent, 580. 
 
 — hours' struggle with an English audience, Beecher's, 
 838. 
 
 — miles of troops in flight at Bull Run, 784. 
 
 — plunges and the noble ship sinks, 637. 
 
 — years' illness of Senator Sumner, C2.5. 
 
 parliamentary struggle, Benton's, in the U. S. 
 
 senate. 375. 
 Thrill of e( stasy at the sight of a vessel, 638. 
 enthusiastic joy at the success of the ether dis- 
 covery, 457. 
 Thronging crowds to hear Mr. Webster's reply to 
 
 Hay no, 299. 
 Throwing away his purse of gold while drowning, 614, 
 
 — up the .«ponne in token of defeat, (86. 
 
 Throws his sword away and jumps overboard, Capt. 
 
 Senimes, 856. 
 Thunder of American guns before Tripoli, 182. 
 Tickets to Jenny Lind's conceits, highest pi iced, 546. 
 Tieonderoga. investment of. by Gen. Hurgn>ne, 74. 
 Tide of emigration to California fiom all countries, 
 
 501. 
 
 — seventeen feet higher than usual during the New 
 England gale, 267. 
 
 — , vast and unprecedented, during the great flood, 
 
 269. 
 Tidings of Washington's death, 174. 
 Ties of affection sundered while the cholera prevailed, 
 
 517. 
 Tilton, Theodore, bis charges against H. W. Beecher, 
 
 945. 
 Time, manner, and circumstances of the first spirit 
 
 knockings, 473. 
 marks in our earlier history, 10, 
 
 — to test the strength of the Constitution, 325. 
 Timely witticism of Ji secretary of war, 442, 
 Times that tried men's souls, 12. 
 Tippecanoe, battle of, 152. 
 
 ,,'Tls well," Washington's last words, 177. 
 
 Title given the president by the Japanese visitors, 737. 
 
 Tohopeka, battle of, 152. 
 
 Toils of the sewing-machine inventor, 4C6. 
 
 Tokens of honor received by Fremont for Lis exploring 
 achievements, 402. 
 
 Tolling of the vigilance committee's signal bell, 5.52. 
 
 " Tom the Tinker," insurgent leader in Penn., 163. 
 
 Tomb of Washington, 178; visited by Lafayette, 280. 
 — s and graves consumed in the appalling fire at Chi- 
 cago, 926. 
 
 Tomes, Dr., his admirable historical delineations, 236. 
 
 Tommy, the ladies' pet among the Japanese visitors, 738. 
 
 Tone, countenance, and manner peculiar to Webster, 
 302. 
 
 Too busy to be marrying people in times of epidemic, 
 520. 
 
 Topical or classified list of events in this volume, 49. 
 
 Torch of the British vandals at Washington, 248. 
 
 Tories, American, in the revolutionary war, 69. 
 
 Torrent of rain for forty hours, 271. 
 
 Tortiire and death in every form, 676. 
 
 Total revolution in naval v/arfare by the Monitor's buc- 
 ce.is. 797. 
 
 Total Solar Eclipse at Mid-Day, 196-203. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Touching reply of Captain Herndon's wife. 643. 
 
 — request of a dying girl in the mid>t of the ruins, 
 729. 
 
1004 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Touching scene between Washington and his comrades- 
 in-arms, 116. 
 
 Tour of 5,000 miles, Lafayette's, in America, 280. 
 
 Tour of His Royal Highness, Albert Edward, 
 Prince of Wales, through the United States, 
 756-764. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Towers, domes and sculptures, of the great Boston or- 
 gan, 848. 
 
 Towns and cities springing up in the oil regions, 698. 
 
 Traces of Sir John Franklin's melancholy fate, 534. 
 
 Tracing the Jordan to its source, 495. 
 
 Trade-customs' reform demanded by the grangers, 941. 
 
 Tragical death of Smith, the Mormon leader, 312. 
 
 — fate of the conspirators against Pres. Lincoln's life, 
 898. 
 
 Train of cars on the top of the Sierras, the first, 908. 
 Training for the prize-ring, 682. 
 
 Trans- Atlantic steam navigation, inauguration of, 742. 
 Transcendent beauty and power of Jenny Lind's sing- 
 ing, 542. 
 
 — cliapter in human history, 7. 
 Traus-continental railroad, successful construction of 
 
 the, 912. 
 Transferred from the prize-ring to the halls of con- 
 gress, 682. 
 Transition from gaiety to anguish in a moment, 440. 
 
 joy to sorrow, the nation's, July 4, 1826, 291. 
 
 Translating the Mormon bible, 307. 
 
 Transmissive property of the electric spark discovered, 
 
 346. 
 Transports of joy on the surrender of Lee's army. 885. 
 Trapping an unsuspecting official, fillibusters, 749. 
 Treading the children under foot on the burning ship, 
 
 674. 
 Treason of Major-General Benedict Arnold, 
 
 97-103. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Treatment of Gen. Burgoyne by King George, after his 
 
 surrender, 80. 
 Treaty of peace and commerce brought by Japanese 
 
 ambassadors in 1860, 732. 
 between the United States and Great Britain, 
 
 257. 
 Tree planted by the Prince of Wales at Washington's 
 
 tomb, 759. 
 
 — twelve feet in girth uprooted by the September gale, 
 265. 
 
 ICkemendous Fire in New York City, 353-361. 
 ^For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Tremulous signature to the emancipation proclamation. 
 
 Pies. Lincoln's explanation of, 810. 
 Trenton, battle of, 114. 
 Trepidation behind the scenes, 512. 
 Trestle at Secrettown on the Pacific railroad, 909. 
 Trial and Degradation of I'wo Bishops, for Im- 
 morality, etc., 448-455. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
 
 Event.) 
 Trial of Aaron Burr for conspiracy, 204. 
 
 Hon. D. E. Sickles for murder,and bis triumphant 
 
 acquittal, 094. 
 
 John Brown for treason and murder, 720; his con- 
 viction, 720 ; is hung, 722. 
 
 John C. Colt for the murder of Samuel Adams, 
 
 531. 
 
 Mrs. Cunningham for the murder of Dr. Burdell, 
 
 626-634. 
 
 Prof. Webster for the murder of Dr. Farkman, 
 
 627. 
 
 Trial of Rev. H. W. Beecher for alleged adultery with 
 
 Mrs. Tilton, &1.5-950. 
 — Richard Lawrence, for attempted assassination, 
 
 341. 
 Richard P. Robinson, charged with the murder 
 
 of Helen Jewett, 634. 
 
 Thos. W. Dorr, for treason, 413. 
 
 the assassination conspirators, 897. 
 
 — s of the early California emigrants, 506. 
 Tribute by Lord Chatham to the congress at Philadel- 
 phia, 70. 
 Trifling with an old sailor's loyalty, 860. 
 Trinity church, Boston, destruction of, by fire, 933. 
 , N. Y., its gift of a Bible to the Prince of Wales, 
 
 760. 
 Trip of the little Monitor from New York, 793. 
 Tripolitan ship-of-war strikes to the American flag, 183. 
 Tripped by the flag of his country, the assassin Booth, 
 
 890. 
 Triumphal journey of Washington to New York to be 
 
 inaugurated President, 142. 
 Troops listening to the reading of the Declaration of 
 
 Independence, 68. 
 Trophies of Gen. Gates's victory at Saratoga, 78. 
 Truce requested by Gen. Pemberton, 821. 
 Trust commit' ed to Farragut by his country. 860. 
 Truxillo, landing of Gen. Walker's men at, 752. 
 Trying to identify streets after the Boston tire, 936. 
 Turning the tide of fortune, the little Monitor, 795. 
 Twelve thousand tons' weight of the Great Eastern, 
 
 746. 
 
 — years' old chess-player beating Herr Lowenthal, 
 666. 
 
 Twenty-five thousand men employed in building ihe 
 Pacific railroad, 908. 
 
 — sudden and terrible blows on Senator Sumnei's 
 head, 617. 
 
 — thousand rioters surrounding the N. Y. opera-house, 
 614. 
 
 spectators, breathless and excited, witness the 
 
 vigilance committee's executions, 557. 
 tons' burden, the Great Eastern's measurement, 
 
 743. 
 
 voices in sublime choruses, 922. 
 
 Two days' speech, Hayne's against Mr. Webster, 298. 
 watch for Senator Sumner, 618. 
 
 — facts underlying Morse's discovery, 346. 
 
 — hundred persons viewing tlie sea-serpent, 580. 
 
 — little babes on board the Central America, the, 
 612. 
 
 — names, the, ever fresh in American gratitude, 272. 
 
 — panics— 1837 and 1857— comparison of the. 644. 
 
 — powerful bishops suspended from their office, 448. 
 
 — thousand acres devastated by fire in Chicago, 929. 
 men extricating the Pemberton sufferers, 729. 
 
 Tycoon of Japan, President Buchanan's letter to the, 
 
 739. 
 Tying himself among the rigging, Farragut, 866. 
 
 u. 
 
 Unanimous choice of Washington, as president of the 
 U. S., 140. 
 
 — request by congress to Lafayette to revisit America, 
 275. 
 
 Unbounded joy produced at tlie South by Whitney's cot- 
 ton-gin, l.'J6. 
 
 "Uiiceitainty struggling against certainty," tribute to 
 Moi pliy's chi'ss pbtying, 668. 
 
 " Unconditional surrender," Grant's terms, 822. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 1005 
 
 Uncontrollable panic and headlong flight at Bull Run, 
 
 784. 
 Undaunted heroism of John Quincy Adams, in congress, 
 
 3l>7. 
 Under oath, Mr. Beccher's solemn denials, 950. 
 *' Under the protection of ll>e flag," L'ST. 
 Undertaker and John Brown, conversation between the, 
 
 721. 
 Undismayed demeanor of Macready when assaulted on 
 
 the stage, 509. 
 Undying bravery of the troops at Gettysburg, 832. 
 Unexpected international embrace. Prince of AY ales in 
 
 an, 760. 
 Unfurling the sUrs and stripes from the Mexican nation- 
 al palace, 493. 
 Unheard-of casualty on the ocean in the case of the 
 
 Arctic, 609. 
 Unification of (he Republic, 9C8, 
 Union men on a visit to Pres. Jackson, 328. 
 
 — of nearly forty great States in 1876, 951. 
 
 — -square, N. Y., magnificent centennial display in, 964. 
 United States Guinxell Expeditioks to tue 
 
 Arctic Seas, 533-540. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 United States, the, an Independent Nation, 65. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
 
 Event.) 
 United States' " tribute " to Barbary, 182. 
 Universal heart touched by these events, 11. 
 Unmistakable British origin of the Alabama, 852. 
 Unmoved amidst the tempest, 366, 
 Unobserved approach of Brooks to Sumner, 619. 
 Unparalleled conflagration in the history of civilization, 
 
 at Chicago, 924. 
 
 — gale since the settlement of the country, 264. 
 Unprecedented spectacle in the halls of legislation, 364. 
 Unprovoked destruction of Washington's property by 
 
 the British, 247. 
 Unrivaled Performances by Paul Morphy, the 
 
 American Chess Champion, 666-673. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page qf this 
 
 Event.) 
 Unrivaled tactics of the frigate Constitution, 226. 
 Unscrupulous character of Aaron Burr, 191. 
 Unselfish cry of a little girl in the Pemberton Mills 
 
 ruins, 729. 
 Unsheathing his sword to the president's niece, 738, 
 Unswerving fidelity to the old flag, 860. 
 Unusual appearance of the water during the "Dark 
 
 Day," 91. 
 Upham, Dr., his grand conception of a great organ, 
 
 &44. 
 Upwards of one hundred witnesses in the Beecher case, 
 
 948. 
 
 thousand sewing-machine patents, 470. 
 
 Urgent appeals to Washington to accept the presidency, 
 
 140. 
 Use of a U. S. ship granted by congress to carry food to 
 
 Ireland, 481. 
 '.' Useless, useless !"— last words of the assassin Booth, 
 
 897. 
 Uses discovered for petroleum, 706. 
 
 — of the telegraph.morally considered, 905. 
 Ushering in the centennial ceremonies, 9G0. 
 ytah, the " J»romised Land " of Mormondom, 312. 
 
 V. 
 
 Vain efforts to reconcile the North and South, 765. 
 — predictions of the enemies pf free government, 8. 
 
 Valentia, laying the shore-end of the ocean telegraph at, 
 904. 
 
 "Valley of the shadow of death, 485. 
 
 Valor displayed in terminating the great civil conflict,878. 
 
 \aluable improvements and modifications of the sewing- 
 macliiiie, 469. 
 
 Vanguards of the Gettysburg aimies in action, 828. 
 
 Vapors, peculiar, during tlie " Dark Day," 91. 
 
 Various ellects of the inhalation of ether, 460. 
 
 Vaunted wager of battle from Cornwallis, 104. 
 
 Veiled statue in marble, beauty of the, 606. 
 
 Velocity of the falling meteors, Nov. 30, 1833, 336. 
 
 Venango county oil designated on ancient maps, 698. 
 
 Venerable prelates charged with imnioralitj', 448. 
 
 Vengeance of an outraged community, 552. 
 
 Vera Cruz, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, battles of, 488. 
 
 Verdict in the trial of Lawrence, the would-be assassin 
 of Pres. J.ickson, 344. 
 
 Vermilion tinge to nature given by the famous aurora 
 borealis, 383. 
 
 Vessels driven through the streets, during the great 
 g.ile, 265. 
 
 Vetoing the bill for chartering the U. S. bank, 374. 
 
 Vicissitudes of Burr's career, 209. 
 
 Vicksburg, Miss., besieged and captured by Gen. Grant, 
 817. 
 
 Victor Emanuel, king of Italy, his centennial saluta- 
 tions, 967. 
 
 Victoria acknowledging the kindness of the American 
 nation to her son, 763. 
 
 Victorious Race of the Yacht America, in the 
 Great International Regatta, 558-566. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 " Victory or death," Jackson's watchword at New Or- 
 leans, 2C3. 
 
 View of death, Washington's, 176. 
 
 Vigilance committee in California, reign of the, 550. 
 
 Vindication of Pres Jackson, 378. 
 
 " Vinegar of Four Thieves," the cholera panacea, 522. 
 
 Violent attack in the senate chamber, on Hon. Charles 
 Sumner, 616. 
 
 — defiance of the tax laws, in Massachusetts, 126. 
 Virginia, enthusiasm in, at the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence, 68. 
 
 — war operations transferred to Pennsylvania, 826. 
 Visit of Lafayette to America, as the Guest of 
 
 the Republic, 272-281. 
 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
 Visit to'Richmond by President Lincoln, 884. 
 
 the Queen of England by John Adams, 124. 
 
 tomb of Washington, Prince of Wales's, 759. 
 
 Visits of Moody and Sankey to the various cities, 665. 
 
 Vocal prodigy, the, of modem times. 541. 
 
 Voice of Jenny Lind described. 549. 
 
 Volleys in honor of the Princeton victims, 445. 
 
 Voluntary acknowledgment of guilt by an eminent 
 
 bishop, 448. 
 Vortex of ruin during the Chicago fire, 925. 
 — , the Sept. gale like a movine, 270. 
 Voting for the first time for president, 140. 
 Vow to God made by Pres. Lincoln on the emancipation 
 
 question, 811. 
 Voyage of discovery to the far southern sea, 386. 
 
 Lafayette to America, 273. 
 
 the first steamer, the Savannah, to Europe in 
 
 1818, 741 ; voyage of the largest in the world to Amer- 
 ica in 1860, 744. 
 Voyage of the U. S. Ship Jamestown, -with Food 
 
 for the Starving in Ireland, 479-486. 
 {For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 Event.) 
 
1006 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Vulcaneaii hue cast by tLe aurora borealis display, 
 380. 
 
 w. 
 
 Wager of $50,000 offered in favor of the yacht America, 
 559. 
 
 war boldly staked by the South, 7G5. 
 
 Watjner's centennial inauguration inarch, 952. 
 W;iil of agony and despair on the sinking ship, 613. 
 
 lamentation and anguish at President Lincoln's 
 
 death, universal, 887. 
 AVaiting eagerly for the order to fire, 233. 
 
 — for news of the steamship Arctic, 009. 
 
 — to announce the Declaration of Independence, at 
 Pliiladeliihia, 67. 
 
 Walker's various tillibustering schemes, 748. 
 
 Wall street New York, a sheet of flames, 354. 
 , , during the great panic, G48. 
 
 " Wanted money, not bank-notes," 28 1. 
 
 Wanton character of British warfare in America, 242. 
 
 Ward, J. Q. A., his elegant sculptured monument in 
 honor of the ether discovery, 463. 
 
 Warfare on tlie ocean revolutionized by the Monitor, 
 797. 
 
 Warning to Gen. St. Clair against surprise, Washing- 
 ton's, 117. 
 
 Warriors, great arn)y of Indian, 152. 
 
 Washington, Col. George, advocates American inde- 
 pendence, 66. 
 
 — Gen., farewell visit to his mother, 140. 
 
 , first draws his sword as commander-in-chief, 
 
 114. 
 
 , surrender of Lord Cornwallis to, 105. 
 
 , his adieu to the army, 116. 
 
 , ext.lamatiou of on securing Burgoyne's surren- 
 der, 79 
 
 — — , — on the news of Arnold's treason, 102. 
 , spurn-i the olfer to make him king, 115. 
 
 , resigns his commission as commander-in-chief, 
 
 115. 
 
 , his presidency of the convention for framing the 
 
 Constitution, 132. 
 
 , inaugurated president of the U. S., 139. 
 
 , rem.irk of. on signing the Constitution, 132. 
 
 , lays the corner-stone of the national capitol, 
 
 170. 
 
 , death of, 174. 
 
 — , Mrs. Martha, wife of Gen. Washington, at his dying 
 bed, 176 
 Washington, the national capital, founding of, 167. 
 
 — , , s.icked by the British, 242. 
 
 " Washiiigtonian " temperance era, 39G. 
 Watching and wailing for a battle, 2".5. 
 
 — in grave-yards and on roofs. Miller's followers, 435. 
 
 — the land market for bargains, 645. 
 Watchword at the battle of New Orleans, 263. 
 Water-woiks at Chicago, unfortunate destruction of 
 
 during the fire, 925. 
 
 Waters of the Dead Sea examined by Lynch's party, 
 497. 
 
 Wayne, Gen., his great victory over the Indians, 147. 
 
 '• We have met the enemy, and they are ours,"— Perry's 
 dispatch, 2.'!4. 
 
 " Wo must fight!"— Patrick Henry's summons to the 
 colonies, 66. 
 
 Wearisome litigation among inventors. 466 
 
 Welisler and Ilayne's great debate in the U. S. senate, 
 
 297. 
 
 — , Daniel, lays the comer-stone of tlie capitol exten- 
 sion, Washington, 173. 
 , his splendid eulogy of Lafayette, 279. 
 
 Webster, D.miol, unsurpassed as an orator in modern 
 
 times, 299 
 Webster, Piof. John W , nmrder of Dr. Parkman by, 
 
 523. 
 Weehawken dueling-ground, 192. 
 Weeks of stormy debate in congress, 375. 
 Weeping for their children, 572. 
 VVeit7el, Gen., enters Kichmond, the fallen capital, 
 
 883. 
 Welcome to Lafayette, 276. 
 
 Wells, Dr., his claim to the ether discovery, 463. 
 — , effect of the great Sept. gale on, 270. 
 — , sinking of, for petroleum, 700. 
 
 West Point military academy, reception of the Prince of 
 W^desat the, 761. 
 
 to be delivered to the British by Arnold, 102. 
 
 Western " paper cities," 645. 
 
 — rivers, adaptation of steam navigation to, 217. 
 
 " What hath God wrought!"— firstformal telegraphic dis- 
 patch, 350. 
 What Webster thought of Kossuth, 589. 
 Whirlpool of excitement among the gold seekers, 501. 
 Whiskey Insukrection in Penksylvania, 160. 
 
 — jug. General Taylor's, 401. 
 
 Whispering his farewell to the President, the Japanese 
 
 ambassador, 739. 
 White House, or presidential mansion, description of, 
 
 170. 
 
 — instead of red flags, 482. 
 
 — Plains, battle of, 114. 
 
 — -haired sage, a, rebuking his assailants, 367. 
 Whitefield's portable pulpit at the centennial, 958. 
 Wliittier, John G., poem for the national centennial by, 
 
 952. 
 Whitney's Extraordinary Cotton-Gin Inven. 
 
 Tio.v, 154-159. 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page qf thh 
 
 Eoent.) 
 Wliole regiments almost annihilated, 804. 
 " Whom can we trust now," Washington's exclamation 
 
 on healing of Arnold's treason, 102. 
 Why Gibbs killed his captured crews, 319. 
 
 — the proclamation of emancipation was delayed, 
 811. 
 
 Wide fears of a collision between tjie earth and the 
 
 comet, 425. 
 Widow Hamilton's accidental meeting with Aaron 
 
 Burr, 105. 
 Wilcox, Gen., at Bull Run, 788. 
 Wild enthusi.asm of the confederates at Bull Run. 785. 
 
 — shouts of approval of the vigilance committee's 
 method, 554. 
 
 — ,5peculations, and enormous debt, result of, 651. 
 Wilkes's exploring expedition to the South Pole, 386. - 
 " Will nobody help my hrother?" 676. 
 
 " Will you pay me my money? — yes, or no ! " 650. 
 
 Wil'ard's history quoted from, 414, 
 
 William, emperor of Germany, his letter of friendship 
 to Pres. Grant, 067. 
 
 Willing to pay any price demanded, speculators in oil 
 lands, 700. 
 
 Wilson's wonderful sewing-machine device. 469. 
 
 Winiler and Barney's operations at Washington. 243. 
 
 Winslow, Captain, in command of the Kearsarge, 852; 
 fights and sinks the Alabama, 852. 
 
 Wintering of American explorers in the ice-bound and 
 sunless Arctic, 5.'i4. 
 
 Wintliiop, U C, centennial orator at Boston. 962. 
 
 Wiping out a badstain. Commodore Hull's method of, 
 231. 
 
 Wise, Henry A., Gov., his tribute to John Quincy Ad- 
 ams, 371. 
 , very high opinion of John Brown, 719. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 1007 
 
 Wit of John Paul Jones, in the midst of battle, 85. 
 John Qiiincy Adiiius in a scene of excitement, 
 
 sec. 
 
 Witlulrawiil of the government funds from tlio V. S. 
 blink, :i74. 
 
 Without a poor in tlio world, Morpliy as a chess-player, 
 GG9. 
 
 on Uio roll of modorn warriors, Gen. Sher- 
 man, 808. 
 
 Witness-stand, Mr. Beecher and Mr. Tillon on the, 
 949. 
 
 Wives and husbands, adieus of, on board the Austria, 
 C7G. 
 
 Womanly courage on the deck of the Arctic, C15. 
 
 — di!V0tii>n of Burr's daughter Thoodosia, 210. 
 Women in childbirth helploss whilo the epidemic raged, 
 
 518. 
 Wonderful Dark T)xy, Mat 19, 1780, 89-90. 
 [For topical and anali/lical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Wonderful gate-way in the Rocky Mountains, 403. 
 Wonders of the skies. 429. 
 
 " Woi Id," so-called in ancient times, 740. 
 
 Wondrous mechanism achieved in the sewing-machine, 
 
 4G5. 
 Worden, Lieut., in command of the Monitor, 793; his 
 
 splendid succes.<, 79.i. 
 Words, last, uttered by Gen. Washington, 177. 
 
 — penned by Pres. Lincoln, the la.st, 889. 
 Work done by the temperance reform, 394. 
 Working capacity of the first sewing-machine, 466. 
 
 — of the mind in sudden and dreadful catastrophes, 444. 
 telegraph, 346. 
 
 — the pumps of the Central America. C36. 
 World's Peace Jubilee and International Mu- 
 sical Festival, 915-923. 
 
 (For topical and analytical details, see first page of this 
 
 Event.) 
 Would like to fight the Kearsarge, 855. 
 Wouldn't drink Captain Glynn's sherry, 591. 
 Wrapped in flames, the richest locality in America, 356. 
 Wrath of Washington, at St. Clair's defeat, 150. 
 Wreaths and bouquets on the senator's coffin, 711. 
 
 — of flowers for Lafayette, 276. 
 
 Wrestling single-handed for three hours with the Liver- 
 pool mob, Mr. Beecher, 838. 
 
 Wright, Silas, bis firm dealing with insurrectionists, 
 
 414. 
 Writhing in the fearful heat of the burning Austria, 
 
 (;7(;. 
 Written protest of Gen. Sherman against Grant's jilan 
 
 at Vicksl)urg, 825. 
 Wyoming, massacre at, 73. 
 
 Yacht America, victorious race of the, 558. 
 " Yankee Doodle " played at the Prince of Wales's de- 
 parture, 763. 
 Yankee products, sui generic, in Ireland, 485. 
 
 — valor on the ocean, a fixed fact, 233. 
 
 Year of jubilee throughout the land, centennial, 951. 
 
 suspense, cri ical. in the nation's history, 138. 
 
 — s of bold aii<l succes.'.ful piracy, (;ibbs's, 314. 
 Yellow appearance of the clouds during the " Dark 
 Day," 93. 
 
 — fever and cholera epidemics, 515. 
 
 Yielding his sword at last. Admiral Buchanan, 865. 
 Yorktown chosen by Cornwallis as his defensive post, 105. 
 — , determined operations at, by Washington, Do Ro- 
 
 chambcau and De Grasse, 105. 
 — , Gen Coniwallis's surrender at, 107. 
 " You scoundrel, you have dishonored my house— you 
 
 must die!" Sickles's exclamation, C92, 
 Young, Brigham, successor to Smith, the Mormon head, 
 
 312. 
 Youth and marvelous genius and triumphs of Paul 
 
 Morphy, 6G6. 
 Youthfulness of Com. Perry at the time of his splendid 
 
 victory, 241. 
 
 Zeal of American geographical research, 494. 
 
 Lafayette for the American cause, 273. 
 
 Zerrahn Tourjee and Eichberg, leaders at the Boston 
 
 musical festival, 917. 
 Zest and good humor during the Morphy chess-playing 
 
 era, G66. 
 Zouaves in battle, 817. 
 
 THE END.