YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

TO
MOSES PIERCE, Esq.,
OP
NORWICH, CONNECTICUT,
THE LIFE-LONG FRIEND OF ELIHU BURRITT.
THIS VOLUME IS
MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED,
IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE WISHES OF tHB
FAMILY FRIENDS OF THE
DECEASED.

ELIHU BURRITT;

CONTAINING

A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE AND LABORS,

SELECTIONS FROM HIS WRITINGS AND LECTURES, AND
EXTRACTS FROM HIS PRIVATE JOURNALS
IN EUROPE AND AMERICA.

EDITED BV

CHAS. NORTHEND, A.M.

NEW YORK: .
D. APPLETON & COMPANY.
S49 AND SSI Broadway. .

'' h ¦

Copyright Secured.
1879-

Ci(cZ.Z,Qi

^

i

i

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
Parentage ; Early Advantages, Efforts, and Occupations ; Re
markable Memory j Teaching ; Grocery -Business and fail
ure; Walk to Boston, and then to Worcester, m Quest of
Business ; Attainments in Languages  '3
CHAPTER II.
Spends Winter of 1841, in Lecturing as « The learned Black
smith ; " Lectures on Peace in Boston ; Edits " Christian
Citizen"; Olive Leaf Mission.  21
CHAPTER IIL
Visits Europe; Large Universal Brotherhood; First Lecture
in London; International Penny Postage; Sir Rowland
Hill  ^^
CHAPTER IV.
Visits Ireland ; Goes from Hovel to Hovel ; Scenes of Wretch
edness,— in Dublin,— Kilkenny,— Cork,— Bandon,-Skil>-
bereen ; Return to England.  34
CHAPTER V.
Peace Congress in Brussels; Preparatory Arrangements by
Mr. Burritt ; Selections from his Journal ; Large and Har
monious Meeting  S3
CHAPTER VL
Mr. Cobden's Resolution on Arbitration ; Efforts of Messrs.
Burritt and Richard ; Call on Robert Peel ; Peace Tracts
and Petitions ; Meeting at Exeter Hall ; Action of Parlia-
ment  °*
CHAPTER VII.
Preparations for Peace Congress in Paris ; Interest of the
French Govemment ; Large English Delegation ; Noted
Men m Attendance ; Great Interest Manifested. .... 7S
CHAPTER VIII.
Return to America ; Grand Demonstration in his Native Town ;
Address of Welcome ; Response, etc  82
CHAPTER IX.
Visits Worcester and Washington ; Calls on Members of Con
gress ; Death of John C. Calhoun ; His Funeral ; Philadel
phia; Pittsburgh; Wheeling; Cincinnati ; Louisville ; St.
Louis ; Chicago ; Returns to Massachusetts, and Sails for
England  93
(s)

CONTENTS.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER X.
Works for Frankfort Congress ; Meeting of the Congress ; Va-
, rious Delegations ; Organization ; Proceedings ; Efforts
for Arbitration ; Olive Leaf Mission ; Ocean Penny Postage. loi
CHAPTER XL
Peace_ Congress in London, 1851 ; Delegations ; Opening Ses
sion; Organization; Pres. Brewster's Address; Letters
from Thos. Carlyle and Count Dumelli ; Rev. J. A. James ;
R. Cobden; Wm. Ewart; Henry Vincent; J. Burnett;
Victor Hugo ; French Artisans ; Chas. Gilpin ; Rev. Dr.
Massie; Mr. Burritt's Speech; Closing Exercises; Soiree. 109
CHAPTER XIL
Peace Congress at Manchester; War Imminent Between Eng
land and France ; Efforts of League of Universal Brother
hood ; Mr. Burritt Visits France in Cause of Peace ; Peace
Congress at Edinburgh in 1853; Mr. B. Returns to Uni
ted States, and Devotes Himself to Ocean Penny Postage,
and in 1854, Returns to England to Labor for the Same
Object  142
CHAPTER Xm.
Efforts for Peace Suspended ; Labors for Compensated Emanci
pation ; Efforts Checked by John Brown's Raid ; Returns
to his Farm. . ;  148
CHAPTER XIV.
Fourth Visit to Europe ; Walks from London to John O'Groat's
and from London to Land's End; Appointed Consular
Agent ; Walks in the Black Country and its Green Border
Lands ; Superseded as Consul ; Testimonials of Esteem ;
Presentation Address and Response  ' . 152
CHAPTER XV.
Resumes Study of Languages; Six Weeks at Oxford; Returns
to America ; School-house Honored with his Name ; Pur
pose of Returning to Europe Frustrated by Railway Acci
dent; Decides to Spend Remainder of his Days in his'
Native Town  i6l

SELECTIONS.
Stratford-upon-Avon,  '°7
The Reality and Mission of Ideal Characters  194
The Mission of Great Suffering in the Development of Interna
tional Sympathy and Benevolence,  217
Walk frj)m London to Richmond,  234
Some Results of War, . . . . •  ^58
The Great Political Cheese  .271
The Farmer's Life,  283
English and American Birds,  3"
True Brotherhood,  3^5
Affecting Story of a Dog  33'
A Visit to the Queen's Dairy,  33^
The Power of Expression,  342
Lichfield— its Cathedral and Great Men,  35^
Boston Peace Jubilee and English Day,  367
EXTRACTS FROM HIS JOURNAL.
The Fugitive  37S
Prorogation of Parliament,  37^
Free Trade Banquet  379 '
Interviews with Lamartine,  3^1
Visits to Eminent Men,  3^7
Birthday Thoughts, . . ......... .. ...... . . . . -^ 3^8
The Crystal Palace Exhibition,  39°
Banquet to the Queen,  393
New Year Reflections  394
The Quaker Meeting  39S
The Rauhe House at Hamburgh  4°°
The Valuation of Human Life in War  416
Faith  '.418
Tribute to Joseph Sturge,  .> • • 422
Thoughts on my Mother's Grave,  427

CHAPTER XVI.
His Early Life and Industry ; Studies in New Haven ; Success ;
'Anecdote of his School-days ; The Danish Will ; His Spirit
asa Reformer; His New Britain Home; Plans for Doing
Good ; Testimony of his friend, Z. Eastman 

171

ELIHU BURRITT.

APPENDIX. A. -
Mr. Burritt's Letter to Mr. Lincoln of Worcester, as read at an
Educational Convention by Hon. Edward Everett, ... 431
B.
Ocean Penny Postage; Letter on the Subject from Hon. E.
Everett; Action of Hon. Chas. Sumner in U. S. Senate;
Letter from the Same; Interview with Hon. Abbott Law
rence; Subject Introduced into House of Parliament by
Hon. John Bright,  433
C.
Olive Leaves,  444
D.
Correspondence,  445
E.
Closing Remarks, with an Account of his Death and Funeral
Obsequies, with Testimonials from the Press and Individ
uals,  451

INTRODUCTION.

The number of men is very limited, in any century,
who devote their talents and energies to the promotion
and advancement of some special work bearing upon the
public weal. Most men become more or less absorbed
with business cares and professional engagements, making
themselves successful by the faithful discharge of personal
duties and obligations in a limited sphere of action. As
good citizens, neighbors, and friends they live, and when
they pass away their memories will, for a time, be fondly
cherished by those among whom they dwelt
But occasionally appear on the stage of life men who
seem to be inspired, or commissioned, for some special
work bearing upon the best good of the world. With a
remarkable singleness of purpose and unreserved devo
tion of their time and powers, they consecrate themselves
to the dissemination of views and principles that tend to
the improvement and elevation of the human race. With
but few followers, they enter upon their mission with an
earnestness and zeal for which they come to be regarded
by some as fanatics, and their views are considered
impracticable and Utopian. Though at the outset their
efforts are met with a degree of indifference, if not of
downright opposition, that would dishearten most men,
they press on, sustained by that unfaltering faith in the
righteousness of their cause which no amount of , apathy
or opposition can check. With no thought of honor, and

ID

INTRODUCTION.

with no desire for public favor or public position, they
continue to advocate their principles and press on in their
mission. In a certain sense men of this class are manu
facturers of public sentiment and opinion. As pioneers
in the work of reform and human advancement they
usually fail to receive due credit, and too often, as the
\ cause they advocate advances and assumes a place in
f public favor, others step in and "reap where ihey have
sown." Of the class of men to which we have alluded the late
Elihu Burritt may justly be remembered as one of the
most prominent, devoted, and consistent. Though of
highly respectable parentage, his early educational advan
tages were only such as were scantily furnished by the
' humble district school as it was in most New England towns
a half century ago. But, mainly by his own unaided efforts,
he acquired an almost world-wide reputation for his lin-,
guistic attainments as well as for his earnest and eloquent
advocacy of the principles of humanity, peace, freedom,
and right. With a strong and abiding conviction that
war was a terrible calamity and a waste of human lives,
as well as of means, he gave the vigor of his life and the
-powers of his mind, imbued with the spirit of a noble and
sympathetic heart, to the promulgation of the principles
of peace and to the substitution of arbitration in lieu of
the sword in the settlement of national difficulties and
misunderstandings. And though wars and "rumors of
wars " have not yet ceased in the world, nor " swords
been beaten into plowshares," no one will deny that a great
gain has been made in the cause of peace, and that arbi
tration has been successfully tried. Nor can any canjlid
person hesitate to acknowledge that the labors and
writings of Mr. Burritt have largely contribiited towards
bringing about the great and important changes in public

INTRODUCTION.

II

m

opinion and feeling that have taken place. To him, it is
believed, more than to any other individual, belongs spe
cial and unquestioned credit for the work accomplished.
This volume, in which a sketch of Mr. Burritt's life is
given, mainly in his own words, with an account of his
labors both in Europe and America, and copious extracts
from his private journals and writings, is published that
the people of the future, as well as the present, may have
some decided and tangible evidence of what has been
achieved by one of the most devoted and unselfish phi
lanthropists of the present century. It is an humble,
though just, tribute to the memory of one who has been
a true benefactor to mankind, and whose talents and
efforts were wholly consecrated to the promotion of Peace,
Freedom, and Humanity. By the noble example of Mr.
Burritt may others be incited to toil for the right amid
discouragements and opposition, ever remembering that
" Ours is the seed-time ; God alone
Beholds the end of what is sown ;
Beyond our vision, weak and dim.
The harvest-time is hid with Him."
And while at times all may seem dark, and the best
intended and best rendered services seem ineffective, let
it be a cheering thought that
 " Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds.
And though a late, a sure reward succeeds."

ELIHU BURRITT,

'JI

f

yervv^ ^avnilc.C joaci.c^

tVi'lit. /S^-vr/t-

CHAPTER I.
His Parentage; Early Advantages, Efforts, and Occupa
tions; Remarkable Memory; Teaching; Grocery Busi
ness and Failure; Walk to Boston and then to AVorces-
ter in quest of Business; Attainments in Languages.
Eliiiu Burritt, the third of that name, was born
in New Britain, Connecticut, December 8, iSio,
and was the youmgest son in a family of ten chil
dren, numbering five sons and five daughters. The
first of the name, or the remotest tVaceable ances
tor of the American branch of the famil)', was
William Burritt, who came from Glamorganshire,
and settled down in Stratford, Connecticut, and died
there in i6qi. At the beginning of the American
Rc\-(ilution his descendants took different sides.
One branch left New England and went to Canada,
with other loyalists, and fought for the British crown ;
the other families threw themselves with equal de
votion into the American struggle for independence.
Elihu I^urritt, the grandfather, at forty-five, and
Elihu, the father of the subject of this notice, at
si.xteen )'cars of age, shouldered muskets in that
long war. For thirty years, and more, after the
close of the Revolutionary W'ar the little, hard-soiled

*

14

ELIHU BURRITT.

REMARKABLE MEMORY.

IS

townships of , New England were peopled by small
farmers, owning from ten to one hundred and fifty
acres. The few mechanics among them — the car
penters, blacksmiths, and shoemakers — were also
farmers during the summer months. Indeed, in
those months every man 'and boy, — including the
minister, who generally owned and tilled the best
farm in the parish, — handled plow, hoe, sickle, or
shovel; The father of Elihu Burritt was one of these
farmer mechanics, plying the shoemaker's hamraer
and awl during the winter weeks and rainy days,
and the hoe and sickle in summer. His son adopted
and followed a wider diversity of occupation, and
could say at fifty that no man in America had han
dled more tools in manual labor than himself. Soon
after the death of his father, in 1828, he apprenticed
himself to a blacksmith in New Britain, and followed
that occupation for several years. Having lost a
winter's schooling at sixteen, in consequence of the
long illness of his father, he resolved to make up
the loss, at twenty-one, by attending for a quarter
the boarding-school his elder brother, Elijah Hins
dale Burritt, had established in his native' village.
As at this time every day he was absent from the
anvil cost him a dollar in the loss of wages, his
earnest desire for more learning was quickened by
the expense of each day's acquisition. He gave
himself almost entirely to mathematics, for which
he had a natural taste, aspiring only to the ability to
become an accurate surveyor.
Before leaving the anvil for this quarter's study.

he was in the habit of practising on problems of
mental arithmetic, which he extemporized and solved
while blowing the bellows. They were rather quaint
in their terms, but quite effective as an exercise.
One was, " How many barley-corns, at three to the
inch, will^ it take to go around the earth at the
equator? '' All these figures he had to carry in his
head while heating and hammering an iron. From
this he was wont to go on to higher and quainter
problems; as, for example, "How many yards ofj
cloth, three feet in width, cut into strips an inch
wide, and allowing half an inch at each end for the
lap, would it require to reach from the center of the
earth, and how much would it all cost at a shilling a
yard .? " He would not allow himself to make a single
figure with chalk or charcoal in working out this
problem, and he would carry home to his brother all
the multiplications in his head, and give them off to
him and his assistant, who took them down on their
slates, and verified and proved each separate calcu
lation, and found the final result to be correct.
It was these mental exercises, and the encour
agement he received from his brother,* a mathema
tician and astronomer of much eminence,, that in
duced him to give up three months, at twenty-one,
to study. During this term he devoted himself
almost entirely to mathematics, giving a few half
hours and corner moments to Latin and French.
* Elijah H. Burritt, previously alluded to, was a graduate of Wil
liams College, and author of a valuable and weU-known work entitled
" Geography ot the Heavens," — a book much used at one time. He
was a man of rare talent and worth. He died in Texas in 1837, at
the age of 44 years.

n

i6

ELIHU BURRITT.

TEACHING.

i;

At the end of the term he returned to the anvil,
and endeavored to perform double labor for six
months, in order to make up the time lost, pecu
niarily, in study. In this period, however, he found
he could pursue the study of languages more con
veniently than that of mathematics, as he could
carry a small Greek Grammar in his hat, and con
over rvirrti), tvtttcis, tvtttei, etc., while at work.
In the mean time he gave his evening, noon, and
morning hours to Latin and French, and began to
conceive a lively interest in the study of languages,
partially stimulated by the family relations and re
semblances between them. Without any very defi
nite hope or expectation ,as to the practical advan
tage of such studies, he resolved to risk another
three months in pursuing them. So, at the begin
ning of the following winter, he went to New Haven
merely to reside and study in the atmosphere of Yale
College, — thinking that that alone, without teachers,
would impart an ability which he could not acquire
at home. Besides, being then naturally timid, and
also half ashamed to ask instruction in the rudiments
of Greek and Hebrew at twenty-two years of age,
he determined to work his way without consulting
any college professor or tutor. So, the first morning
in New Haven he sat down to Homer's Iliad, without
note or comment, and with a Greek Lexicon with
Latin definitions.-
He had not, as yet, read a line in the book, and he
resolved if he could make out two, by hard study
through the whole day, he would never ask help of
any man thereafter in mastering the Greek languao-e.

By the middle of the afternoon he had won a victory
which made him feel strong and proud, and which
greatly affected his subsequent life and pursuits.
He mastered the first fifteen lines of the book, and
committed the originals to memory, and walked out
among the classic trees of the Elm City, and looked
up at the colleges, which once had half awed him,
with a kind of defiant feeling. He now divided the
hours of each day between Greek and other lan
guages, including Latin, French, Spanish, Italian,
German, and Hebrew, giving to Homer about half
the time.
Having given the winter to these studies, he
returned to New Britain with a quickened relish for
such pursuits and a desire to turn them to practical
account. In this he succeeded so far as to obtain
the preceptorship of an academy in a neighboring
town, in which he taught for a year the languages
and other branches he had acquired. This change
from a life of manual labor, with close application to
study, seriously affected his health ; so, at the end
of the year's teaching, he accepted the occupation
of a commercial traveler for a manufacturer in New
Britain, and followed it for a considerable time.
He now, at the wish of his relatives, concluded to
settle down to a permanent residence and business
in his native village.
In the wide choice and change of occupation for
which New England men are inclined and accus
tomed, he set up a grocery and provision store,
unfortunately, just before the great commercial crash
of 1837, which swept over the whole country, and

ELIHU BURRITT.

paralyzed business, and even property of all kinds.
He was involved in the general break-down, and
experienced a misfortune which, for the time, was
grievous to him, but without which he would have
left no history worth writing or reading. Having
lost his little all of property by this misfortune, he
resolved to start again in life from a new stand
point, or scene of labor. He consequently started
on foot and walked all the way to Boston, hoping
not only to find employment 'at his old occupation,
but also increased facilities for pursuing those studies
which his recent and unfortunate business enterprise
had interrupted.
Not finding what he sought in Boston, he turned
his steps to Worcester, where he realized his wishes
to a very satisfactory extent. He not only obtained
ready employment at the anvil, but also access to
the large and rare library of the Antiquarian Society,
containing a great variety of books in different lan
guages. He now divided tlie hours of the day very
systematically between labor and study, recording
in a daily journal the occupation of each. When
the work at his trade became slack, or when, by
extra labor at piece-work, he could spend more hours
at the library, he was able to give more time to his
study of the languages. Here he found translated
all the Icelandic Sagas relating to the discovery
of North America; also the epistles written by
the Samaritans of Nablous to savants of 0.xford.
Among other books to which he had free access
were a Celto-Breton Dictionary and Grammar, to
which he applied himself with great interest.

knowledge' of LANGUAGES.

19

Without knowing where in the dictionary to look
for the words he needed, he addressed himself to
the work of writing a letter, in that unique language,
to the Royal Antiquarian Society of France, thank
ing them for the means of becoming acquainted
f* with the original tongue of Brittany. In the course
of a few months, a large volume, bearing the seal of
that society, was delivered to him at the anvil, con
taining his letter in Celto-Breton, with an introduc
tion by M. Audren de Kerdrel, testifying to its cor
rectness of composition. The original letter is de
posited in the Museum of Rennes, in Brittany, and
is the first and only one written in America in the
Celto-Breton language. It bears the date of August
12, 1838.
Having made himself more or less acquainted
with all the languages of Europe, and several of
Asia, including Hebrew, Chaldaic, Samaritan, and
Ethiopic, he felt desirous of turning these studies to
some practical account. He accordingly addressed
a letter*to William Lincoln, Esq., Worcester, who
had been very friendly to him, alluding to his tastes
and pursuits, and asking him if there was not some
German work which he might translate, for which he
might derive some compensation. A few days after
wards he was .astonished, and almost overwhelmed
with confusion, on seeing his letter to Mr. Lincoln
published in full in a Boston newspaper. Mr. Lin
coln had sent it to Governor Everett, who had read
it in the course of a' speech he had made before a
Teachers' Institute ; and the author felt as if smit
ten with a great shame by the sudden notoriety
I which this unexpected publicity put upon him.,
mYf •> *See Appendix.

20

ELIHU BURRITT.

His first idea was, not to go back to his lodgings
to take a garment, but to change his name, and ab
scond to some back town in the country, and hide
himself from the kind of fame he apprehended. But
after a few days he found himself less embarrassed
than he anticipated by this premature publicity, and
he received many kind expressions of friendly inter
est from different and distant quarters. Governor
Everett invited him to dine with him in Boston, and
offered him, on the part of several wealthy and gen
erous citizens, all the advantages which Harvard
University could afford. These, however, he de
clined, with grateful appreciation of the offer, pre
ferring, both for his health, and other considerations,
to continue his studies in connection with manual
labor.

CHAPTER II.

Spends Winter of 1841 in Lecturing as "The Learned
Blacksmith"— Subject, Application AND Genius; Rev. Dr.
Cuyler's Impression ; Lectures on Peace in Boston ; Edits
" Christian Citizen " ; Olive Leaf Mission.
At about this time Mr. Burritt was familiarly
spoken of as "the Learned Blacksmith," and in the
winter of 1841 he was often invited to appear before
the public as a lecturer, perhaps mostly from a curi
osity to see and hear the man to whom this appella
tion was applied. He accordingly prepared a lecture*
on "Application and Genius," in which he argued
that there was no such thing as native genius, but
that all attainments were the result of persistent
will and application. He drew this argument from
his own experience, as certainly his taste for lan
guages had come from no inborn predilection, ten-

* In a letter to the editor, under date of August 5, 1879, the Rev.
Dr. Cuyler, of Brooklyn, writes concerning this lecture and Mr. Bur
ritt, as follows : " When I was a student I first saw and heard Mr.
Burritt in Philadelphia. He made a profound impression on me ; and
his racy, vigorous writings were my constant delight and inspiration
in those days. I spent an evening with him in Philadelphia, where
he was received as a "lion " in cultivated society. The Earl of Car
lisle was there at the same time, but the Yankee blacksmith excited
raore attention even than the British lord. I occasionally met Mr.
Burritt in later years, and always read every thing that came from his
warm, Christian heart and prolific pen. His ' Walk from London to
Land's End ' is one o£ the most picturesque and perfect volumes yet
written upon rural England."

22

ELIHU BURRITT.

dency, or ability, but had been purely and simply a
contracted or acquired inclination.
In this lecture he employed, as an illustration of
intellectual achievements under pressure of strong
motives, the story of the boy climbing the Natural
Bridge in Virginia, a description which has been
widely read, and which deeply impressed the audi.
ences he addressed in New York, Philadelphia, Bal-
timore, Richmond, and other cities and towns north
and south. In the course of one season he delivered
this lecture about sixty times, and he had reason to
believe it was useful to many young men starting in
life in circumstances similar to his own. At the end
of the lecture season he returned to the anvil in
Worcester, and prosecuted his studies and manual
labors in the old way, managing to write a new lec
ture, in the interval, for the following winter.
Before he appeared in public as a lecturer he had
tried his hand for a year at editing a little monthly
magazine, which he called "The Literary Geminas,"
half of which was made up of selections in French,
and the other half was filled with articles and trans
lations from his own pen. Its circulation was too
limited to sustain its expense, so that it was discon
tinued at the end of the year. But new subjects of
interest now presented themselves to change the
whole course of his thoughts, life, and labor. The
anti-slavery movement had assumed an aspect and an
impulse that began to agitate the public mind and
political parties. The subject of this notice began
to feel that there was an earnest, honest, living
speech to be uttered for human right, justice, and

AN INCIDENT.

23

freedom, as well as dead languages to be studied
mostly for literary recreation. ^j„„i„
About the same time his mind became suddenly
and deeply interested in a new field o P^^ anth-pc
thought and effort. Indeed, apparently a slight mci-
dent shaped the course which led to all his labors in
Europe. He had sat down to write a kmd of scien-
¦ tific lecture on the anatomy of the Earth, trying to
show the analogies between it and the anatomy ot
the human body; how near akin in functions to our
veins, muscles, blood, and bones, were the rivers,
seas, mountains, and arable soils of the globe we in
habit. Before he had written three pages he became
deeply impressed by the arrangements of nature or
producing such different climates, soils, and articles
of sustenance and luxury in countries lying precisely
under the same sun, and within the same parallels of
latitude around the globe. He was especially struck
at the remarkable difference between Great Britain
and Labrador, lying within the same belt, and washed
by the same sea. It seemed the clearest and strong
est proof that this arrangement of nature was de-
si<rned to bind nation to nation, lying even in the
same latitudes, by the difference and the necessity
of each other's productions; that it contamed a nat-
, ural bond of peace and good neighborhood between
them. . . , ^
He was so much impressed by this evident provi
sion of nature, that he gave up the treatment of the
subject which he had planned, and made a real, radi
cal peace lecture of it.
The place and occasion of its first delivery were

24

ELIHU BURRITT.

interesting and unique. A Baptist society, or
church, had just bought at auction the celebrated
Tremont Theater in Boston, and they decided to
have a course of lectures delivered "on the boards"
before the building was altered for a place of wor
ship. "The Learned Blacksmith" was invited to
deliver one of this course, and he made his first ap
pearance on the stage of a theater with his new lecture
on peace. He had never read a page of the writings
of Worcester or Ladd on the subject, nor had he had
any conversation or acquaintance with any of the
advocates of the cause. But several of these were
present in the large audience, and, at the end of the
lecture, came forward and expressed much satisfac
tion at the views presented, and at the acquisition to
their ranks of a new and unexpected co-worker, who,
for the next thirty years, gave himself to the advo
cacy of, the cause so dear to them.
On returning to Worcester Mr. Burritt decided to
forego and suspend studies which had been to him
more the luxuries than the necessaries of a useful
life. He accordingly started a weekly paper, called
"The Christian Citizen," devoted to the anti-slavery
cause, peace, temperance, self-cultivation, &c. The
circulation was not large, but scattered through all
the northern states, and it acquired a pretty large
circle of sympathetic readers. It was the first news
paper in America that devoted any considerable por
tion of its space to the advocacy of the cause of
peace ; and it awakened an interest in the minds of
hundreds who had not before given thought to the
subject. Mr. Burritt's mind became more and more

OLIVE LEAF MISSION,

25

deeply engaged in the cause, and, to bring it before
the public more widely, he set on foot a little agency,
which he called "The Olive Leaf Mission." He
wrote a short article, of about the length of a third
of a column of a common newspaper, and printed it
on a small slip of paper, surmounted by a dove with
an olive leaf in its bill. He sent out, at first, a dozen
copies of this olive leaf to as many papers, on trial,
and was delighted to see it inserted in nearly half of
them. He was thus encouraged to increase the
number from month to month, until he at last sent
out a thousand to as many papers all over the Union,
two hundred of which gave them insertion. While
he was carrying on this operation through the press
the "Oregon Question" came up, and assumed a
very serious aspect, threatening an actual rupture
between the United States and England. A few
earnest men in Manchester, alarmed at the tendency
and animus of the controversy, endeavored to arrest
it both by a special and unprecedented effort. They
resolved that the newspapers and political speakers
in the two countries should not hold the issues of
peace and war entirely in their own hands. One of
their number, Joseph Crosfield, a meek, earnest,
clear-minded Quaker, of Manchester, originated the
expedient adopted. It afterwards took the name of
"Friendly International Addresses," or manuscript
letters from English towns, signed by its leading in
habitants, and addressed to the citizens of American
towns, expressing an earnest desire for an amicable
settlement of the controversy, and entreating their
co-operation in bringing it about.
3

26

ELIHU BURRITT.

These friendly addresses from England were for
warded to Mr. Burritt, and by him to their respective
destinations. He also had copies of them made into
Ohve Leaves, and sent to- all the newspapers in the
United States. Two of them he took in person to
Philadelphia and Washington. The latter address
was from Edinburgh, and bore the, names of Dr.
Chalmers, Professor Wilson, and other distinguished
men of that city. This he showed to Mr. Calhoun,
who read it, and looked at the signatures with much
interest. He cordially approved of the expression
of such sentiments in direct communications between
the people of one country and the citizens of another,
on questions of such vital importance to both, and
he promised to do what he could to effect an amica
ble arrangement., of the existing difficulty.

H

CHAPTER HI.
Visits Europe; League of Universal Brotherhood; First
Lecture in London; International Penny Postage; Sir
Rowland Hill.
In consequence of his co-operation in the cause
of peace, and of his correspondence with the English
friends who originated it, Mr. Burritt sailed for Eng
land in May, 1846, on the steamer that carried out
the news of the settlement of the Oregon Question.
He proposed to be absent only three months, with
the intention of making a foot-tour through the
kingdom. But the openings for labor in the peace
cause, that presented themselves on his arrival,
induced him to prolong his sojourn in England three
years ; during which, with the help of a devoted
associate in Worcester, he still carried on "The
Christian Citizen " in that town. A few weeks after
he first met his English friends in Manchester and
Birmingham, with their entire sympathy and sup
port he developed the basis of an international asso
ciation, called "The League of Universal Brother-
hood," designed not- only to work for the abolitior
of war, but also for the promotion of friendly anc
fraternal feelings and relations between differenl
countries. The signing of the following pledge
constituted any man or woman a member of th(
association : —
" Believing all war to be inconsistent with the spirit 0

28

ELIHU BURRITT.

FIRST LECTURE IN LONDON.

29

kinffdo"; " K ^Tr'""' °' *^ '^^^ -^--^^ °f man
kind. I do hereby pledge myself never to enlist or enter
into any army or navy, or to yield any volunta y supnor
or sanction to any war, by whomsoever or f or wLtsoeve
myself with all persons, of whatever country, color or
condition, who have signed, or shall hereafte' sign 'thi
t£'^' uVu^'""^' '' Universal Brotherhood,^4oe
object shal be, to employ all legitimate and mora mean
for the aboition of all war, and all the spirit and manT-
festa ions of war throughout the world; for the aboHt on
of all restrictions upon international correspondence and
friendly intercourse, and of whatever else tends to makf
enemies of nations, or prevents their fusion into one
peaceful brotherhood; for the abolition of all instttion
image of God and a human brother in every man of
whatever clime, color, or condition of humanity." '
This basis of association presented a broad foun
dation for philanthropic labor, embracing objects
and operations far beyond those contemplated by
Peace societies proper. It had been a cherished
plan of Mr. Burritt to make the tour of Europe on
foot, that he might gain a better knowledge of'a.r"
cultural affairs, and get a clearer insight into the
condition of the laboring classes than could be ob
tained in any other way. But that he mi^ht be
instrumental in promoting a cause so dear to him
he postponed his proposed and favorite walk and
went up and down the country addressing p'ubHc
meetings and social circles on the important fubjec
contemplated by the "League of Universal Brother

¦M

m'

'^

"I had for some time been busy in adding to my lec
ture,* when Mr. Jefferson called to accompany me to the
Hall of Commerce. On arriving, we found the room
crowded to sufEocation, and it was with great difficulty
that we could make our way to the platform, or stand.
As soon as I reached it the house came down with a
most hearty demonstration of welcome. _
"The room was a vast, unsightly apartment, m which
'merchants most do congregate,' with no adaptation for
speaking or hearing. When, therefore, I arose to address
the audience, it was impossible to make them hear, m the
extreme wings of the room, owing to their distance from
me, and, more especially, to the excessively crowded, and
consequently noisy, state of the assembly. A tumult
immediately ensued. The multitude became agitated;
some hissed, others clapped, and many cned out for
adjournment to Finsbury Chapel. I attempted several
times to go on, but in vain. My voice was lost like a
whisper in the thunder of Niagara.
"There I stood, for the first time, before a London audi
ence, whose demonstration of discomfort took the Char
acter of theatrical manifestations. John Bull has an
immense heart, of great, warmth and capacity of benevo
lence, but then he must have a comfortable place at the
table, and the beef must be roasted and served to his
taste. "Again I concentrated all my physical force in a volume
of voice without success. Several gentlemen interposed,
• In his diary Mr. Burritt gives this account of his first appearance
before a London audience, Nov. 24, 1846. It may be said that a man
of less earnestness would have for ever retired from the lecture field
after experiencing the annoyance at this meeting. But a deep sense
of the righteousness of his cause stimulated Mr. Burntt to almost
superhuman efforts, that he might reach the public ear and, touch
the public 'heart.— Ed.

(..) -:

30

ELIHU BURRITT.

BOND OF BROTHERHOOD.

31

and tried to quiet the multitude into silence. I began to
feel it a personal matter to myself that I should be
obliged to waste my life-drops upon such a tempest, and
I arose again, and declared that I deemed my life -of too
much value to peril it in such a hopeless effort to be
heard in the uproar that prevailed.
"At last, when all hope of an adjournment to a larger
building was removed, the noise subsided, and I at last
obtained the ear of a majority of the audience. I sum
moned all my physical power to the efEort, ahd spoke for
two hours as I had never before done in my life. Every
face before me looked parboiled from perspiration, and
my own clothes were wet through from the same cause.
"When I came to read the Pledge, I received a mani
festation of sentiment that I did not anticipate. Suc
cessive bursts of applause interrupted me. Four times I
essayed to read the last clause of the constitution, viz.:
' For the abolition of all institutions and customs which
do not recognize and respect the image of God and a
human brother in evety man, of whatever clime, color, or
condition of humanity.* When, especially, I came to
the word 'color,' the whole house echoed and resounded
with the most enthusiastic acclamation of applause.
Men swung their hats, and ladies waved their handker
chiefs, in token of their approbation of the principles
advanced. I sat down amidst such a tempest of cheers
as never before greeted an efEort of mine on any public
occasion. ... I remained on the platform for some
time in order to let the multitude diminish before I ven
tured into its gulf-stream. A long and tiresome campaign
of hand-shaking closed the exercises. Men, women, and
children pressed forward to grasp my hand, — some insin
uating a whisper for my autograph, — a ruling passion in
England, especially with the female part of the com
munity.

and ended my first appearance before a London audience
The moment was favorable to the remimscences of the
pasl^Jthey crossed my mind in quick succession. l.n
[magination I threaded my way back ^^ ^\12\^^^J^
bashful boyhood. Through ^^^ ^he way the Lord hath kd
me. to my present position in the. world Nc,t uri- ^^^
but unto THY name be all the P^^^^^e^ f
which filled my heart at the issue of this review y
life.' "
Throuc^h the most generous aid of the late Joseph
Stlrof Birmingham, a most excellent and philan
thoj'c man, ready with heart and purse for any
good wo^k, Mr. Burritt commenced the publication
of'- The Bond of Brotherhood" as an exponent of
le spi -t, principles, and f^^^ f^
^:mbc7rxstior:r:;:;rtsofir^ Brkain In less than a year several thousand m the
UnitS Kingdom had signed the pledge, and an
^qu 1 numbe^r in the United States. Jhe socia
tion was formally organized in London m May,
slyand took its place among the benevolent socie-
Ues ;f the day, and began to work outward to the
circumference of its basis of action.
One of the first operations it set on foot was tha
for the abolition of all restrictions upon international

32

ELIHU BURRITT.

correspondence and friendly intercourse. Interna
tional postage was then almost a crushing restriction
upon such intercourse, especially between the hun
dreds of thousands of Irish and English immigrants
in America, and their poorer relatives and friends in
the mother country. In September, 1847, Mr.
Burritt first developed the proposition of a universal
Ocean Penny Postage ; that is, that the single ser
vice of transporting a letter across the sea in any
direction, or to any distance, should be performed
for one penny, or two cents, this charge to be added
to the inland rate on each side. Thus the whole
charge proposed on a single letter between any town
in Great Britain and any town in the United States
was to be three pence, or six cents. A very lively
and general interest was manifested in this proposi
tion among all classes. In the course of two winters,
Mr. Burritt addressed one hundred and fifty public
meetings on the subject, from Penzance to Aberdeen,
and from Cork to Belfast. Hundreds of petitions
were presented to Parliament in behalf of the re
form, and the movement in its favor was recognized
as a popular agitation.* Mr. Burritt prosecuted his
* Mr. Burritt lived to see and rejoice in the virtual accomplishment
of this object. How great a blessing " cheap postage " is to the
world can best be conceived by those who lived when it cost 12A, i8f
or 25 cents to send a letter to different parts of our own country.
To no man, more than to Mr. Burritt, is credit due for earnest, perse
vering, and effective pioneer work, in removing an onerous tax from
the humbler classes, by securing the international transmission of
letters at reasonable rates of postage. As early as 1837, the late Sir
Rowland HiU had become greatly interested in the subject of postal
reform in England, and, largely through his efforts and influence, a
bill was passed in the session of 1839-40, providing for a uniform

ANECDOTE.

33

efforts with great energy and efficiency, inspirited
by the consciousness that he was laboring for an
object whose attainment would prove a great bless
ing to the worid by promoting a more general inter
change of views and thoughts.
and cheap rate of postage in that country. The people manifested
their gratitude for the benefit secured by Mr. Hill's eamest 4nd per
sistent efforts, in raising, by subscription, ;;Ji3,ooo, as a present to
him. Mr. Burritt's efforts were directed to an extension of this ben
efit, by securing cheap ocean, or international postage.
The late Am.Tsa Walker and Mr. Burritt were wont to relate the
following circumstance as influencing Mr. Hill to advocate reform.
He was once at the post-office in. London when a poor woman in
quired for a letter. One was passed to her by the clerk, and on
being informed that there was two or three shillings due for postage,
she returned it, saying she had not the money. As she tumed to
leave the office Mr. Hill asked her from whom she expected the letter.
She said, "from my son in Australia." "I will give you the money
to pay the postage," said Mr. Hill. " I thank you, sir," said the
woman, " it is not necessary. It was the understanding between me
and my son that he should write once a month, and if a letter comes
into the office I know he is Vfell without being obliged to pay the
postage." This led Mr. Hill to consider how great an obstruction
the then existing rates of postage were upon all social, moral, and
business interests, as well as a temptation to dishonesty, and forthwith
his influence and efforts were enlisted for securing a much needed
reform.

CHAPTER IV.
THE FAMINE IN IRELAND.
Vlsits Ireland; Goes from Hovel to Hovel; Scenes of
Wretchedness,— in Dublin,— Kilkenny,— Cork,— Bandon,
— Skibuereen; Return to England.
In 1846-47 a failure of the potato crop, on which
most of the peasantry were dependent for suste
nance, occasioned a terrible famine in Ireland.
Thousands perished from starvation. At different
times Parliament appropriated ;^' 10,000,000 for the
relief of the sufferers, and large sums were received
from abroad for the same purpose. After visiting
the afflicted territory, Mr. Burritt caused a state
ment of the condition and wants of Ireland to be
printed and freely circulated in Boston and other
parts of Massachusetts, with an appeal for aid. The
heart of the people was touched and their sympa
thies awakened, and it was at once decided to send
a ship-load of provisions to the distressed country.
R. B. P'orbes, Esq., an honored merchant of Boston,
formerly a sea captain, volunteered his services as
commander, and we believe other positions on the
ship were filled by volunteers. The ship James
town, then in Boston, was quickly loaded with cloth
ing and provisions, and dispatched to Ireland. She
reached her destination about the middle of April,
1847, and Capt. Forbes met with a grand reception.
The citizens of Cork were overflowing with enthu-
(34)

DUBLIN.

35

siastic gratitude to the American people for the
expression of their sympathy, so substantially and
acceptably manifested. In token of respect to Mr.
Burritt for his timely appeal to the citizens of his
native State for aid, the Boston Relief Committee
authorized Capt. Forbes to tender him a free passage
to America on the return of the Jamestown — a com
pliment he highly appreciated, though not able to
avail liimsclf of the proffered kindness.
, Mr. Burritt spent a fortnight in different parts of
the famine district, and went from hovel to hovel,
witnessing scenes of distress and suffering seldom
seen by man. That some idea of the extent and
results of the famine may be formed, we give selec
tions from his diary as written by him on the spot
at the close of each day's observations. Probably
no other person spent a like amount of time in vis
iting the scenes of distress, or made a similar record,
and therefore, at the risk of a degree of sameness,
we shall venture to give most of a record of two-
weeks among the starving people of Ireland in the
great famine of 1846-47; In no other way can so
clear an idea be given of the nature and extent of
that great calamity.
DuDLiN, Feb. 13, 1847. At noon I went to the soup
kitchen, and there first came in contact with the famine-
stricken people. A crowd of haggard, unwashed, and
ragged people crowded the narrow passage to this pool
of Bethesda, as if the angel of salvation were there to
heal and give them eternal life. Children, with old rusty
tin cups, basins, and boilers, were almost trampled upon
in the struggle for food. Old women, shivering in their

36

ELIHU BURRITT.

rags, with trembling hands pressed their way to the win- '
dows, mingling in this dubious " Battle of Life." Still
their proximity to food mitigated their sense of wretched-
. ness, and the broad Irish humor that prevailed, and that
queer genius for repartee and sallies of wit, done in the
richest Hibernian, diffused a sunshine over the scene,
rendering it almost picturesque, and we may add it did
much to sustain the sufferers, often doing them good
" like a medicine."
Kilkenny, Feb. i6, 1847. At 9 o'clock a. m. I com
menced my campaign through scenes of wretchedness.
Before I arose from breakfast, a poor woman, with a child
in her arms, came to the window to beg a few pence to
buy bread for herself and her starving children. On
going to the office of the committee for aid, I was fol
lowed by a score of these poor, ragged creatures, all bare
footed and half naked. They pressed around_ the door
of the office, and set up a piteous wail for something to
buy them sustenance. On my leaving the office, they
followed mfc half a mile to a shop which I entered to buy
an article. I divided a few pennies among them, when a
new swarm burst into the door, — some on crutches, —
haggard, sickly, old and young, who were willing to pray
my soul into heaven if I would give them a "ha'penny."
I finally got into the coach, and was soon out of sight
of this place of wretchedness. As we rode along the
conversation turned on the condition of the people and
the cause of so much misety. The counbry was beautiful,
and nature seemed to have done all that she could for
the happiness of humanity. But the poor people, the
laborers, appeared to be worse housed and fed than the
beasts. Their cabins looked like mud wasps* nests stuck
upon the barren places of the land with clay. At evety
stopping place the coach was surrounded by scores of

I

I

CORK.

37

these starving beings, who implored for alms as if asking
for salvation. At one of these places, remote from any
village, a blind beggar, the most wretched piece of hu
manity I ever saw, lifted his hat to the coach window.
He looked as if he had lain in the grave for a week tty-
ing to die, but life clung to him with painful desperation,
and he had come forth to let his fellow-beings see how
miserable one of their kind might be, and live. I gave
him a shilling, which he consented to share with three or
four associates in famine.
Cork, Feb. 17, 1847. After breakfast I went out, fol
lowed by a troup of emaciated beggars praying for soup
tickets. I went with a friend to visit the soup shops, or
kitchens. There I saw poverty in its sickliest, most hu
miliating aspects. The poorest human creatures thronged
the passage and door-ways, and little blue-lipped, bare
footed children set up a sickly, whining wail for " a
ha'penny,' and may God bless your honor,— one ha'penny to
buy a little soup for a poor craythur." If wishes could
have been transmuted into ha'penny loaves, how gladly
would I have rained them down among these starving
fellow beings !
It was a very rainy day, and the portion we visited was
a part of a shed, or potato market, boarded up to afford
a shelter to the soup dispensers and receivers. No pen
can describe the phases of degraded humanity presented
by the group crouched along the walls of this dispensaty.
If they had been buried alive until their clothes had
nearly decayed, and then been exhumed with returning
animation, they could not have exhibited a sadder spec
tacle. They devoured their soup like ravening wolves,
with 'eyes that ate the subtle substance before they raised
it to their mouths. Every street swarmed with these poor
4

f

38

ELIHU BURRITT.

creatures, imploring " a ha'penny, for God's sake, to buy
bread with."
Seeing a group of wretched creatures collected by a
wall, I stepped up to them and found they were contem
plating, in silent sympathy, the condition of one of their
number. A mother was sitting on the pavement with
one infant fastened to her back, papoose fashion ; another
child was sitting by her side in the last stage of starva
tion. There is nothing in the common phases of mortal
dissolution like the appearance of this little victim of
starvation. It seemed to have lived through an age dur
ing its brief span of want Old age with all its consump
tive wrinkles was ridged in the girl's thin, blue skin.
The mother tried to cover the dying thing with a corner
of the tattered garment which had fastened the baby to
her back, as with a look of despair she gazed at the still
group of beggars, as one of them put a penny, roll into
her hand. That piece of bread would have saved her
once, but now it was too late. She put it to her mouth
but could not eat it, and she stretched out her little naked,
skeleton arm, with the roll in her hand, toward the little
barefooted beggar children standing by, as if she would
ask them to eat it for her.
Turning away from this scene, others of nearly equal
misery met my view. The country people are pouring in
from all directions, and it is estimated that 30,000 are
now living on charity in Cork. The work-house is filled
to overflowing, and about 5,000 are around its premises.
The most appalling mortality prevails among these poor
creatures, the weekly number of deaths being from 100
to 170 1 Indeed, it may be said that when the devouring
famine has eaten their heart-strings through they creep to
tlie poor-house for a coffin, and die almost as soon as
they reach it.

BANDON.

39

Feb. 18, 1847. I this morning took a coach, as it was
called, for Bandon, about twenty miles southwest of
Cork. The road was lined with apparitions of human
misety, strangely contrasting with the green fields which
indicated the fertility of the soil. It was enough to make
one's heart bleed to see what wretched hovels were the
abodes of those who reaped down the harvests of this
beautiful region. Nature has done her utmost for the
enrichment of this country, and man has done his worst
to make it a land of beggars. The curse of slavety is
upon it, for labor is degraded to its lowest level. It was
both sad and strange to see the shoeless women and chil
dren looking out, like spectres, from their mud hovels,
which the wild beasts of the forests would spurn for
lairs. As we approached a stopping-place, a litde crea
ture, a giri about six years of age, came out to meet us.
It was a pitiable sight. There was no blood in her cold,
blue face, nor enough in her bare feet and arms to redden
them with cold. She ran, as for life, beside the coach
wheels, turning up her black, sickly eyes toward the pas
sengers, and crying faintly, because so weak,—" a ha'pen
ny, a ha'penny,— buy a piece of bread ; a ha'penny for
the love of God ! "
We arrived at Bandon at about 3 o'clock p. m. The
town is well situated on a river of the same name, and
surrounded by fertile hills which have been, this vety
year of famine, crowned with a bountiful harvest of
wheat. Though somewhat late, in company of a gen
tleman to whom I brought a letter of introduction, I
took a turn through a quarter near his house. We en
tered several mud-walled hovels where we found human
beings crouching in dark corners, looking like famished
beasts with their young, ttying to hide their misery in
darkness. This was the first time I had entered one of

40

ELIHU BURRITT.

these damp, dark burrows, where beings made in the
image of God live and die in the lowest condition of
brute life. Men, to whose labor the beauty and wealth of
the countty are in debt, here cradle their children on the
ground and live like brutes.
Bandon, Feb. 19. This morning we renewed our
work of visiting the abodes of distress ,and destitution
In almost evety hovel we entered some one was lying
prostrate with fever. What couches for the sick ! There
they lay upon the most filthy straw, some partly covered
with rags borrowed from those of the family who could
still keep their feet. In some of these cabins we found
a group of little, half-clad children, huddled together
around a handful of burning straw. There they stood
as still as death, of which they were the living types
They could neither cry nor smile. Their eyes were vety
large, and were staring agonizingly at vacuity. Nothing
like common disease was in their looks. They seemed
as cold and bloodless as marble. In one of these
wretched man-burrows we found six of these litde things
with their naked limbs half bedded in the filthy mire
On asking the oldest where their parents were, we heard
a faint moaning from a corner of the hovel, behind some
boards set up for a partition. And there, upon a bed of
fetid straw, lay the father and mother in the last stages of
the consuming fever of famine. Leaving this dark habi
tation of wretchedness and disease, we entered one of
death. "He has gone away," said a woman, "he has
gone and left me, and the poor children, without a piece
of bread." And there, upon a heap of straw, lay the
body of the father, half covered with rags.
In another of these superterranean holes we found a
young woman entirely blind, sitdng upright upon the
ground, in that stiff, statue-like posture which the sight-

SKIBBEREEN.

41

less assume. She arose as we entered and " dropped a
curtesy," and resumed her position. She said she was a
poor blind girl who had never seen the light She asked
for nothing, but her large, white-scaled eye-balls dilated
with the earnestness with which she fixed them upon us
in the sentiment, but not the sense, of light. A poor
woman sitting upon the ground beside her began to tell
the poor girl's stoty with some strong expressions of
sympathy for her misfortune, when the latter interrupted
her with, — "And if it be the will of the Almighty, why will
ye be after saying that? Why should I complain? It is
the hand of the Lord that is upon me ; and sure it is
enough." I left this low lane of life as heavily laden with the
sight of human misety as my heart could sustain. Poor,
patient sufferers I If suffering could purchase salvation,
you would have already earned the best provided man
sions of Heaven. . . . Took coach for Skibbereen,
some twenty miles, arriving at 10 p. m.
Skibbereen, Feb. 20. This moming the Rev. Mr.
Fitzpatrick, with several gentlemen of the town, called,
and I accompanied them in my first walk through this
Potter's Field of destitution and death. As soon as we
left the house a crowd of haggard creatures pressed upon
us, and, with agonizing prayers for bread, followed us to
the soup house. One poor woman, whose entreaties
became irresistibly importunate, had watched all night in
the graveyard lest the body of her husband should be
stolen from its last resting-place, to which it had been
consigned yesterday. She had left in her hovel fivt
children, sick with the famine fever, and she raised an
exceedingly bitter cry for help. A man with swollen feet
pressed closely upon us, and begged for bread most pit-
eously. He had pawned his shoes for the last morsel of

42

ELIHU BURRITT.

food he had eaten. The soup-house was surrounded by
a cloud of these famine-spectres, half naked, and stand
ing or sitting in the mud beneath a cold, drizzling rain.
The narrow defile to the dispensary bar was choked with
young and old, of both sexes, some of them half famished,
struggling forward with their rusty tin and iron vessels
for soup. There was a cheap bread dispensary opened
in one end of the building, and the principal pressure
was at the door of this. Among the attenuated appari
tions of humanity that thronged this gate of stinted
charity, one poor man presented himself under circum
stances that even distinguished his case from the rest
He lived several miles from the center of the town, in
one of the rural districts, where he found himself on the
eve of perishing, with his family of seven small children.
Life was worth the last struggle of nature, and the mis
erable skeleton of a father had fastened his youngest
child to his back, and with four more by his side he
staggered, from weakness, up to the door just as we
entered the bread department of the establishment.
His cheeks were fallen in, and his jaws so distended that
he could scarcely articulate a word. His four little chil
dren were sitting upon the ground at his feet, nestling
together and trying to hide their naked limbs under their
dripping rags. How these poor things could stand upon
their feet and walk five miles, as they had done, I could
not conceive. Their appearance, though common to
thousands in this region, was indescribable. Their pale
ness was not that of common sickness. There was no
sallow tinge in it They did not look as if they had
risen from the grave and to life before the blood had
begun to fill their veins anew, but as if they had just
been thawed out of the ice in which they had been im
bedded until their blood had turned to water.

SKIBBEREEN.

43

,1

Leaving this scene I accompanied the Rev. Mr. Fitz
patrick into one of the hovel lanes of the town. We
saw, in every tenement we entered, enough to sicken the
stoutest heart. In one we found a shoemaker, who was
at work before a hole in the mud wall of his hut about
as large as a small pane of glass. There were five in
his family, and he said when he could get any work he
could cam about three shillings a week. In another
cabin wc found a poor nailer, working by the dim light
through a small opening, in a space not three feet square.
He, too, had a large family, half of whom were down
with the fever, and he could earn but two shillings a week.
About the middle of this filthy lane we came to the
ruins of a hovel, which had fallen down during the night
and killed a man who, with his wife and child, had taken
shelter in it. He had come in from the countty, and,
ready to perish, from cold and hunger, had entered this
fallen house of clay. He was warned of his danger, but
answered that he must die unless he found a shelter
before morning. He had kindled a small fire with some
straw and bits of turf, and Was crouching over it, when
the whole roof df earth and stones came down upon him
and crushed him to death in the slow turf fire. The
child had been pulled out alive and carried to the work
house, but the father was still lying on the ground, slightly
covered with a piece of canvas. On lifting this a hu
miliating spectacle presented itself. What rags the poor
man had upon him when buried beneath the falling roof
were mostly torn from his body in the last faint struggle
for life. His neck, and shoulder, and right arm were
burnt to a cinder. There he lay in the rain, like the
carcass of a brute beast. As we continued our walk
along this miserable lane, half-naked women and children
would come out of their cabins, apparently in the last

44

ELIHU -BURRITT.

:i

stages of famine fever, to beg "a ha'penny, for the honor
of God." As they stood upon the wet ground, one could
almost see it smoke beneath their bare feet, burning with
the fever.
We entered the graveyard, in the midst of which was a
small watch-house. This miserable shed had served as a
grave where the dying could bury themselves. It was
seven feet in length and six in width, and was already
walled around on the outside with an embankment of
graves, half way to the eaves. ' The aperture of this hor
rible den of death would scarcely admit of the entrance
of a commen-sized person. And into this noisome sep
ulchre living men, women, and children went down to
die— to pillow upon the rotten straw— the grave clothes
vacated by preceding victims surrounding them. Here
they lay as closely to each other as if crowded, side by
side, on the bottom of one grave. Six persons had been
found in this fetid sepulchre at one time, and with only
one able to crawl to the door to ask for water. Remov
ing a board from the entrance of this black hole of pes
tilence, we found it crammed with wan victims of famine
ready and anxious to perish. A quiet, lisdess despair
broods over the population, and death reaps a full harvest.
Skibbereen, Feb. 21, 1879. At 2 o'clock p.m. Dr.
Donovan called to accompany me to visit a lane of hovels
on the opposite side of the village. The wretchedness
of this little mud-city of the dead and dying was of a
deeper stamp than the one visited yesterday. Here
human beings and their clayey habitations seemed to be
sinking together into the earth. I can find no language
nor illustration sufficiently impressive to portray the
spectacle. A cold rain was deepening the pools of black
filth into which it fell, like ink-drops from the clouds.
The agonizing entreaty for " water ! water ! help ! help 1 "

skibbe-reen.

45

I

has been conveyed to our minds with painful distinctness.
I can liken the scene we witnessed, in this low lane of
famine and pestilence, to nothing of greater family re-
seml^lance than that of the battle-field, after the hostile
armies have retired leaving one-third of their number
bleeding upon the ground. As soon as Dr. Donovan
appeared at the head of the lane, it was filled' with mis
erable beings, — haggard, famine-stricken men, women, and
children, some far gone in the consumption of the famine
fever, and all imploring him, " For the honor of God to
go in and see 'my mother,' 'my father,' 'my wife,' 'my
boy,' who is vety bad, your honor." And then inter
spersed with these earnest entreaties others louder still
would be raised for bread.
In evety hovel we entered we found the dying or the
dead. In one of these straw-roofed burrows eight per
sons had died in the last fortnight, and five more were
lying upon the pestiferous straw upon which their prede
cessors to the grave had been consumed by the wasting
fever of famine. In scarcely a single one of these most
inhuman habitations was there the slightest indication of
food of any kind to be found, nor fuel, nor anything re
sembling a bed, unless it were a thin layer of filthy straw
in one corner, upon which a sick person lay, partly cov
ered with some ragged garment There being no window
or aperture except the door to admit the light or air into
these wretched cabins, we often found ourselves in almost
total darkness. But a faint glimmering of light from a
handful of burning straw in one end would soon reveal
to us the indistinct images of wan-faced children grouped
together, with their large, plaintive, still eyes looking out
at us like the sick young of wild beasts in their dens.
Then the groans, and the choked, incoherent entreaties
for help of some man or woman wasting away with the

46

ELIHU .BURRITT.

Sickness m some corner of the cabin, would apprise us
of the number and condition of the family. The wife
mother, or child would frequently light a wisp of straw
and hold over the face of the sick person, discovering to
us the sooty features of some emaciated creature in the
last stage of the fever.
In one of these places we found an old woman stretched
upon a pallet of straw, with her head within a foot of a
handful of fire, upon which something was steaming in a
small iron vessel. The doctor removed the cover, and
we found it was filled with a kind of slimy sea-weedj such
as is often found on the sea-shore. This was all the
nourishment that the daughter could serve to her sick
mother. But the last cabin we visited in this painful walk pre
sented to our eyes a lower deep of misery. It was the
residence of two families, both of which had been thinned
down to half their original number by famine and death.
The first sight that met my eyes, on entering, was the
body of a dead woman, on one side of the fire-place.
On the opposite side an old man was lying, on some
straw, so far gone as to be unable to articulate distinctly.
He might have been ninety, or fifty years of age— it was
impossible to tell, for this wasting consumption of want
srings out the extremest indices of old age in the features
)f even the young.
But there was another apparition which sickened all
he flesh and blood in my nature. It has haunted me
luring the past night like Banquo's ghost I have lain
Lwake for hours, struggling mentally for some graphic
md truthful similes, or new elements of description, by
vhich I might convey to the distant reader's mind some
angible image of this object A dropsical affection
.mong the young and old is very common to all sufferers

CASTLE haven.

47

by famine. I had seen men at work on the public roads
wilh their limbs swollen almost to twice their usual size.
But when the woman of this cabin lifted from the straw
a boy about twelve years of age, and held him up on his
feet before us, the most horrifying spectacle met our
eyes. The cold, watery-faced child was almost naked,
and his body was swollen to nearly three times its usual
size. The woman of the other family, who was sitting at
her end of the hovel, brought forward her little child, a
thin-faced boy of two years, with clear, sharp eyes, that ¦
did not wink, but stared, stock still, at vacancy, as if the
glimpse of another existence had eclipsed its vision. Its
cold, naked arms were not much larger than pipe-stems,
while its body was swollen nearly to the size of a full
grown person.
Let the reader group these apparitions of death and
disease into the spectacle of ten feet square, and then
multiply it into three-fourths of the hovels in this region
of Ireland, and he will arrive at a fair estimate of the
extent and degree of its misety. Were it not for giving
them pain, I should have been glad if the well-dressed
children of competence could have entered these hovels
with us, and looked upon the young creatures wasting
away, unmurmuringly, by slow, consuming destitution. I
am sure they would have been touched to the liveliest
compassion at the spectacle, and have been ready to
divide their food and wardrobe with the sufferers.
Castle Haven, near Skibbereen, Feb. 22, 1847.
At noon Dr. Hadden called to take me into the Castle
Haven parish, which comes within his circuit. This dis
trict borders upon the sea, whose rocky, indented shores
are covered with cabins of a worse description than those
in Skibbereen. On our way, we passed several companies
of men, women, and children at work, all enfeebled and

48

ELIHU BURRITT.

emaciated by destitution. Women with their red, swollen
feet partially swathed in old rags, some in men's coats,
with their arms or skirts torn off, were sitting by the road
side breaking stone. It was painful to see human labor
and life struggling among the lowest interests of society.
Men, once athletic laborers, were ttying to eke out a few
miserable days to their existence by toiling upon these
works. Poor creatures 1 Many of them are already
famine-stricken. They have reached a point from which
they cannot be recovered. Physicians inform me that
they can tell, at a glance, whether a person has reached
this point, and I am assured, by some experienced ob
servers, that there are thousands of men who rise in the
morning and go forth to labor with their picks and shovels
who are irrecoverably doomed to death. No human aid
can save them. The plague-spot of famine is on their
foreheads ; the worm of want has eaten in two their heart
strings. Still they go forth, uncomplaining, to their
labor, and toil upon the roads, cold, famished, and half-
naked, and at night divide their eight or ten pence worth
of food among a family of six or eight persons. Some
are kept at home, and prevented from earning this mi
serly pittance, by the fear that some of their family will
die before their return. The first habitation we entered
in the Castle Haven district was literally a hole in the
wall, occupied by* what might be called in America a
squatter, or a man who had burrowed a place for himself
and family in the acute angle of two dilapidated walls by
the road-side, where he lived rent-free. We entered this
stinted den by an aperture about three feet high, and
found one or two children asleep on the straw, with eyes
wide open. Such at least was the appearance, for they
scarcely winked while we were before them. The father
came in and told his pitiful story of want, saying that

CASTLE HAVEN.

49

they had not tasted a morsel of food in twenty-four hours.
He lighted a wisp of straw and showed us two more
children lying in another nook of the cave. Their
mother had died, and he was obliged to leave them alone
during most of the day, in order to glean something for
their subsistence.
We were soon among the most wretched habitations
that I had yet seen, far worse than those in Skibbereen.
Many of them were flat-roofed hovels, half buried in the
earth or built up against the rocks, and covered with
rotten straw, sea-weed, or turf. In one, which was scarcely
seven feet square, we found five persons prostrate with
the fever, and apparently near their end. A girl about
sixteen years of age, the vety picture of despair, was the
only one left who could administer any relief, and all she
could do was to bring water in a broken pitcher to
moisten their parched lips and mouths. As we proceeded
up a rocky hill, overlooking the sea, we encountered new
sights of wretchedness. Seeing a cabin standing some
what by itself, in a hollow, and surrounded by a moat of
green filth, we entered it with some difficulty, and found
a single child, about three years old, lying upon a kind of
shelf, with its little face resting upon the edge of the
board, and looking steadfastly at the door as if for its
mother. It never moved its eyes as we entered, but kept
them fixed towards the entrance. It is doubtful whether
the poor thing had a mother or father left to care for it ;
but it is more doubtful still whether those eyes could
have relaxed their vacant gaze if both of them had en
tered at once with everything that could tempt the palate
in their hands. No words can describe this peculiar
appearance of famished children. Never have I seen
such bright, blue, clear eyes looking so steadfastly at
vacuity. I could almost fancy that the angels of God
5

so

ELlHU BURRITT.

had been sent to unseal the vision of these little, patient,
perishing creatures to behold the beatitudes of another
worid, and that they were listening to the whispers of
unseen spirits bidding them " to wait a little longer."
As we passed along we were met by a young woman in
an agony of despair because no one would give" her a
coffin in which to bury her father. She pointed to a cart
at some distance, upon which his body lay, and she was
about to follow it to the grave, and he had been such a
good father she could not bear to lay him, like a beast,
in the ground, and she begged a coffin " for the honor of
God." While she was wailing and weeping for this boon
I cast my eye towards the cabin we had just left, and a
sight met my view which made me shudder with horror.
The husband of the dead woman came staggering out
with her body upon his shoulder, slightly covered with a
piece of rotten canvas. I will not dwell upon the details
of this spectacle. Painfully and slowly he bore the re
mains of the late companion of his misery to the cart
We followed him a little way off and saw him deposit his
burden by the side of the father of the young woman,
and by her assistance. As the two started for the grave
yard to bury their dead, we pursued our walk still further
on and entered another cabin, where we encountered the
climax of human misery. As we were walking we over
took the cart with the two uncoffined bodies. The man
and young woman were the only attendants, though a year
previous the funeral of either would have called out: hun
dreds of mourners from the neighborhood. Surely,
thought I, while regarding this new phenomenon of suf
fering, there can be nothing lower than this between us and
the bottom of the grave.
Skibbereen, Feb. 23, 1847. The awful visions of yes
terday so haunted me that I passed an almost sleepless

SKIBBEREEN, CORK.

SI

night, and I arose with all the symptoms of fever on me.
My clothes seemed fairly saturated with the nauseating
effluvia of the cabins. The prospect of being prostrated
by the contagion in this horrible place was anything but
pleasant I called on good Dr. Hadden, who kindly
sympa'thized with me. He gave me some medicine, and
advised mc to keep quiet in my room and not expose my
self apnin. It was a long, gloomy day of foreboding,
relieved a little by the thought that I had not exposed
myself merely to gratify an idle curiosity. Toward night
I began to feel better.
Skibbereen, Feb. 24. I arose feeling much better,
though still quite weak. I decided to take the coach for
Cork, and return immediately to England, — as I had seen,
probably, a fair average of the misery of the distressed
districts. Moreover, if I remained longer, I was predis
posed to the disease by my condition. On leaving I was
obliged to ride on the outside of the coach, but was full
of gratitude that I could ride at all. At 10 o'clock we
left Skibbereen, with its thronged streets of mendicants,
and a deep sense of gratitude pervaded my heart that I
had escaped being prostrated by fever in that pest-house.
We had a long, cold ride to Cork. At Bandon we
stopped a few minutes, and I bought a few biscuit and
some small pieces of meat and resumed my seat, intend
ing to make a lunch of what I had procured. But the
poor, miserable woiften and children who flocked around
looked up to me with such hungry eyes and imploring
looks, that piece by piece I dropped my intended lunch
among them, which they caught at like famished beasts.
Cork, Feb. 28, 1847. While waiting for the steamer
to leave for Liverpool, I wrote an earnest appeal to the
people of New England for aid for the starving Irish.
I trust that my earnest entreaties will not be in vain.

52

ELIHU BURRITT.

coming to them, as it will, from the very aceldama of
famine and pestilence. I have spent nearly $ioo and a
month's hard labor in trying to bring relief to the perish
ing in this land. I shall return to England with some
sense of satisfaction that I have not withheld my mite to
mitigate this mass of misety.
At 2 p. m., accompanied by a few friends, I went to the
steamer, — now ready to leave for Liverpool. On reach
ing the wharf a most affecting scene transpired. Hun
dreds of the famished laborers of Ireland were on the
forward deck bound to a foreign land where they could
stand, at least, on the same footing of sustenance as the
beasts of the forest, which had been denied them here.
Their relatives and friends had attended them to the
dock, and when the steamer's last bell rung the wail of
lamentation arose like the voice of many waters. Never
had I witnessed, even at the bed of death, such agonizing
expressions of affection. Men gaunt, and clad almost in
rags, embraced each other, and with arms interlaped
around each other's necks, exchanged adieus as if anni
hilation would soon lie between them. The whole multi
tude followed the steamer as far as the extremity of the
dock, weeping and wailing with an exceedingly bitter cty.

CHAPTER V.
PEACE CONGRESS AT BRUSSELS.
Meeting at Paris Postponed ; Brussels Selected as Place
OF Meeting ; Preparatory Labors by Mr. Burritt ; Se
lections FROM HIS Journal; Large Attendance and.
Harmonious Meeting.
Soon after the deposition and flight of Louis
Philippe from France, in 1848, Mr. Burritt went to
Paris to prepare for holding a conference of the
friends of Peace from different countries, in that
city. No meeting of the kind had ever been held
on the continent, and as the new regime in France
had raised as their banner " Liberty, Equality, and
Fraternity," it seemed to be a favorable opportunity
for inaugurating such a movement. After spending
a week in Paris in conferring with prominent men
in relation to the proposed convention, Mr. Burritt
returned to England and visited most of the large
towns, with the view of securing the appointment
of delegates to the contemplated meeting. Success
attended his efforts, and all things, for the time,
looked favorable for a large and silccessful meeting.
But the terrible civil struggle in Paris in June 23,
24, and 25, with its deeds of violence and blood,
rendered an abandonment or postponement of the
meeting necessary. It was decided that the con
vention should be held in Brussels in September,
1848. The necessary preliminary arrangements

S^

(S3)

54

ELIHU BURRITT.

OPENING SESSION.

55

were made, and the results were far more favorable
than the most ardent friends of the cause had dared
to hope for.
The Belgian government and authorities were
greatly interested in the meeting, and cheerfully did
all that was asked or desired to facilitate and recog
nize the meeting. A large number of delegates
came to the meeting from Great Britain, P"rance,
Germany, Holland, and other countries. The ses
sions continued three days, and all the discussions
and proceedings were conducted and characterized
with much harmony and good spirit. An eai;nest
address to the various governments and peoples of
Christendom was unanimously adopted and signed
by the President, Vice-President, and Secretary^
It was presented, by a special delegation, to Lord
John Russell, then Prime Minister of England. It
was also forwarded to all the governments of Europe,
and published in many of the continental journals.
The meeting at Brussels, which the English dele
gates only ventured to call a conference, was recog
nized and denominated a "Peace Congress" by both
the English and continental papers, and it consti
tuted a new and important event in the history of
the cause and gave to it a new impulse and charac
ter. From Mr. Burritt's journal we make the fol
lowing extracts as indicative of the interest and
spirit manifested in the meeting :
Brussels, Sept. 20, 1848. This was a beautiful, heav
enly morning, as if made on purpose for peace. After
breakfast I went, with a few others, to the " Salon de la
Grand Harmonie," to meet the Belgian committee. We

I-,

I I

I

found the hall a vety elegant one, and fitted up for the
occasion with much taste. After a little consultation it
was decided to have the session open at i o clock, in
order to enable the English delegation, who would prob
ably be late in their arrival, to secure some refreshment
before they went to the Hall. On returning to the hotel
'l met distinguished delegates who had just arrived from
Paris Soon after 10 o'clock it was announced that the
l.-n.'lish delegation haa arrived at the station, having
bcai sent forward by a special train, and, with one or
two friends, I drove rapidly to the station. We found it
surrounded wilh carriages, cabs, &c., and the bustle of
an unusual affair was perceptible from a distance. I
never shall forget the moment that I entered the large
waiting room. My first glance compassed a score of
faces which will always be dear to me. It seemed the
climax of the enterprise. The room was full of persons
whom I had met in different parts of England and Scot
land, from Liskeard to Aberdeen. From evety one I
received a greeting that well repaid me for long days and
nights of care, and anxiety, and labor. The number of
the delegation was about 150,— being the largest deputa
tion that had ever crossed the English channel to attend
any Congress or Convention. After having been grouped
into companies for the different hotels, they proceeded
into town, exciting much apparent interest by their ar
rival. .
On reaching my hotel I found that Marquis de la
Rochefoucald-Liancourt had arrived from Paris, and had
sent in his card. I immediately waited upon him and
was cordially received. Though suffering with a head
ache, he was ready to attend at the first session. Before
I o'clock the hall was nearly full. The English dele
gates, with their ruddy cheeks and plain appearance, pre-

56

ELIHU BURRITT.

sented an interesting contrast when compared with the
French-looking Belgians with whom they were intermin
gled. Mr. Auguste Visschers, of Brussels, called the
assembly to order, and after a few preliminary remarks
called for the organization of the Congress. Mr. Viss
chers was elected -President Four Vice-Presidents were
elected, viz.: F. Bouvet for France, Count Lunigar for
Holland, Wm. Ewart, M. P., for England, and E. Burritt for
America. After the appointment of Secretaries, Mr. Viss
chers made his opening speech, which was an excellent
one, and received with'^ enthusiastic demonstrations of
satisfaction. All felt rejoiced that such a man had been
selected to inaugurate the Peace movement on the Con
tinent. Mr. Bouvet, of France, then took the tribune
and spoke for half an hour upon the subject of a Con
gress of nations, and made a very good impression.
Wm. Ewart, M. P., followed with a very good speech, and
stated that the members of the House of Commons- were
strongly in favor of peace. He uttered some noble sen
timents towards France, and when he left the tribune Mr.
Bouvet arose and meeting him half way to his seat gave
him a most cordial hand-shaking. The incident was ap
preciated by the whole assembly and elicited a burst of
applause. Mr. J. S. Buckingham, of England, made an
admirable speech upon the subject of war in its historical,
moral, and financial aspects. The Belgian part of the
audience listened with much apparent interest, and the
opening session of the Congress was a highly gratifying
one. At the second session the first resolution upon the
iniquity, inhumanity, and folly of war was read to the
meeting. It was a moment of intense interest The
Congress, composed of about an equal number of Conti
nentals and Englishmen, was called to express its opinion
of war, within a few miles of Waterloo. This was, as it

RESOLUTION ON WAR.

57

i I

¦

were, laying the basis of the cause of peace on the Con
tinent We had felt considerable solicitude in regard to
the declaration which was to go out to the worid from the
Congress, especially as members of the Belgian commit
tee had evinced a desire to modify all strong terms. But
on meeting in the committee-room, just before the open
ing of the evening session, it was decided to present the
following resolution to the Congress as expressive of its
opinion of the character of war : "Resolved, That this
Congress declares that the appeal to arms for regulating
different international difficulties is a custom which, at
the same time, religion, reason, justice, and interest of the
people condemn. Consequently it is a duty and means
of safety for the civilized world to adopt suitable meas
ures in order to effect the entire abolishment of war."
When the chairman arose to put this resolution to vote, I
held my breath, from intense interest, almost astounded
at the fact that a declaration of such a sweeping charac
ter was to go forth from the assembly. The clear voice
of the chairman seemed to penetrate into the very hearts
of all present, as he read the resolution and called upon
all who favored its passage to rise. The entire assembly,
with one solitary exception, arose instantaneously, and
after a moment's silence, as if struck with their unanimity,
an enthusiastic peal of applause burst forth, and swelled
into a full tide of joyful acclamation, especially from the
English delegates, who appreciated, in a lively manner, the
conquest of the idea. For my part I could not refrain
from lifting up my heart in grateful acknowledgment to
the God of Peace, that I was permitted to see that day.
The magnificent hall was well filled with an intelligent
audience, in addition to the members of the Congress,
when this important resolution was passed, and all seemed
to give their silent adhesion to the sentiments which it
exnressed. . . .

58

ELIHU BURRITT.

I had engaged M. Bourson to read my essay, or about
one-third of it, as it was longer than I had anticipated.
He therefore mounted the tribune and read in a clear
and impressive manner the conclusion of the dissertation,
embracing all the leading principles of the proposition of
a Congress of Nations. It was listened to with fixed
attention, and the points and illustrations, upon which I
had bestowed some care, seemed to make a favorable
impression ; and when M. Bourson left the tribune several
rounds of applause were given for the joint performance.
An able and cordial letter was next read from Dr. Brown
ing, which elicited much acclamation. He was followed
by Prof. Bertinatte, from Turin, who read an elaborate
and learned essay upon a Congress of Nations. He was
a distinguished juris-consul, who had read and written
much upon this subject He happened to be in Brussels
at this time, and seeing the proposition of a Congress of
Nations on our programme, he brought out an erudite
dissertation in favor of it. To me this was a grateful
and surprising coincidence. His points, illustrations,
dates, and authors were almost identical with those I had
employed. Indeed the coincidence was so striking, that
many remarked that one essay seemed a copy of the
other. No incident connected with the discussions af
fected my mind more pleasantly than this. I felt that
the grand idea of a Congress of Nations had taken a
deep hold of the public mind on the continent, and what
we foresee will ere long be accomplished amidst the ac
clamations of the peoples.
Henry Vincent next mounted the tribune. It was the
first time he had spoken, and the Belgians hardly knew
what to expect from the short, dumpy, red-faced man
who now stood before them. As he began, as was his
¦habit, in a low voice, and labored for expression, many

CLOSING SPEECHES.

59

i

persons left the hall, and the current was setting in strong
for the door when one of his claps of thunder, as it
were, arrested the persons halfway. In a minute or two
his voice arose into the ruddy energy which distinguishes
him, and the whole assembly began to respond to his
power. On and upward he soared, and his imprisoned
thoughts burst forth like jewelled meteors and flashed
with dazzling brilliance. Many seemed half raised from
their seats, as if borne bodily by the power of his tower
ing genius. It was eloquent almost to inspiration, and
when he ended his short speech wit'n the exclamation,
" 7%if Lord' God omnipotent reigneth ! Alleluia!" there
was an explosion of applause in which every being in the
house seemed to join. . . .
The hour of separation was now close at hand, and
many affecting considerations were connected with it
Mr. Roussel arose and said, " I ask permission to say a
few words, to thank, in the name of Belgium, these hon
orable strangers, these good philanthropists, who, to
propagate ideas of humanity, have left their homes and
come to submit to us these ideas, which we all regard as
emanations of our own hearts. Across the immensity of
the seas we will shake hands and they shall remain
clasped in each other. England, America, and Belgium
shall henceforth be united in the same thought of peace
and prosperity. ..."
Eloquent and able closing addresses were made by Mr.
Roussell, of France, and Henry Vincent, of England.
The genius of each was inspired with good will to man,
with which their very countenances were radiant. Mr.
Vincent had previously made a brief speech, and as he
ascended the tribune he was enthusiastically applauded.
He had in the first place raised his audience to a high
state of excitement and admiration, and his second ad-

6o

ELIHU BURRITT.

dress raised the assembly to sublime emotion, not so
much by the sheer force of brilliant ideas as by that
heart-power which he puts into his fervid words. He
observed, " I maintain what I have before said— it is pub
lic opinion that will slay war : not that vicious and vacil
lating public opinion which has been described to us,
but the public opinion impregnated, as it were, with the;
holy truths of Christianity, armed with the conquests of'
science, emanating from the glorious perfectionment of
the human understanding, and based upon eternal justice."
He concluded his great speech in these words : " Great
and glorious will be the nation which shall take the ini
tiative in the cause of peace. Its name shall be handed
down to posterity as that of the first people which under
stood the mission of humanity. You, Belgians, will
perhaps merit this immortal honor. I should be proud
and happy to take the lead of my country in this noble
course. My country! that name recalls sweet associa
tions ! The place where we first beheld the sun, the
school in which we received our first instru ;tions, the
church in which we first adored the Creator, the green
lanes we trod in the eariy days of childhood, are memo
ries which nothing can efface. But however sweet to me
these reminiscences, dearly as I love my country, I de
clare to you I love humanity more." These words almost
any person might write or speak, but no language can
convey the power which Henry Vincent threw into them,
and which seemed to lift the whole assembly from their
seats. " Friends and brethren of Belgium ! " he con
cluded, "from the center of your beautiful capital shall
flow forth among the nations the first rivulets of the foun
tain of peace and love. Pursue your mission with the
full conviction that God will bless your efforts. Cast
away from you for ever the barbarism of brute force, and

I

CLOSING EXERCISES.

6l

prepare the way for the advent of that era of peace of
which poets and good men of all ages have dreamed, and
the day shall come when the lance shall be broken by
the pen, and the world shall hail the reign of liberty,
justice, and love I "
After the usual votes of thanks to the citizens of
Brussels for their great cordiality and hospitality,
and to the presiding officer for the ability and cour-
teousness with which he had discharged his duties,
the Congress adjourned with the understanding that,
if possible, the next meering should be held in Paris,
though the Belgian delegates expressed a strong
desire to have it held at Brussels, promising every
needed aid and encouragement Thus ended a
Congress whose sessions had been characterized by
the utmost harmony and good spirit, and the dele
gates returned to their respective homes greatly
encouraged for future effort. Mr. Burritt, who had
done so much preparatory work, was overjoyed
with what his eyes had seen and his ears had heard,
and he resolved to continue his efforts for the cause
of peace with renewed courage and unabated zeal.

CHAPTER VI.
TREATIES OF ARBITRATION.
Mr. Coisden's Resolution ; Efforts of Messrs. Burritt and
Richards; Call on Sir Robert Peel; Circulation of
peace tracts and petitions; Meeting at Exeter Hall;
Action of Parliament.
After the Peace Congress at Brussels, in 1848,
the friends of peace in England felt greatly encour
aged to organize and set in motion more vigorous
plans of operation. The League of Universal Broth
erhood united with the London Peace Society in a
special effort to press upon the consideration of the
English Parliament a resolution to be brought for
ward by Richard Cobden for stipulated arbitration,
or for special treaties between all the governments
of Christendom, by which they should bind them
selves to refer to arbitration any question which
they could not settle by ordinary negotiation. Mr.
Burritt, as representative of the League of Universal
Brotherhood, and Rev. Henry Richards, the able
and eloquent Secretary of the London Peace Society,
traveled together up and down the kingdom, ad
dressing public meetings in behalf of Mr. Cobden's
resolution. Other eminent speakers did the same,
and petitions were extensively circulated and numer
ously signed in favor of the movement On the i ith
of June, 1849, after several months of preparatory
work had been done, a grand demonstration meeting
was held in Exeter Hall, London, it being the even-
(62)

PREPARATORY, MEASURES.

63

\

ing preceding that on which the -^^l-^-^.^^J;
be presented in Pariiament Of this meeting Mr
Burritt writes in his private journal as follows, under
date of London, June il, 1849 ¦
This was truly a great day in my personal experience
The crowning dlmonstration of our arbitration movemen
was to take place in Exeter Hall in the evening. The
Irand finie of the one hundred and fifty public meetings
Td of all the other operations which the Peace Congress
Committee had instituted during the last -months in
.nnnort of Mr. Cobden's motion, was now at hand, ilie
is'o public sentiment which had been threading their
way up to St. Stephen through city, town village, and
Tral community, from Land's End to John O Groa s
,ere- now to be concentrated upon Pariiament in the
volume and " the voice of a multitude of mighty wa ers
IsS it to the august utterance of a Nation's voice in
favor of peace and the brotherhood of nations.
A thousand petitions, some bearing the signatures o
ro 000 individuals each, had conveyed to that important
;ody intimations of the people's will. To -e, who had
never before witnessed a phenomenon, or assisted at an
"periment of this character, it was deeply mterestmg to
observe the process and effect of this pressure from
without " upon the central legislature of the world. The
Xd-machfnery set in operation to produce this pressure
was in itself, fraught with instruction to governments and
loples It was the silent enginery of invisible activities
concentrating the individual wills of communities upon
the minds of statesmen, like impalpable presence of con-
V ct"n, and turning them to the bias of ideas which they
Tad perhaps ridiculed and resisted. First of the dynam
ics of this mind-machinety of popular opmion and senti

64

ELIHU BURRITT.

ment, planted " in a little upper room," and opened upon
the legislature of the greatest empire in the world, was
the Penny Post. For the six months' " agitation " of
the national mind which the Peace Congress Committee
had originated and conducted in favor of the measure to
be brought forward by Mr. Cobden, the Penny Post had
been plied with unremitted activity. Nearly 5 0,000 letters
and other missives in manuscript or lithograph, had been
sent out in every direction like radiating veins of thought
through which the " one idea " was kept in lively circula
tion. Thus it acquired a constituency of earnest minds
in almost every town in the kingdom which sent a repre
sentative to Pariiament; and that representative had,
perhaps, been surprised to receive at St Stephens', by
tbe Penny Post, communications from his own constitu
ents requesting him, with the emphasis of electors, to
give his voice and vote for Mr. Cobden's motion.
Then hundreds of thousands of printed leaves, eluci
dating the same idea, had been scattered with a sower's
hand among the masses of the people, which they had
read eagerly on their way to the field or factory ; and the
silent conviction of myriads of men, women, and children
of the laboring classes, who had no votes to give or with
hold, had strengthened the pressure of the people's mind
upon Pariiament Then every night, for six months, a'
public meeting in some city, town, or village had given
an utterance to " the one idea," which the press echoed
and re-echoed among the populations far and near. Thus
one hundred and fifty assemblies of the people, from
John O'Groat's to Land's End, embracing the active minds
of as many distinct communities, had thrown into the
gathering tide of public opinion the force of their sym
pathies. And the great meeting in Exeter Hall was to give a

EXETER HALL.

65

I

great voice to all these sympathies and convictions of the
people and to speak to Parliament the last words of the
nation' in favor of the measure to be discussed in the
House of Commons on the ensuing evening.
No pains or expense had been spared to make this
final demonstration worthy of its object. England and
the United States are the only two countries in the worid
in which public meetings have become an inalienable
institution of the people. But our American friends can
hardly realize the expense of one in Exeter Hall. In
the first place, the rent of the great room for one evening
is ^2o, which, added to the charges for advertisements,
placards, attendance, etc., amount to at least $250. On
this occasion one thousand platform tickets had been sent
out, through the Penny Post, among others to neariy 400
ministers of the gospel, to the editors and literati, and
other men of influence and standing in London and
vicinity. .
But in addition to all these agencies and influences
which had been, or were to be, brought to bear upon Par
liament to constrain it to speak a great word of Peace to
the struggling nations of Europe, it was thought of great
importance to elicit from Sir Robert Peel an expression
of pacific sentiments which should give that word addi
tional emphasis. An interview, therefore, had been solic
ited and granted with ready cordiality, and at 12 o'clock,
on the day of the Exeter Hall meeting, a deputation con
sisting of Chas. Hindley, M. P., Joseph Sturge, Geo. W.
Alexander, John Scoble, Joseph Cooper, Charies Gilpin,
Rev. Henry Richard, and myself repaired to the residence
of the ex-Premier of England, who was still in power,
though not in office. The great statesman, who still
wields an influence which is felt through Europe, received
us with the easy courtesy and affable urbanity of a nat-
6*

66

g,

ELIHU BURRITT.

ural gentleman,-ipviting us to be seated in the chairs
Mr. Hindley then introduced the subject of our mission
with a few observations ; and Mr. Richard gave a short
exposition of the plan of International Treaties of Arbi-
tnition which Mr. Cobden was to propose in the Hous
of Commons on the next day. He adverted briefly to
the operations which the Peace Congress Committee had
mstituted for the purpose of interesting the public mind
m favor of tlie measure to be discussed in PariiaZt
and concluded his observations by expressing the hope o^
the committee that Sir Robert Peel, even if le could no
support the motion of Mr. Cobden, would avail himsel
of t^ie opportunity to give such an expression to his views
on the general subject of Peace as would commend it to
the attention of the governments and statesmen of the
civilized world.
The illustrious Baronet then replied, in a tone and man
ner which evinced his desire to impress us with the con
viction of his sympathy with the spirit and object of all
practical measures for the promotion of peace among the
nations. He spoke of the evils and horrors of war in
strong terms of deprecation, and of the duty of govern
ments to exhaust all pacific and honorable means before
resorting to arms. He referred to the pacific policy which
England had maintained and illustrated for a long course
of years ; to the many instances in which the British gov
ernment l^d offered its mediation between contending
powers. He admitted that the principle of arbitratiof
migh and ought to be adopted in many cases of interna
tional controversy. Still he thought it would be neces
sary to defer a reference to arbitration until the cases
occurred, as it would be impossible to foresee the circum-

SIR ROBERT PEEL.

67

Stances under which they would transpire. He doubted
whether a convention for a settlement by arbitration could
be entered into by governments indefinitely, in advance of
the question to be adjusted. He alluded to some cases
in which arbitration would not be practicable, and others
in which it would be surrounded with difficulties which
could only be met as they occurred.
.We could see that he suggested these objections, not
as insuperable obstacles to the principle of arbitration,
nor in a way to diminish our confidence in its practicabil
ity as an efficient substitute for war, but rather in support
of a foregone conclusion that arbitration could not be
organized with a fixed system, but must be left, as it had
been, to the option of the nations involved in a contro
versy, and to be suited to all the contemporaneous cir
cumstances of the case. Messrs. Sturge, Richard, and
Scoble made a few remarks, after which I was invited, as
an American, to address the renowned statesman.
I remarked that as an American citizen, I was happy
to testify to the importance which the friends of peace in
the United States attached to the pacific sentiments and
policy of Sir Robert Peel. "During the Oregon contro
versy," I continued, " it was my privilege and honor to
be associated with many earnest and philanthropic men
in the effort to prevent the public mind in the United
States from conceiving and entertaining ideas of hostility
towards England in consequence of that question. In
this effort we were seconded most cordially and effect
ively by the friends of peace in England, with whom we
Were in cor^tant correspondence. One of the most in
teresting and successful plans of operation instituted for
the purpose of propagating thoughts of peace and good
will between the two peoples was the interchange of
friendly addresses between English and American com-

68

ELIHU BURRITT.

munities. Most of > the considerable towns in England
addressed these friendly and fraternal communications to
the principal towns in the United States ; and several of
these interesting letters were inserted in, at least 200
newspapers published in different parts of the Union.
Responses breathing the kindliest spirit were returned
from towns in America which had received these friendly
addresses from the mother country. The sentiments- thus
interchanged not only tended to give a pacific bias to the
solution of the question in dispute, but also to revive
feelings of near relationship between the two peoples,
which we trust will go on ripening into good will when
all past differences shall be forgotten. The friends of
peace in both countries were encouraged to persevere in
their efforts by the pacific course which Sir Robert Peel
and his ministry were disposed to take in reference to the
Oregon question. Indeed, the name of Sir Robert Peel
and Lord Aberdeen are intimately associated in the
American mind with the pacific adjustment of that ques
tion. The enlightened sentiments which have been ex
pressed in Parliament on the subject of war have been
extensively published in American journals, and the
friends of peace on both sides of the Atlantic have been
led to hope that you will lend the great weight of your
position and talents to some international arrangement
by which war may be superseded by an arbitrament more
in harmony with the principles of religion, justice, and
humanity." Sir Robert Peel listened with fixed attention and evi
dent interest to these remarks, with which tlte conversa
tion closed. Such was our interview with a statesman
whose grasp and power of intellect have made a deep
mark upon the age. We left his residence inspired with
the hope that our representations might incline him still

MEETING IN EXETER HALL.

69

more prominently to the policy of peace, feeling sure that
any plan he might favor for the abolition of war would
command the considerate attention of the legislators of
Europe. It was now nearly time for the meeting, and we repaired
to Exeter Hall. Although it was neariy an hour before
the time fixed for the opening exercises, nearly a thou
sand people were already in the hall, and the number
was rapidly increasing. The committee-room soon began
to fill with gendemen who had engaged to take part in
the meeting,— including John Bright, and several other
members of Parliament.
After making some preliminaty arrangements for the
exercises of the occasion, the chairman, Chas. Hindley,
M. P., led the way to the platform, and as he and those
who were to take part made their appearance, they were
greeted with several rounds of cheering from an assembly
which had already increased to about 3,000 persons. A
glance at the character and composidon of the audience
realized our faith in a great meeting. About nine-tenths
were men, mostly of the middle class of the community,
all apparently deeply interested in the occasion.
At a little after 6 o'clock the chairman arose and
opened the proceedings in a short and appropriate speech,
alluding to the special objects for which the meeting had
been convened. Rev. Henry Richard next read a brief
summary of the operations of the Peace Congress
Committee since its organization. When he alluded to
our recent mission to Paris, and to our interview with the
illustrious poet-statesman, Lamartine, a long-continued
burst of applause greeted the mention of that honored
name; and when Mr. Richard stated that he had not
only promised to take a part in the proposed Congress at
Paris, as a member, but also to associate himself with

70

ELIHU BURRITT.

Others in preparing for that demonstration, and that he
had also intimated his willingness to come to London
and attend a great ratification meeting in Exeter Hall the
applause of the assembly ascended into vehement en
thusiasm. John Bright, M. P., next arose, and was received with
loud cheers. The spectacle which presented itself at
this moment amounted almost to sublimity. The vast hall
was filled to the extremest corner with thousands of intel
ligent looking men, in the attitude of serious attention
At least six hundred, including a dozen members of Par
liament, occupied the platform. Mr. Bright spoke with
great force for neariy an hour, developing, with much
ability and clearnesss, everal points of the proposition for
arbitration. " War," said he, " never brings peice except
by the complete conquest of one party. But a war be
tween France and England, it may be said, never brings
peace. Negotiation, at some period of the war, brings
peace, and we propose that negotiation should be tried
first For,, bear in mind, that a negotiation, after several
battles have been won and lost is not a fair negotiation ;
there are the conquered and the conqueror who are par
ties to it and justice is not to be done in the ultimate
settlement But upon our system, where you have the
negotiation and the arbitration first the parties have not
yet tried their strength ; they are, in a sense, equal with
each other ; they are cool and more dispassionate than
they can be after a conflict and the ends of justice are
much more likely to be subserved. It does not follow
that you must take governments for adjudicators. France
might say, ' We will not go to an arbitration if the King
of Holland or the Emperor of Russia are selected as
umpires.' Or, the United States might say, ' We will not
go to an arbitration with France, England being the um-

JOSEPH BROTHERTON, M. P.

¦71

pire.' But should not the nations having the dispute
select first from their own citizens, and afterwards from
the citizens of some neutral power, men distinguished
by their ability, their learning, their character for what is
good and upright ? Let these come together, forming, as
It were, a temporary Commission Court, and let them
decide upon the questions in dispute.
" My 'firm conviction is, that with a court so constituted,
hearing the evidence on both sides, having all the docu
ments before them, and hearing the most learned advo
cates, that their decisions would be received by the people
of the country who lost the award with infinitely more
respect than they can ever receive any award that comes
from the bloody arbitrament of the sword."
Joseph Brotherton, M. P., followed Mr. Bright in a
short and well received speech. He said, — " It has been
admitted that the American and French wars cost up
wards of one billion pounds sterling, and involved the
sacrifice of a million of human beings, and yet Lord
John Russell in the House of Commons, a few nights
since, said that in his opinion these two wars were unnec
essary. Now I can tell them that the prayers offered up
during these wars described them as " just and necessary
wars." Yet now, in 1849, we are told upon the high
authority of the prime minister that they were in reality
unnecessary ! Is it not evident that as regarding these
wars, at least arbitration might have been of vast import
ance before extremities had been resorted to ? "
The inimitable, inexhaustible John Burnett next took
the stand, and was received with great applause, in antici
pation of a treat of the richest wit and humor. Nor was
the audience disappointed, for he soon " set the house in
a roar " by his felicitous hits. " People," he said, " might
laugh at the plan of arbitration, but in his opinion the

72

ELIIIU BURRITT.

wariikeplan was infinitely more ludicrous. The inequal-
.ity of horses, a disparity in the power wielding the sword,
or the possession of high powers of strategy in a general!
are circumstances which the merest child can understand
have no connection either with justice or national honor.
I admit that our soldiers are brave, but I never yet met
one courageous enough to admit that he liked war. Why
do they not come forward in the House of Commons
and acknowledge a liking for war, as they do for horse-
racing ? It is really intolerable that the question of arbi
tration should be impeded by the canting phrases of the
House of Commons, ' that it is impracticable, it can't be
done.' Now, in my opinion, a canting House of Commons
is t'he worst of all canting houses, because it is very ex
pensive, and the money comes out of the pocket of those
who are deceived."
The petition of the meeting to Pariiament in favor of
arbitration was next moved by Edward Miall, Esq., editor
of the Nonconformist. The reception which was given
him as he arose was an impressive evidence of the ven
eration which the people cherish for a man who is con
stant to a great principle of truth and righteousness,
against all the influences and associations calculated to
bias him to the right or the left After silence, deep
and thoughtful, had been secured, he opened upon the
still, listening assembly thoughts that breathed with life
and vigor. His graphic delineation of the moral evils
consequent upon the armed-peace system was severely
truthful and impressive. Speaking of the soldiery of the
standing army he said,— "We seldom consider that in
her Majesty's dominions there are now upwards of 100,000
men whose condition can only be accurately described by
the term "slave." They may not think their own thoughts
with a view to action. They are pledged to merge their

WM. EWART, M. P.

73

will in the will of another. They lose all individuality,
and become parts of a great living machine. And, worst
of all, and most descriptive of the utter slaveiy in which
they are held, they are compelled to obedience, in the
last resort by the lash.
" Peoples never desire to go to war with one another.
If warlike passions are ever excited in them, it is by the
action of their governments. But squabbling diplomatists,
quarrelsome governments, the occupants of thrones anx
ious for the celebrity and power of their respective homes,
royal marriages and dynastic changes, — these are ques
tions about which nations are brought into collision.
Take away from governments the instruments and facili
ties of warfare and they will be peaceable enough."
Wm. Ewart M. P., now offered a resolution commend
ing the Peace Congress at Brussels, and the proposition
to hold a similar one at Paris in August next He said
he had the honor of attending the Congress in Brussels,
the recollection of which would never be effaced from
his mind. As they passed along the streets in militaty
order, though not with military insignia, the question
passed among the people, — "Who are they?" and the
answer was, "They are the friends of peace." He hoped
to appear in the same character, with many of his friends,
in the metropolis of France, — that great nation, to which
with this and the United States we must look for the
adoption of peace principles in international affairs. He
would not dispiite the justice of Mr. Burnet's assertion
that the House to which he (Mr. Ewart) belonged was a
"canting House," but he would say that he believed that
it would soon be on this and on other questions a recant-
ing House.
After a few remarks by myself, and the usual vote of
thanks, etc.,- the meeting was dissolved. Such was the
7

74

ELIHU BURRITT.

last crowning demonstration in favor of the measure
which was to be brought forward in the House of Com
mons the following evening. Such was the termination
of the greatest "agitation" for "organized" peace that
was ever mstituted in any country or in any age.
It may be added that Mr. Cobden brought forward
his resolution before a full house, in a powerful and
effective speech, which was followed by a very ani
mated and intelligent discussion. When the vote
was taken more than seventy members were in favor
of its passage, thus clearly indicating that the idea
of stipulated arbitration had-taken strong hold upon
the public mind and could not fail of being resorted
to, sooner or later, by all the governments of Chris
tendom.

CHAPTER VII.
^REPARATIONS FOR A PeACE CONGRESS IN PARIS; INTEREST OF THE
French Government ; Large Delegation from England ;
Noted Men in Attendance ; Great Interest Manifested.
In April, 1849, Mr. Burritt and the Rev. Mr.
Richard went to France for the purpose of making
some preliminary arrangements for holding a Peace
Congress in Paris, in October. Some of the ablest
men of France not only gave ' their adhesion and
sympathy, but their generous and active cooperation
in the object An international ¦ committee of ar
rangements was appointed, composed of such men
as Victor Hugo, Emile de Girardin, Joseph Gamier,
Auguste Visschers (President of the Peace Con
gress in Brussels), Richard Cobden, and others.
M. de Tocqueville, the Minister of Foreign Affairs,
manifested an earnest good-will in the object of the
convention, and invited Messrs. Burritt and Richard
to breakfast with him, and in many ways expressed
his readiness to aid them in any way within his
power in the accomplishment of their noble and
philanthropic mission.
The French government did all in its power to
facilitate the Congress and give to it the stamp of
its approbation. It admitted the whole English and
American delegation without examination of their
baggage, at the custom-house, and without any other
passports than their tickets as members of the Con-
(75)

76

ELIHU BURRITT.

gress. It gave them free access, on the presentation
of these tickets, to all the galleries of paintings,
libraries, and public buildings in Paris. As a finish
ing token of its respect, it directed the fountains of
Versailles and St. Cloud to be played for their spe
cial entertainment— an honor which hitherto had
been paid only to foreign sovereigns visiting Paris.
During the session of the Congress M. de Tocque
ville invited all the delegates to his ofificial residence,
and manifested a deep interest in the cause for which
they had come together.
The Peace Congress of 1849, in Paris, was the
most remarkable assembly that had ever convened
on the continent of Europe, not only for its objects,
but for its personal composition. The English del
egation numbered about seven hundred, and were
conveyed across the Channel by two steamers, spe
cially chartered for the purpose. They not only
represented but headed nearly all the benevolent
societies and movements in Great Britain. Indeed,
Richard Cobden told M. de Tocqueville that if the
t\vo steamers sank with them in the Channel, all
the philanthropic enterprises in the United Kingdom
would be stopped for a year. There was a goodly
number of delegates from the United States, includ
ing Hon. Amasa Walker of Massachusetts, Hon.
Charles Durkee of Wisconsin, President Mahan of
Oberiin College, President Allen of Bowdoin Col
lege, and other men of ability. Nearly all the
European countries were represented by men full of
sympathy with the movement. Victor Hugo was
chosen president, and, supported on each side by

VICTOR HUGO AND OTHERS.

77

vice-presidents of different nations, arose and opened
the proceedings with, probably, 'the most eloquent
and brilliant speech he ever uttered on any occasion.
Emile de Girardin, Abbi Deguerry, Cur6 de la Mad
eleine, the Cocquerels, father and son, spoke with
remarkable power and effect,, as representing the
French members ; Richard Cobden, Rev. John Bur
net, Henry Vincent, and other English delegates
delivered speeches of the happiest inspiration ;
Amasa Walker, President Mahan, Charles Durkee,
and others well represented and expressed American
views and sentiments ; and delegates from Belgium,
Holland, and Germany spoke with great earnestness
and ability. The Congress was continued for three
days, and the interest in its proceedings constantly
increased up to the last moment. The closing
speech of Victor Hugo was eloquent and beautiful
beyond description. Emile de Girardin said of it,
that it did not terminate, but eternised the Congress.
The next day the government gave the great enter
tainment at Versailles, which was varied by a very
pleasant incident. The English members gave the
American delegates a public breakfast in the cele
brated Tennis Hall, or Salle de Paumes, at Ver
sailles, so connected with the great French Revolu
tion. Richard Cobden presided, and testified to the
appreciation, on the part of the English members,
of the zeal for the cause of peace shown by their
American brethren in crossing the ocean to attend
the Congress. A French Testament, with a few
words of pleasant remembrance, signed by himself
as chairman of the meeting, was presented to each

78

i;

ELIHU BURRITT.

of them,— a memento that will, doubtless, be treas
ured in their families as an interesting souvenir of
the occasion.
As at Brussels, an address to the governments
and peoples of Christendom was drawn up by Victor
Hugo, Richard Cobden, and other members of the
committee on resolutions. This was presented to
Louis Napoleon, then President of the French Re
public, by Hugo, Girardin, Cobden, Visschers, and
other national representatives. It urged stipulated
arbitration, proportionate and simultaneous disarm
ament, and a congress of nations, as three measures
for abolishing war and organizing peace between
narions. These propositions were pressed upon him
very ably and earnestly by the deputation, and they
seem to have produced a deep impression upon his
mind ; for, within the last few years, he has proposed
one or two of these measures to the governments
of Europe for the settlement of serious questions,
and for the diminution of armaments in time of
peace. Several young Frenchmen, who attended
the congress as mere boys, were greatly impressed,
and when they came to manhood they organized
"The League of Universal Peace" in Paris, which
has become a powerful organization, and the center
and source of other societies for the same object on
the Continent It was at the annual meeting of this
League of Peace that the celebrated Father Hya
cinthe delivered one of his most eloquent addresses,
which has obtained a very wide circulation as a
model of rhetoric, good sentiment, and logic.
The next Peace Congress was appointed to be

NEXT CONGRESS AT FRANKFORT.

79

held at Frankfort-on-the-Main, in 1850, and it was
determined to make it worthy to follow the great
meeting in Paris. As affording an indication of the
interest and enthusiasm attending these meetings
in Paris, the following extracts are taken from Mr.
Burritt's private journal, in relation to the opening
session :
On our way to the place of meeting the street was
filled with citizens, who gazed silently but with eager
curiosity in their sharp black eyes, as the English dele
gates passed them. The broad-brimmed Quakers with
their benevolent faces, and the Quakeresses with their
immaculate bonnets, were the " observed of all observers."
A large collection of people walled around the entrance
to the hall, and it was with some difficulty that A^e could
press our way through the passage to the platform. Vic
tor Hugo, Richard Cobden, Charles Hindley, and others
of the bureau led the way, and as soon as they made their
appearance they were received with a warm greeting by
the assembly, which was prolonged until the members of
^ the committee and invited guests had become seated.
The first glance was sufficient to indicate that the hall was
to be well filled by an interested audience. The portion
of the room assigned to the delegates was already full,
and presented a modey and novel spectacle. The florid
faces of the English rather predominated, or were the
most conspicuous element in the aspect of the assembly,
contrasting picturesquely with the keen, bloodless, and
moustached countenances of the French on one side, and
the thin, tanned, sallow faces of the Americans on the
other. Below the bar, which divided the delegates from the
visitors, the seats were filled with ladies and gentlemen.

8o

ELIHU BURRITT.

presenting a vista of faces extending to the remotest
gallery all animated with interest in thf opening ^^:Z
ings of the congress^ Joseph Gamier of'paris'a'scended
the tribune, and announced the nomination of the officers
Thel^ ^^"''; t'"^ ""' '''''''^ "^^'^ g^^^t applause.
J. lie list was as follows : o i r
VICTOR HUGO, President.
Vice-Presidents.
^^l ^', ??,T"'" '"^ '^^'^ ^^^' ^^g"^'^^' f°r France.
Richard Cobden and Charies Hindley, for England
Amasa Walker and Charies Durkee, for the United States
Auguste Visschers, for Belgium.
Dr. Carove, for Germany.
D. H. Susingar, for Holland.
Joseph Gamier and M. Ziegler, for France.
Secretaries.
Henry Richard, for England.
Elihu Burritt for the United States.
The President and Vice-President took their seats
greatly cheered by the assembly. Joseph Gamier then
read some of the leading names on the list of French
delegates, and Henry Richard did the same with the
English list and as the most prominent names were
given a general acclamation was elicited. I then as
cended the tribune to read the list of American delegates
and was almost overwhelmed with the reception given
me. Nearly the whole assembly arose, and for neariy
two minutes I was unable to make myself heard. This
token of sympathy and good will was wholly unexpected,
as I have been so long in England and had, as it were,'
become a naturalized citizen. It was indeed a tribute of
attachment before the French, which deeply affected me.

VICTOR HUGO.

1'

I felt the strength and value of that friendship which God
had raised up for me in the father-land.
The preliminaries being completed, Victor Hugo arose
to make his inaugural speech. The whole English dele
gation arose simultaneously and drew the French with
them, and gave the President a reception which evidently
affected him deeply. It was to me a moment of the most
intense interest — the opening of the great drama. When
silence was restored he commenced his address, and
poured out his mighty thoughts with all the fervid glow
of his poetic genius. Each sentence seemed to be an
oration condensed into the soul of eloquence, and as
the lofty and burning periods fell upon the assembly they
responded to their power by repeated bursts of applause.
Some of his passages were worthy of being chased in
gold. Here is one : "A day wfll come when a cannon
wfll be exhibited in public museums, just as an instru
ment of torture is now, and people will be amazed that
such a thing could ever have been. A day will come when
those two immense groups, the United States of America,
and the United States of Europe, wfll be seen placed in
the presence of each other, extending the hand of fellow
ship across the ocean, — exchanging their produce, their
commerce, their industries, their arts, their genius, —
clearing the earth, peopling the desert improving creation
under the eye of the Creator, and uniting, for the- good
of all, these two irresistible and infinite powers, — the fra
ternity of men and the power of God."
When' he had uttered the last sentence of this noble
speech several rounds of truly English cheers were given,
with an energy that seemed to astonish the French part
of the assembly. It was, indeed, a splendid effort, and
deeply impressed the whole audience.

CHAPTER VIII.
Returns to America ; Grand Demonstration in his Native
Town ; Address of Welcome ; Response, etc
On his return home Mr. Burritt received from the
citizens of his native town and vicinity a demon
stration of welcome which afforded him the highest
gratification. Three years had passed since he had
left. America, and these years had been most ear
nestly devoted to the advocacy of peace, arbitration,
and cheap ocean postage. He had been instru
mental in awakening a deep and wide-spread inter
est in these subjects, and had enlisted the sympathy
and co-operation of many of the best and most prom
inent men of Europe. His labors abroad, and the
honor with which he was there regarded, awakened
a degree of pride in the hearts of his fellow citizens
which found expression in the most cordial manner.
As indicative of the feeling of the people, and of
their appreciation of his efforts, and a sense of the
honor done them in the honor bestowed upon one
of their number, we shall give a somewhat full ac
count of the reception tendered Mr. Burritt by those
among whom his early years had been spent It -
seems but just that this record should be made, that
those who follow him may realize how his labors
were regarded by those who knew him best, and at
the period of his greatest usefulness and influence.
During Mr. Burritt's absence, the people of New
(82)

ADDRESS OF WELCOME.

83

i i..

Britain had erected a large and commodious Town
hall, which was completed but a short time before
his return. This hall was most tastefully decorated
with evergreens and mottoes, and brilliantly illumi
nated on the evening of his reception. On the
wall directly at the rear of the speaker's platform,
an arch of evergreens was formed, with the inscrip
tion, " Qinsqtie sum foi'tunce faber." In various
parts of the hall were beautifully wrought mottoes
of — "Peace," "Arbitration versus War," "Ocean
Penny Postage." The large hall was closely filled
in every part and hundreds were unable to gain
admission. After the organization of the meeting
the late Prof. E. A. Andrews, then an honored citi
zen of New Britain and author of note, made the
following address of welcome :
" Mr. Burritt : Your fellow-citizens here assembled
have authorized me, as their representative, to express to
you their most cordial welcome on your return once more
to your native village, and to the scenes and companions
of your early life. You will see, sir, in the circle which
surrounds you, not a few of those who here commenced
life with you, whose childhood was inured to similar toils,
who shared in the same active sports, and who daily
resorted to the same humble school-room, where your lit
erary ardor, which ever since those days has burned so
brightly, was first enkindled. In the name of each of
these, and of all your old associates and early friends
here present and, above all, in the name of your fair
friends who in such numbers grace this large assemblage,
and by whose hands these rooms have been so beautifully
adorned for this occasion, I bid you, sir, a hearty wel-

84

ELIHU BURRITT.

come, after long absence, to your native land, and to
those scenes endeared to you by the memory of kindred
and of home. These all, in common with distinguished
friends here present from other towns, men to whom our
State looks for counsel, and on whom its freemen ever
dehght to bestow their highest honors, rejoice in this
opportunity of manifesting their respect for one who, by
eminent success in the pursuit of knowledge, in circum
stances of unusual difficulty, has reflected so much honor
on his native land. Arduous indeed is that student's
path, who, trusting to his own unaided efforts, firmly re
solves to win for himself that wreath of fame which like
the crown of Israel's flrst king, is bestowed on those alone
who tower in stature far above the surrounding multitude.
Such a path, sir, we have seen you tread ; and, with min
gled emotions of joy and pride we now congratulate you
upon a success so complete that it may well satisfy the
loftiest ambition. We especially rejoice that a literary
reputation so well earned is now fully known and recog
nized, not in our own country only, but equally so in for
eign lands.
" But sir, we would not in our admiration of intellect
ual cultivation, forget the still more important culture of
the heart. We have witnessed with the highest satisfac
tion that while eagerly devoted to the pursuit of knowl
edge, and while ministering to your own necessities by
laboring daily with your own hands, you have cheerfully
devoted your powers and attainments to the task of elevat
ing the social and moral condition of mankind. To do
this, and to do it wisely, is the greatest problem of this
and of every age— a problem to be solved in no other
manner than by following the teachings of unerring Wis
dom. Amidst the conflicting views of mankind in relation
to the proper means for the attainment of this great end,

I

ADDRESS OF WELCOME.

85

we can still rest in the assured ¦ confidence that the long
night of error will at last draw to its close, and the dawn
of that better day will beam upon the nations. Toco-
operate with the plans of Infinite Wisdom in hastening
forward this consummation is the proper mission of man.
The day, we trust may even now be near, when orgafiized
systems of oppression and violence will vanish away ;
when- the feebler shall find in the more powerful, not
oppressors, but friends and protectors ; and when the
controversies of nations — if such controversies shall then
exist — shall be settled, not by violence, but by the eternal
principles of justice.
" We are gratified, sir, that your efforts have been di
rected, with such flattering success, to the means for
removing from the minds of men a belief in the necessity
of a final appeal to arms in adjusting national disputes.
In this enterprise the wise and good of all. nations will
bid you God speed ; and surely the blessing of the Prince
of Peace will rest on those who, in imitation of his exam
ple, seek to promote ' peace on earth.'
" . . . Once more, sir, in the name of my fellow-citi
zens, and, may I be permitted to add, in my own name
also, I bid you a hearty welcome to your native town.
We regret that your visit is so brief, but hope that short
as it is, it will serve to impress the conviction still more
deeply upon your heart that whatever honors await you
abroad, in the society of the learned and noble of other
lands, you can nowhere be regarded with more sincere
affection than by the people of this vfllage, and by the
circle of the friends by whom you are now surrounded."
At the conclusion of the address by Prof. Andrews
Mr. Burritt arose, and with deep feeling spoke as
follows :

86

ELIHU BURRITT.

" I can assure you, friends and fellow-citizens, that I
know not how to find words to express the emotions in
spired by this remarkable occasion. I cannot realize
that I am the special guest of these magnificent hospital
ities, the subject of this overpowering demonstration of
welcome. I can hardly realize my own experience, which
has been crowned this evening with the most memorable
and precious incident of my life. It seems like a dream
to me to find myself in the midst of the neighbors and
friends of my boyhood under these wonderful circum
stances. While listening with deep emotion to the warm
and flattering words which have been so feelingly ad
dressed to me in your behalf, and while reading in your
faces the evidence that these were the expression of your
sentiments towards me, I have been trying to think what
I have done, or been, since I left my native village, to
have merited, in the slightest degree, this brilliant bewil
dering testimonial of your respect and good will. And
can all these beautiful and touching circumstances, and
these faces, so familiar to my boyhood, and now beaming
on me with lively expressions of welcome— can these
magic symbols, these fair-wrought illustrations of Peace
and Brotherhood— can all the dazzling and affecting
features of this spectacle be a reality ? And, who am I,
and what was my father's house, that you have assigned
to me such a place, such a part to act and such a condi
tion to enjoy, in this splendid scene ? It seems to me
but as yesterday that I went out from your midst a timid
young man, with the meekest aspirations and humblest
hopes. I went away pensively, on foot carrying under
my arm all I owned in the world, tied up in a small hand
kerchief. So far as I can recall the thoughts which
passed my mind during the long walks of that pedestrian
journey, I can truly say that a life of contented and ob-

MR. BURRITT'S RESPONSE.

87

scure usefulness was the height of my earthly ambition.
My anticipations had this extent no more. And I can
say with equal truth and sincerity, and I desire to say it
gratefully, on this the most distinguished occasion that I
have ever seen, or ever expect to see in life, that ff my
course has diverged from that condition in which I had
expected to pass my days, not unto me be the merit or
honor of the changes, but to that kind overruling Provi
dence, which has led me, by a series of almost impercep
tible stages, into a field of labor and experience of which
I had no conception when I left the place of my birth,
three years ago.
" When I look back over some of the passages of my
experience for the last twelve years, and dwell upon the
succession of apparently trivial incidents which gave
direction and impulse to my course, I can see revealed,
in distinct manifestations, that guiding hand which has
bent my path to its purpose from my youth up, and to
which I would commit the conduct of my future days. I
can see how all my settled predilections and purposes
were changed by these incidents, and concentrated upon
objects of pursuit which I had never contemplated with
special interest.
" For the first five years of my residence in Worcester I
devoted all the leisure hours, which occurred in the inter
vals of manual labor, to the study of languages, and to
other literary pursuits, rather as a source of enjoyment
than as the means of future usefulness. When my tastes
for these recreations had strengthened almost to a pas
sion, my mind was biased in a new direction by an inci
dent which impressed it with the convicdon that there
was something to' live for besides the mere gratification
of a desire to learn — that there were words to be spoken
with the living tongue and earnest heart for great princi-

ELIHU BURRITT.
pies of truth and righteousness, as well as to be"Tommit-
ted to a silent memory from the dead languages of the
ancient worid. To that conviction I yielded the literary
predilections and pursuits which had engrossed my hours
of leisure and nearly all the thoughts I could divert from
my daily avocation.
"In 1844 I commenced the publication of a weekly
papers m Worcester, devoted to the- advocacy of Peace
Human Freedom, and Brotherhood. A new field of labor
gradually opened before me, and introduced me almost
to a new life. The principles and convictions of perma
nent and universal Peace and Brotherhood gradually
enlisted my convictions and sympathies, and I gave my
self to their advocacy with increasing interest and devotion
"After laboring in this field for two years, an incident
connected with the Oregon controversy between this
countty and Great Britain brought me into communication
with several devoted friends of Peace in England It
was this circumstance which led me to visit that countty
in 1846. I designed to be absent only four months ; but
on my arrival in England most unexpected opportunities
of useful labor were opened up before me ; and here
again all my pre-arranged plans were changed. I had
formed, as it were, a programme of operations in the
mother-countty before I left America, which I most reso
lutely determined to carry out One of the plans was to
travel on foot through the kingdom, and meet small cir
cles of the laboring classes of the people in small upper
rooms, in the different villages through which I passed
And after having spent two or three weeks in Manchester
and Birmingham, I buckled on my knapsack, and started
on my pedestrian tour. I walked about one hundred and
fifty miles in this way, holding these social conversational
meetings at night. But I was soon induced to come
* The Christian Citijen.

f

MR. burritt's RESPONSE.

89

down from these little upper rooms, and to address large
audiences assembled in public halls. Everywhere I met
with the kindest reception, and found devoted and generous
friends. "A year rolled around, and wider doors of successful
labor opened before me. A series of remarkable inci
dents transpired to create new opportunities, not only for
indoctrinating the public mind in England with the prin
ciples of Peace and Human Brotherhood, but also for
disseminating those principles on the continent of Europe.
It was one of these incidents which suggested the idea of
a Peace Convendon in Paris; but how small was that
idea at its inception compared with the result !
" It was in Manchester, the next day after the recent
French Revolution, that, in conference with a few indi
viduals in that city, it was resolved to tty the experiment
of holding a little upper-room meeting in Paris, of such
friends of Peace from different countries as should be
disposed to attend it. At that time we dared not aspire
to call the proposed meeting a Peace Convention, but a
Peace Conference. That idea resulted in the Peace Con
gress at Brussels in 1848, held in the most magnificent
hall in that city, under the immediate auspices of the
Belgian Government. Perhaps it is not too much to say
that no human hope ventured to expect such a result
from the first attempt to raise the white standard of Peace
on the continent. It was a grand demonstration, which
made a deep impression upon the public mind in Europe,
and gave the Peace Movement a new phase and impetus.
Distinguished men of different countries came into it,
and operations on a grander scale were instituted, to
press the subject upon the attention of all governments ;
and last August ushered into the world the grand Peace
Congress at Paris, which has been accepted as an illus-^

90

ELIHU BURRITT.

trious event in the history of nations. This impressive
and august demonstration is to be followed by another of
greater importance still, in the month of August ne.\t at
Frankfort on the Main, in Germany; and we are now
endeavoring to secure at least a hundred delegates from
the United States, to represent this country in that great
Peace Pariiament of the Worid. We are holding two or
three State Peace Conventions every week, for the pur
pose of appointing these delegates. Yesterday the friends
of Peace met in convention at Hartford, and there voted
that you, sir, should be requested to represent this State
in the Peace Congress at Frankfort. And I trust, sir,
that no unpropitious circumstances will constrain you to
decline this noble mission ; but that the high moral prin
ciple, the profound attainments, dignified urbanity, and
mature judgment which render you an honor to our na
tive vfllage will at Frankfort redound to the credit of
this State and nation, and to the advancement of a cause
with which you were so early identified.
"Friends and fellow-citizens, neighbors of my youth,
what shall I say to you for this most wonderful and unex
pected manifestation of your generous esteem and sym
pathy ? I am sure that no words of mine are needed to
enable you to understand the emotions which I experience
at this moment. There cannot be a mind within the
circle of these happy circumstances that could doubt for
a moinent that this is the happiest the proudest moment
of my life. I have received many flattering tesdmonials
of consideration and esteem in Great Britain ; but the
little village of New Britain is the world of my childhood,
the birthplace of my first hopes and aspirations, of my
first affections ; and all the tendrils and fibres of my
young and earnest love are thrown around it and all its
interests, and all its inhabitants, with all the glow and

BRIEF SPEECHES.

91

warmth of its first strength. Think you not that it is a
crowning, moment of rejoicing to my heart that the course
of life and labor which Providence has made for my feet
has elicited from you, friends of my childhood, this re
markable testimonial of your approbation and esteem ?
I cannot form into' words the feelings of gratitude and
gratulation with which this scene and occasion inspire
me. I know you will accept the sentiment for the expres
sion. I can only say, that in that future of Ufe and labor
which may be reserved for me, I shall remember this
evening, and tty, by Divine help, so to act as not to tar
nish this illustrious token of your favor, or give New
Britain cause to regret or forget that I also was her son.
" As I go forth again from the home of my youth, the
remembrance of your great kindness on this occasion wfll
stimulate me to my highest and best efforts for the ad
vancement of the great principles of Peace and Human
Brotherhood." Mr. Burritt's address was followed by brief
speeches from Rev. Dr. Bushnell and Charles Chap
man of Hartford, Dr. Woodward of Middletown,
Hon. J. M. Niles, and others, after which the multi
tude were invited to a lower room, where tables had
been arranged with exquisite taste and loaded with
everything that could tempt the appetite. After
spending an hour here the company returned to the
hall, and another season was given to addresses and
music. At a late hour the hall was vacated, and all
returned to their homes with a feeling that they had
passed a delightfully pleasant evening.
This occasion probably called together a greater
number of people, and prompted to a more sincere

92

ELIHU BURRITT.

and cordial manifestation of interest in and approval
of Mr. Burritt's labors, than any other event has
witnessed in the town of his birth. In alluding to
this occasion in his journal, Mr. Burritt wrote as
follows :
This was the most memorable day of my life, when I
received the highest testimonial of esteem and considera
tion that wfll ever be conferred on me in this worid. It
was the climax of my earthly experience, and I could
hardly realize the scene, or believe that I was standing
before the neighbors and friends of my youth under such
circumstafices. There were the men for whom I had
worked in almost every capacity, all looking upon me
with kindness, as if peculiarly interested in their relation
ship as neighbors to me. . . . May God grant that I
may never do anything to tarnish the honor of this occa
sion. May he ever keep me humble and of a chfld-like
spirit. Surely His loving kindness has been round about
me from my youth up. May it uphold me in all my
weakness, and give me wisdom to know and strength to
do His will."

CHAPTER IX.
Visits Worcester, Washington— Calls on Members of Con
gress ; Death of John C. Calhoun; His Funeral; Phil
adelphia; Pittsburgh ; Wheeling; Cincinnati ; Louisville ;
St. Louis ; Chicago ; Returns to Massachusetts ; Sails
for England.
In the early part of the winter of 1850, Mr. Bur
ritt spent several weeks in Worcester, Mass., in
making such arrangements for the publication of
the Christian Citizen as would relieve himself from
care and anxiety. At this time he associated Mr.
J. B. Syme, of Edinburg, as his co-editor with Mr.
Drew,. in the management of the paper. He then
went oh a lecturing tour through most of the States
of the union, mainly for the purpose of awakening
an interest in the cause of peace, and securing the
appointment of delegates to the Peace Congress to
be held at Frankfort in the autumn of 1850. He
was everywhere very cordially received, and his lec
tures were largely attended and listened to with
deep interest Such was the reputation and fame
that preceded him that, in many instances, the best
accommodations on the steamers of the westem
rivers and in the leading hotels of cities were freely
tendered to him A few extracts from his journal
will give some idea of his mission and his reception:
Washington, March 31," 1850. After dinner I cafled
on Mr. Tuck, M. C, and had a long conversation with
(93)

94

ELIHU BURRITT.

him on the Peace cause, which had brought me to the
city. After a short time he proposed to accompany me
in a call on Horace Mann, then a member of Congress.
We were very kindly received by Mr. Mann, who seemed
deeply interested in my plans, and in full sympathy with
the cause in which I was engaged. He very readily and
cheerfully proffered any aid within his power to give.
^ This day has been marked by a great and impressive
event— the death of the Hon. yohn C. Calhoun. No
other man has filled so prominent a position in the polit
ical affairs of the United States. No one can fill his
place, and it may well remain vacant hereafter. He
acquired a remarkable ascendency over the South, and
possessed wonderful qualifications for a political leader.
On a previous visit to Washington I had been honored
by an interview with him and found him in sympathy
with the Peace movement. ^«,
Spent the evening with Judge Allen of Massachusetts,
Joshua Giddings of Ohio, and Mr. Julian of Indiana, all
genial spirits and true to the cause of Peace, as well as
that of human freedom. The two last named promise to
attend the Frankfort Congress.
April I. This day I had an interview with Henry
Clay, by whom I was received with stately urbanity. I
made a few statements in relation to the Peace operations.
He iivas very courteous, and while he expressed his ap
proval of all judicious efforts for abolishing war, he
doubted whether, in the present state of society, men
would acquiesce in the award of arbitration. He advised
us to submit our proposition to the Executive, and after '
that to bring it before Congress. Upon the whole our
interview was very pleasant arid satisfactory.
We next went to the Capitol, with the hope of getting
into the Senate Chamber to hear the speeches there to

J. C. CALHOUN S FUNERAL.

95

be made on the death of Mr. Calhoun, but it was jammed
full before our arrival. Through the kindness of Gov.
Cleveland of Connecticut we were furnished seats in the
House of Representatives, where I was introduced to
many members with whose names I was familiar. The
death of Mr. Calhoun was announced by Mr. Holmes of
South Carolina, in a highly eulogistic speech, in which he
gave a detailed and glowing account of the life and ser
vices of the deceased statesman. He was followed in an
elegant speech by R. C. Winthrop of Boston, after which
Mr. Venable of North Carolina made a brief and appro
priate closing address.
April 2, 1850. At II o'clock we went to the Capitol,
to which multitudes were thronging, to witness the funeral
ceremonies of Mr. Calhoun. It was an impressive sight
and evinced the great respect entertained for the charac
ter and.-position of the departed statesman. We went to
the house in which the corpse lay, and took a last look of
the remains of earthly greatness. His old compeers of
the Senate were present, of whom Messrs. Clay, Webster,
Berrien, Cass, Mangum, and King, walked by the side of
the hearse, as pall bearers. His \)ody was borne to the
Congressional Cemetety — the procession being at least a
mile long. The President and heads of department were
present and the members of both Houses.
April 4. Left for Philadelphia, where a convention
had been called for the purpose of organizing a State
Peace Association. The meeting was to be held in the
Chinese Museum, and on my arrival I found about two
hundred delegates present many of whom were Quakers.
It was decided to organize a permanent State Peace Soci
ety. The meeting adjourned till evening, then to assem
ble in Musical Fund Hall. At the appointed hour this
great hall was completely filled by a very intelligent

96

ELIHU BURRITT.

audience, including many of the dlite of Philadelphia.
The exercises opened with a very able and interesting
speech by Dr. Paterson, of Philadelphia. I followed
with a speech an hour long, and secured and kept the
attention of the audience throughout. It was very grat
ifying to feel that the great meeting was so much in sym
pathy with the principles and progress of the cause. Rev.
Mr. Willete made an eloquent and impressive speech,
which was warmly applauded. He was formerly active
in our League meetings in Massachusetts. At the close of
the meeting Prof. Cleveland and Hon. Walter Forward,
formerly Secretary of the U. S. Treasury, were appointed
as delegates at large to the Frankfort Congress, and sev
eral others were appointed to represent the various Con
gressional districts. As a whole the convention was highly
interesting and successful.
Pittsburgh, April 8. Reached this city at 6.o'clock,
and took lodgings at the Monongaliela Houie. The
spectacle presented by twelve large Western steamboats,
lying side by side, in the river was truly striking, and I
felt indeed that I was standing in the door-way of the
mighty West In the afternoon several gentlemen called
and met me very cordially. One of them, Mr. Hanna,
went with me to the telegraph office and very kindly
fratiked half a dozen lightning messages for me to sev
eral western cities. Mr. Bakewell took me about the
city and showed its location and character from the most
commanding and picturesque points of view. We also
visited the glass works of Mr. Bakewell, where I wit
nessed most marvellous and magic feats of skill, in the
art of working that material into every imaginable shape,
which to me was a great novelty. In the evening Wilkins
Hall was completely filled by an intelligent audience,
who listened with close attention and apparent interest

GRACE GREENWOOD.

97

/"

for an hour, to my lecture on the " Brotherhood of Na
tions." At the close of my address a large number of
people came forward to grasp my hand and express their
interest and among them was Philetus Dean, who nearly
twenty years previously had been my pupil in Glastonbuty,
Conn. An incident that greatly pleased me was, that a
young man stepped up to me and, with much emotion.
Showed me a letter written to him by me in England, in
which I had given him advice in reference to emigrating
to America. He said he had followed my advice and
was now doing well. He thanked me, over and over
again, with a lively expression of gratitude. It was quite
a scene, as a large circle had gathered around us and
appeared deeply interested in the occurrence.
April 9. Mr. Hanna called eariy in the morning to
accompany me to a large iron establishment in which I
was greatly interested. I afterwards called to see the
celebrated "Grace Greenwood," or Sarah Jane Clark.
She is an interesting young lady, with all the frolicsome
genius of her mind sparkling in her eyes. I had a vety
pleasant interview, and found her in complete sympathy
with the Peace movement as well as with all others de
signed to promote the well-being of mankind. At noon
I left for Wheeling on board the Hibernia, one of the
great floating palaces of the Ohio river— having been ¦
accompanied to the boat by Messrs. Hanna, Murphy,
Taylor, and others, who bade me adieu with the warmest
expressions of sympathy and good will. Truly I have
cause for gratitude to God for all his kindness in giving
me friends and supporters in my work. I was soon afloat
on the noble Ohio for the first time. The clerk of the
boat came to me and tendered a free passage, with all
the privileges of the steamer— an act of kindness I
greatly appreciated. At Wheeling I found an audience
9

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ELIHU BURRITT.

of about three hundred, who gave close and thoughtful
attention to my .lecture— after which several gentlemen
accompanied me to the hotel and remained some time in
conversation. Wheeling, April lo. Mr. Wharton, editor of the
Gazette, called and took me about the town and across
the Wheeling Suspension Bridge. This is the most stu
pendous fabric of the kind in America, or in the world.
The length of span is more than i,ooo feet and its
capacity of burden is estimated at 6,000 tons. Mr. Whar
ton was the founder of this magnificent- enterprise — not
only originating the idea, but pressing it through into a
grand and practical reality by his persevering exertions.
He also took me to one of the free schools which have
been established through his influence and agency. Mr.
W. is a New England man, formerly of Fltchburg, Mass.
At Wheeling the Rev. Mr. Armstrong was appointed del
egate to the Frankfort Congress, and a prominent citizen
offered to defray his expenses. At 10 p. m. I left on the ¦
steamer for Cincinnati.
April II. Nothing in the way of traveling can equal
the comfort and elegance of these western boats. In the
evening I was invited, by a committee of the passengers,
to give an address, and at 9 o'clock a large assembly
gathered in the elegant saloon and listened very atten
tively, for nearly an hour, to an address on the Paris
Congress, and the progress of the Peace movement
This was quite an incident in my life. My audience was
composed of prominent men from nearly every State of
the Union.
Cincinnati, April 12. Just as the sun was rising we
reached this great city of the West I was very cordially
received and in the evening the great Wesley chapel was
crowded full, and among the audience were many of the

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LOUISVILLE.

99

best citizens, including several clergymen and other pro
fessional men. I gave my lecture on the " Brotherhood of
Nations," in which the audience appeared much interested.
I presented the plan and object of the Frankfort Peace
Congress, and steps were taken for the appointment of
delegates to the same.
Louisville, Ky., April 17, 1850. I arrived at this
city yesterday morning, and during the day several prom
inent citizens called to bid me a cordial welcome. Gov.
Crittenden and many others were vety courteous and
kind. There appears to be an open-hearted deportment
in these Kentuckians that is vety engaging. In the
evening the large church of Rev. Mr. Lehon was filled in
every part and hundreds were unable to gain entrance.
The audience was one of the most intelligent looking and
attentive I had ever addressed, and though the aisles
were filled with people who were obliged to stand, not
one left before the meeting closed, and then hundreds
came forward to assure me of their sympathy and co
operation. April 19. When about to leave for St. Louis, I called
upon the clerk of the Gait House for my bill, and was
informed that it had been settled — an act of generosity
and kindness that deeply affected me. On taking the
steamer for St. Louis I was vety kindly welcomed by the
captain to all the privileges of the boat. Surely kindness
has attended all my steps in my western tour, and I have
evetywhere been treated with the greatest respect
The same kindness which had thus far been manifested
toward me, and the same interest in the objects I pre
sented, were exhibited at St Louis, Cleveland, Chicago,
and other cities, and I had occasion to feel deeply grate
ful for the very generous and cordial manner in which I
was everywhere treated, and my entire tour at the West

ICG

ELIHU BURRITT.

will ever be associated with the pleasantest memories of
my life.
In the early part of May, Mr. Burritt left Chicago
for the East, to make preparations for sailing to
Europe. He left Boston on one of the Cunard
Steamers, on the 15th of the month, and landed at
Liverpool on the 30th. He immediately proceeded
to London, where his friends received him gladly,
and contributed all in their power to promote his
comfort and happiness. Pres. Hitchcock of Amherst
College, John Prentice of New Hampshire, and'
John Tappan of Boston, all delegates to the Frank
fort Congress, accompanied Mr. Burritt to Europe.
The last named gentleman, on learning that Mr.
Burritt had taken a second-class berth, quietly ex
changed for first-class accommodations, paid the
difference, and placed the same to the use of Mr.
Burritt, an act so kindly and pleasantly performed
as to reflect great credit upon the generous donor,
and awakened the most grateful feelings in the
heart of the recipient.

,#

CHAPTER X.
Working for Frankfort Congress ; Meeting of the Con
gress; Various Delegations; Organization ; Proceedings ;
Effort for Arbitration; Olive Leaf. Mission; Ocean
Penny Postage.
Mr. Burritt believed in work, as well as in words,
and immediately after his return to England he went
upon the continent with his earnest co-worker, Mr.
Richards, to prepare for the approaching Frankfort
Congress. They visited nearly all the principal
towns in Germany, including Hamburg, Berlin,
Dresden, Munich, and Stutgard. They had inter
views with many of the distinguished men in Ger
many, and secured their co-operation in the objects
of the congress. Among those whose interest they
enlisted, were Alexander Von Humboldt, Prof.
Liebig, Tholuck, Hengstenberg, and other eminent
men. The Congress at Frankfort was held on the 22d,
23d, and 24th of August, 1850. It was in numbers
and spirit all its most sanguine friends could have
hoped for. It was more fully representative of
European countries than any previous congress had
been. It required two special steamers to convey
the English delegates up the Rhine. There were
delegates from all the German States, and some
from Italy. France was well represented. Auguste
Visschers, President of the Brussels Congress, was
g* (loi)

hi.

102

ELIHU BURRITT.

present ; and full of earnest activity and zeal. The
American delegation was large and influential, in
cluding Pres. Hitchcock of Amherst College, Rev. E.
Chapin, Rev. Dr. Bullard, and many other influential
men from different States.
Richard Cobden was not only a leading spirit in
the congress, but was present several days before
the opening as a member of the committee of organ
ization, and gave most valuable aid in the prepara
tion of the resolutions to be presented for discus
sion, which was regarded as a preparatory work of
the greatest importance. The German members of
the committee were most hearty in their co-opera
tion, and the whole population of Frankfort mani
fested a lively interest in the new and strange
Parliament that was to be held in the city of German
Emperors. Its place of assembly was specially ap
propriate. It was the great and venerable St. Paul's
Church, in which the Parliament of New Germany
assembled in 1848, in the unsuccessful attempt to
reconstruct the great Fatherland on a new basis of
Union, Freedom, and Fraternity. Herr Jaup of
Darmstadt was chosen President, Professor Liebig,
Richard Cobden, M. de Girardin, Auguste Visschers,
and Professor Hitchcock were some of the Vice-
Presidents. The congress lasted three days, and
all the proceedings were marked with a harmonious
and earnest spirit. The same measures as at Paris
were discussed and approved, and an address adopted
to the governments arid peoples of Christendom,
pressing upon their attention these plans for " organ
izing peace," — to use Lamartine's expression.

INTERESTING INCIDENT.

103

An incident of peculiar interest occurred at the
last .session of the congress. A war had already
broken out between Schleswig-Holstein and Den
mark, upon a question in which all Germany, espe
cially Prussia, was involved. A number of influen
tial men in Berlin desired the congress to express
an opimon on the merits of the question, and tele-
, graphed to that effect, asking that a hearing might
be given to a commissioner that had been dispatched
to Frankfort for that purpose. This was Dr.
Bodenstedt, a very learned and able man, and
earnest partisan of the Schleswig-Holstein cause.
But the congress could not entertain the proposi
tion, as it was precluded by one of its fundamental
rules from meddling with any local or current que§,-
tion of controversy. But after consultation witli
Dr. Bodenstedt, it was thought allowable and proper
that three members of the congress should go in a
voluntary, or individual capacity, to the belligerent
parties, and try to induce them to refer the contro
versy to arbitration. Consequently, on the return
of the English and American delegation from Frank
fort, Joseph Sturge, Frederic Wheeler, and Elihu
Burritt left them at Cologne, and proceeded to
Berlin, where they met Dr. Bodenstedt and his
friends, and procured letters of introduction and
other directions for their mission. Then they pro
ceeded immediately to Kiel, and had an interview
with the members of the provisional government,
and laid before them the object of their mission.
They were well received, and letters were given
them to the military authorities at Rendsburg, the

104

ELlHU BURRITT.

headquarters of the army, which was preparing for
another battle with the Danes. They repaired to
that fortress, and had a long interview with the civil
and military chiefs, and submitted to them the sim
ple proposition whether, at that stage of hostilities,
they would consent to refer the difificulty to arbitra
tion if the Danish government would do the same.
Having fought so long, and feeling able and deter
mined to win their cause by arms, they hesitated as
to the form of their consent to the proposition, lest
it might indicate weakness ; but the deputation put
it so conditionally on the corresponding action of
the Danes, that they fully acceded to the proposed
basis of settlement.
Having obtained the consent of the Schleswig-Hol-
steiners to refer the question to arbitration, the dep
utation next proceeded to Copenhagen and had sev
eral interviews with the Danish ministers. Here a
difificulty of another nature had to be met and
overcome. To submit the question to arbitration
was, to a certain or sensible degree, to recognize the
Schleswig-Holsteiners as an independent people, on
the same national footing as the Danes themselves.
The deputation addressed themselves to this diffi
culty with great earnestness and assiduity. There
is no question that the simple eloquence of Joseph
Sturge's goodness of heart and the plea he made
with tears moistening and illuminating the beautiful
radiance of his benevolent face, impressed the Dan
ish minister more deeply than any mere diplo
matic communication could have done. At any rate,
the peculiar difificulty involved in the proposed refer-

ATTEMPTED NEGOTIATION.

lOS

T

m

ence was waived, and the Danish government con
sented to the preliminary steps to arbitration. The
foreign minister nominated a distinguished civilian
to be put in correspondence with some one chosen
to the same position by the Schleswig-Holstein au
thorities ; and the deputation left Copenhagen, feel
ing that one step towards the settlement of an ag
gravated question had been accomplished. They
again proceeded to Kiel, and announced the result
of their mission to Denmark, and a gentleman of
great ability and judgment was appointed to be the
medium of communication with the gentleman ap
pointed by the Danes. Messrs. Sturge and Wheeler
now returned to England, leaving Mr. Burritt to
conduct the correspondence necessary to the gradual
induction of direct negotiation between the two par
ties to the dispute. He remained three months in
Hamburg for this purpose, and had considerable cor
respondence with the Danish authorities on the sub
ject But just as the negotiations seemed on the
point of effecting a settlement by arbitration, the
Austrians marched into Schleswig-Holstein, and
sprung a judgment upon the case, and closed it sum
marily. The effort, however, to settle the question
by arbitration, even when the parties were at open
war, evidently made a favorable impression upon the
public mind, and it would probably have succeeded
had it not been interrupted by forcible interference.
While Mr. Burritt was in Hamburg, he originated
a quiet scheme of operations for bringing the spirit,
principles, and objects of the Peace movement before
the masses of the people of the continent of Europe.

io6

ELIHU BURRITT.

This was the revival or application of the Olive Leaf
system which he had set on foot in the United
States. He first arranged with a newspaper of large
circulation in Paris to insert, once a month, about
a column and a half of matter, made up of short par
agraphs from such writers as Erasmus, Robert Hall,
Dr. Chalmers, Cobden, Channing, Worcester, Ladd,
and other distinguished authorities. This was called
"An Olive Leaf for the People." The French paper
charged one hundred francs for each Olive Leaf
inserted ; but for this sum it not only printed, but
circulated all over France, thirty thousand copies
monthly, and that, too, with the virtual commenda
tion, as well as responsibility, of the editor, effecting
a work of enlightenment which could not have been
accomplished for five hundred dollars through the
medium of tracts, even if their distribution had been
allowed. The plan worked so well in France, that
Mr. Burritt entered into arrangements with the lead
ing journals of Germany, and other continental coun
tries, for the monthly publication of an Olive Leaf of
the same character. The conductors of these jour
nals were willing to make liberal terms for the inser
tion, partly out of sympathy with the matter, and
partly because it.was put among the selections made
by the editor, and did not occupy any space given
to paid advertisements. The average price of each
insertion in these German, Dutch, Danish, and Italian
journals was about six dollars. To make this opera
tion the more effective, it was desirable and neces
sary that it should be conducted very quietly ; that
its very origin and support should be virtually con-

OLIVE LEAF MISSION.

107

m

cealed from the readers of the Olive Leaves, that
they might receive them as from their own editors,
and not know that their insertion was paid for. On
returning to England, in the spring of 185 1, the
League of Universal Brotherhood, of which Mr.
Edmund Fry, a most indefatigable worker, had
become the secretary, resumed its independent field
of labor, embracing two special operations. The
first was the agitation for an Ocean Penny Postage,
the other, "The Olive Leaf Mission," as just
described. Up to this time the ladies of Great
Britain had never been especially enlisted in any
department of the Peace movement. The Olive
Leaf Mission seemed to present a very appropriate
and effective enterprise for them. Consequently it
was resolved to commend it to their adoption by a
special effort Mr. Burritt therefore, in visiting all
the principal towns in England, Scotiand, and Ire
land, for the purpose of addressing meetings in be
half of Ocean Penny Postage, generally met, in the
afternoon of the same day, a company of ladies of all
denominations, at a private house, and explained to
them the Olive Leaf Mission, and how easily and
quietly they might operate through it upon the
public mind in foreign countries. In almost every
case, after such an explanation, the ladies formed
themselves into an association, which was called
an " Olive Leaf Society," which met once a month,
corresponded with similar societies, and raised a cer
tain amount to pay for the insertion of the Olive
Leaves in continental journals. In the course of
two years, over one hundred of these ladies' societies

IDS

ELIHU BURRITT.

were organized, as the result of these interviews and
explanations, and they su'stained the whole expense
of the mission, which was about two thousand dollars
a year. The Olive Leaves were translated into
seven different languages, and published monthly,
in more than forty different journals, from Copenha
gen to Vienna, and from Madrid to Stockholm.
'Thus several millions of minds in all those countries
were kept continuously under the dropping of ideas,
facts, and doctrines which fell upon them as quietly
as the dews of heaven. And while immediate re
sults were not to be expected, there can be no doubt
that the influence of these efforts will prove highly
salutary.

CHAPTER XL
PEACE CONGRESS IN LONDON, 1851.
Delegations; Opening Session; Organization; PRESinENT
Brewster's Address; Letters from Thos. Carlyle and
Count Durnelli; Rev. J. Angell James; R. Cobden";!
Wm. Ewart ; Henry Vincent; J. Burnett; Victor Hugo;'
Henry Vincent and Band of French Artizans, and Speech
BY ONE OF Them; Chas. Gilpin; Rev. Dr. Massie; Mr.
Burritt's Speech; Closing Exercises; Soiree.
The fourth of a series of Peace Congresses was held
in Exeter Hall, London, in August, 185 1.* For
many weeks previous to this, Mr. Burritt and Rev.
Henry Richard had labored with great energy and
zeal to awaken an interest that would secure a large
attendance of delegates. The result of these efforts
was highly gratifying. Belgium, England, France,
Germany, America, Spain, Holland, Italy, S.weden,
and Norway were represented by delegates of the
highest respectability. " So far as the British part of
the delegation was concerned, it may safely be said
that there had never before assembled in London so
large an amount of the highest and noblest elements
of English society, its intelligence, its moral and re-l
* There was so much of interest in this Congress that it has been
thought best to give a more particular account of its doings than has
been given of the others. It is believed that the perusal will prove
both interesting and profitable, especially the opening address of Sir
David Brewster and the speech of Mr. Burritt. It is also important
as indicating the effective preparatory work of Messrs. Burritt and
Richard. ,
ID (109)

i

IIO

ELIHU BURRITT.

ligious worth, and of that resolute fixedness of pur
pose, which has enabled the same classes as were
represented in this occasion to achieve so many
previous triumphs in the cause of liberty, philan
thropy, and religion.
More than a thousand men from every district of
the United Kingdom, representing all the large
towns and cities of the Empire, selected, for the
most part, on account of the honorable distinction
they had locally acquired among their fellow citizens,
including in the number official delegates from im
portant municipal and religious bodies, the chief
magistrates of many towns, more than 200 clergy
men of various denominations, appointed by their
respective congregations, eminent professors in col
legiate institutions, and all classes of professional
men." There was surely a noble array of great and
good men, sufficient for ever to remove the impres
sion advanced by some, that the interest which had
brought this vast assemblage together was both un
important and evanescent Mr. Burritt writes in
his journal of the opening session as follows :
London, July 22, 185 1. This is the first of the three
days of 185 1, in the Calendar of Peace. How crowded
with emotion and vivid experience 1 How difficult to
realize that we have come to the fourth of these great
demonstrations ! The day was fair, and when I reached
Exeter Hall, at 10 o'clock, crowds of delegates and vis
itors were congregated near the doors, which were still
closed. Friends from every part of the country were
there in the sunshine of pleasure and anticipation.
When, at length, the doors were opened, and for a full

*

ORGANIZATION.

Ill

hour after, there was a great rush into the committee
room to secure tickets, both for delegates and visitors.
After assisting in supplying the American delegates with
cards of membership, I ascended to the room in which
the Bureau was assembled. Sir David Brewster, our
Chairman, was there, and several other distinguished
men whom I met for the first time, and by whom I was
most cordially greeted. At 1 1 o'clock we went upon the
platform, amidst deafening cheers from those in the hall.
The scene that opened to our view was almost sublime.
The large room was completely filled with a grand audi
ence. The array of talent, philanthropy, experience, and
position presented on the platform was exceedingly im
pressive. The great assembly was called to order by the Rev.
Henty Richard, who submitted the following list of offi
cers, which was received and ratified by the audience
with great eclat :
Sir David Brewster, President ; R. Cobden, M. P., and
Chas. Hindley, M. P., of England ; L. D. Comenio, and
Horace Say of France ; M. Visschers of Belgium j Prof.
Rau of Germany ; Judge Niles and Hon. E. Jackson of
America, Vice-Presidents ; and nine Secretaries, among
whom were Elihu Burritt and Rev. Dr. Beckwith, of
America. After the presentation of the names of delegates from
the different countries, and when all was ready for the
business of the Congress, it was proposed to spend a
minute or two in devotional silence, to invoke the bless
ing of God on the proceedings. At this the vast assem
bly almost ceased to breathe. The deep sflence of three
thousand persons was so profound as to seem almost
audible. Nothing could have surpassed it in impressive
ness. This silence lasted for several minutes, after

112

ELIHU BURRITT.

which the venerable President arose and made the follow
ing most elegant and beautiful inaugural address : *
" I should have shrunk from occupying the chair in
which your kindness has placed me, were I required to
address to you any formal and lengthened argument in
favor of the grand object which the Congress of Peace
has been organized to accomplish. I shall consider this
part of my duty discharged by a brief reference to the
nature and the justice of the cause which we are this
day met to plead. The principle for which we claim
your sympathy and ask your support is, that war under
taken to settle differences between nations is a relic of a
barbarous age, equally condemned by religion, by reason,
and by justice. The question ' What is war ? ' has been
more frequently asked than answered ; and I hope there
may be in this assembly some eloquent individual who
has seen it in its realities, and who is willing to tell us
what he, has seen. Most of you, like myself, know it
only m poetry and romance. We have wept over the
epics and the ballads which celebrate the tragedies of
wan We have followed the warrior in his career of glory
without tracing the line of blood along which he has
marched. We have worshiped the demigod in the Tem
ple of Fame in ignorance of the cruelties and crimes by
which he climbed its steep. It is only from the soldier
himself, and in the language of the eye that has seen its
agonies, and ofthe ear that has heard its shrieks, that
we can obtain a correct idea of the miseries of war.
Though far from our happy shores, many of us may have
*The Congress was exceedingly fortunate in the selection of its
presiding officer, and his address is given in full from the London
mrahloj Peace, Aug. 1851, as affording a clear exposition of the
great object of the gathering, and also of the spirit and ability of the
President. No candid person can read it without being deeply im
pressed with the great importance of its views and principles

MR. BREWSTER S ADDRESS.

"3

4

^

seen it in its ravages and in its results, in the green
mound which marks the recent batde-field, in the shat
tered forest, in the razed and desolate village, and, per
chance, in the widows and the orphans which it made !
And yet this is but the memoty of war — the faint shadow
of its dread realities — the reflection but of its blood, and
the echoes but of its thunders.
" I shudder when imagination carries me to the san
guinary field, to the death-struggles between men who
are husbands and fathers, to the horrors of the siege and
the sack, to the deeds of rapine and violence and murder,
in which neither age nor sex is spared. In acts like these
the soldier is converted into a fiend, and his humanity
even disappears under the ferocious mask of the demon
or the brute. To men who reason, and who feel while
they reason, nothing in the history of their species ap
pears more inexplicable than that war, the child of bar
barism, should exist in an age enlightened and civilized,
when the arts of peace have attained the highest perfec
tion, and when science has brought into personal com
munion nations the most distant and races the most
unfriendly. But it is more inexplicable still that war
should exist where Christianity has for nearly 2000 years
been shedding its gentle light and that it should be
defended by arguments drawn from the scriptures them
selves. " When the pillar oi flre conducted the Israelites to
their promised home, their Divine Leader no more justi
fied war than he justified murder by giving skill to the
artist who forges the stiletto, or nerve to the arm that
wields it. If the sure word of prophecy has told us that
the time must come when men shall learn the art of war
no more, it is doubtless our duty, and it shall be our work,
to hasten its fulfilment, and upon the anvil of Christian
10*

114

ELIHU BURRITT.

truth, and with the brawny arm of indignant reason, to
beat the sword into the ploughshare, and the spear into
the pruning hook. I am ashamed in a Christian com
munity to defend on Christian principles the cause of
universal peace. He who proclaimed peace on earth and
good-will to man, who commands us to love our enemies,
and to do good to them who despitefully use us and per
secute us ; He who counsels us to hold up the left cheek
when the right is smitten; will never acknowledge as
disciples, or admit into His immortal family, the sovereign
or the minister who shall send the fiery cross over tranquil
Europe, and summon the bloodhounds of war to settle
the disputes and gratify the animosities of nations.
" I see in the list of our members the venerable name
of the Archbishop of Paris, who, but for ill health, would
have presided over the Congress in 1849. I trust there
are many bishops of our National Church who, like their
Catholic brother, are intolerant of war, and who are ready
to give their sanction and support to the cause of peace-
I have seen a bishop, and some of you may have person
ally known him, who characterized war by a sentiment
which might well be inscribed upon our banner — a senti
ment powerful from its arithmetical logic, and more pow
erful still from its brevity and truth, — ' One murder makes a
villain, millions a hero.' Had Bishop Porteus been alive,
he, doubtless, would have presided in his own diocese
over a congress of peace. When revelation is discred
ited, or its decision questioned, reason is summoned as
the arbiter, and reason has been appealed to by the friends
of war. To its deliberate verdict we shall cheerfully
yield. If reason is not for us, revelation is against us.
" War is, by its friends, deemed a condition of man in
his state of trial. It has, they allege, been part of the
divine government for six thousand years, and it will,

MR. BREWSTER'S ADDRESS.

115

f

,^

therefore, continue till that government has ceased. It
is, consequently, as they argue, wholly Utopian to attempt
to subvert what is a law of Providence, and what seems
part and parcel of our fallen nature. If the combative-
ness of man, as evinced in his histoty, is thus a necessary
condition of his humanity, and is for ever to have its issue
in war, his superstition, his credulity, his ignorance, his
lust for power, must also be perpetuated in the institu
tions to which they have given birth. Where, then, are
the orgies, the saturnalia of ancient times, the gods who
were invoked, and the temples where they were wor
shiped ? Like war, they were the condition of an infant
race, and have disappeared in the blaze of advancing
civilization. " The game of credulity, the condidon of eariy science,
and" the sphere of the magician, the conjurer, and the
alchemist has, like that of superstition, been played, and
the truths which once administered to imposture have
become the sources of wealth and the means of happi
ness. The game of ignorance, also, has been played,
and the schoolmaster has buckled on his armor to replace
it with knowledge and virtue. The game of slavery, too,
has nearly been played — that monstrous condition of
humanity which statesmen, still living, hold to be insepar
able from social life, and which men, still called Chris
tians, defend from Scripture. The game of duelling —
the game of personal war, in which false honor and
morbid feeling make their appeal to arms, and which was
not only defended but practiced by Christians — has like
wise been played ; and even the soldier, who was sup
posed to have a prescriptive title to its use, has willingly
surrendered his right of homicide and manslaughter.
The game of revolution and of despotism which is now
playing before our eyes will, in its turn, be played, and
with it the game of war will terminate.

ii6

ELIHU BURRITT.

" Is it Utopian, then, to attempt to put an end to war ?
If personal and local feuds have been made amenable to
law — ff the border wars of once hostile kingdoms have
been abolished by their union— if nations have success
fully combined to maintain the balance of European
power by their armies— if, in our own day, an alliance
called holy has been organized to put down revolution in
individual states, and maintain the principle of order —
why may not the same great powers again combine to
enforce peace as well as order, and to chastise the first
audacious nation that ventures to disturb the tranquility
of Europe ? The principle of this Congress, to settle
national disputes by arbitration, has, to a certain extent,
been adopted by existing powers, both monarchical and
republican ; and it is surely neither chimerical nor offi
cious to make such a system universal among the very
nations that have themselves partially adopted it If
these views have reason and justice on their side, their
final triumph cannot be distant
" The cause of peace has made, and is making, rapid
progress. The most distinguished men of all nations
are lending it their aid. The illustrious Humboldt the
chief of the republic of letters, whom I am proud to call
my friend, has addressed to the Congress of Frankfort a
letter of sympathy and adhesion. He tells us that our
institution is a step in the life of nations, and that under
the protection of a superior power it will at length find
its consummation. He recalls to us the noble expression
of a statesman long departed, 'that the idea of humanity
is becoming more and more prominent and is evetywhere
proclaiming its animating power.' Other glorious names
sanction our cause. Several French statesmen, and many
of the most distinguished members of the Institute, have
joined our alliance. The Catholic and the Protestant

MR. BREWSTER S ADDRESS.

117

clergy of Paris are animated in the sacred cause, and the
most illustrious of its poets have brought to us the willing
tribute of their genius. Since I entered this assembly I
have received from France an olive branch, the symbol of
peace, with a request that I should wear it on this occa
sion. It has lost, unfortunately, its perishable verdure —
an indication, I trust of its perennial existence. The
philosophers and divines of Germany, too, have given us
their sympathy and support ; and, iri America, evety man
that thinks is a friend of universal peace.
" In pleading for a cause in which evety rank of citizens
has a greater or less interest, I would fain bespeak the
support of a class who have the deepest stake in the
prosperity of the country, and in the permanence of its
institutions. The holders of the nation's wealth, whether
it is invested in trade or in land, have a peculiar interest
in the question of peace. Upon them war makes its first
and its heaviest demand ; and upon them, too, war, in its
reverses, makes its first appropriating inroad. In our
insular stronghold, we have ever felt secure from foreign
aggression : but when alarmists are raising the cty of
insecurity on our shores, they proclaim the insecurity of
property by their vety arrangements to defend it. In the
reign of peace, wealth will flow into new channels, and
science will guide the plough in its, fructifying path ; and,
having nothing to fear from foreign invasion, or internal
discontent we shall sit under our vine and our fig-tree, to
use the gifts and enjoy the life which Providence has
given — to discharge the duties which these blessings
impose, and prepare for that higher life to which duty
discharged is the safest passport. But it is not merely to
property that our principles will bring security and amel
ioration. With war will cease its expenditure. National
prosperity will follow national security. The arts of

ii8

ELIHU BURRITT.

peace wfll flourish as the arts of war decay. The talent
and skill which have been squandered on the works and
on the instruments of destruction will be directed into
nobler channels. Science and the arts, in thus acquiring
new intellectual strength, will make new conquests over
matter, and give new powers to mind.
" The minister who now refuses to science its inalien
able rights, and grudges even the crumbs which fall from
his niggardly board, 'will then open the nation's purse to
advance the nation's gloty ; and the decorations which
now justly shine on the breast .of the warrior, and those
which hide themselves for shame under the drapery of
the party adherent, will fall to the lot of the sage who
enlightens, and of the patriot who serves his country.
Science will no longer bend a suppliant at the foot of
power, and the intriguer will no longer dare to approach
it Education, too, wfll then dispense its blessings
' through a wider range, and religion, within its own hal
lowed sphere, will pursue its labors of love and truth, in
imitation of its blessed Master. If we have not yet
reached this epoch of peace and happiness, we are doubt
less rapidly nearing it ; and among the surest harbingers
of its approach is the exhibition of the world's industry,
and the reunion of the world's genius, which now adorn
and honor our metropohs. As one of its daily visitors
since it was opened by our beloved Queen, I may be per
mitted to call your especial attention to it as the first
Temple of Peace that modern hands have reared. You
have, doubtless, all seen its magnificent exterior and its
internal splendor — its lofty transept raising its glittering
roofs to the skies — its lengthening nave vanishing in dis
tance and misty perspective — its countless avenues and
aisles — its iron corridors — its crystal labyrinths. On the
outline of its walls, and from its balconies within, wave

MR. BREWSTERS ADDRESS.

119

the banners of nations — those bloody symbols of war
under which our fathers, and even our brothers, have
fought and bled. They are now the symbols of peace.
Woven and reared by the hands of industty, they hang in
unruffled unity, untorn by violence, and unstained with
blood, the emblems, indeed, of strife, but of that noble
strife in which nations shall contend for victory in the
fields of science, in the schemes of philanthropy, and in
the arts of life. The trophies of such conquests and the
triumphs of such arts are displayed within. Who can
describe them without ' thoughts that breathe, and words
that burn ? ' There are the materials gathered from the
surface, or torn from the bowels of our planet, the pro
ducts of primeval creation, or annual growth, the gift of
God to man, — the elements of civilization from which his
genius is to elaborate those combinations of science and
of art which administer to the comforts of life and the
grandeur of nations. There are the instruments to grasp •
with the eye the inflnitely great, and the infinitely small,
to measure space and time — to charm, to cure, and to
kill. There are the mechanisms which have made man a
tyrant over matter, cutting, and twisting, and tearing, and
moulding its hardest as well as its tenderest elements,
which break and pulverize the crust of the earth ; which
lift up its heaviest and most solid strata ; which span its
rivers and its valleys ; which light up our rugged shores ;
which transport the riches of her commerce across the
deep; and which hurry us on wings of iron, beating the
eagle in its flight and mimicing the lightning in its
speed. Yonder are the fabrics which clothe the peasant
and the prince, which deck the cottage and glitter in the
palace — the jewels which hang on the neck of beauty,
and which play a part in the pomp of kings — the cup of
clay which tlie husbandman dips into the ctystal well,

[20

ELIHU BURRITT.

ind the goblet of silver and of gold from which the more
iavored of our race quaff the nectar of the gods.
And, finally, as if to chide the vanity of the riches that
perish, and chasten the extravagance that lives but for
the present we see commingled with the bauble of wealth
and luxury, with what the moth and the rust corrupt,
those divine models which record in marble or in bronze
the deeds of heroism that time has spared, the glorious
names which the past has transmitted to the future, the
forms divine of the sage that* has instructed, and the
patriot that has saved his country. Amid these proud
efforts of living genius, these brilliant fabrics, these won
drous mechanisms, we meet the sage, and the artist of
every clime and of every faith, studying the productions
of each other's countty, admiring each other's genius,
and learning the lessons of love and charity which a
community of race and of destiny cannot fafl to teach.
The grand truth, indeed, which this lesson involves, is
recorded in bronze on the prize medal by which the genius
of the exhibitors is to be rewarded. Round the head
of Prince Albert to whose talent and moral courage we
owe the Exposition of 1851, and addressed to us in his
name, is the noble sentiment " What space has separated
I have united in harmonious peace." This is to be our
motto, and to realize it is to be our work. It will, indeed,
be the noblest result of the Prince's labors, if they shall
effect among nations what they have already done among
individuals, the removal of jealousies that are temporary,
and the establishment of friendships that are enduring.
The annual meetings of the scientific men of all nations
have already taught us that personal communication and
the interchange of social kindness revive our better feel
ings, and soften the asperities of rival and conflicting
interests. Nations are composed of individuals, and that

MR. BREWSTER S ADDRESS.

121

kindness and humanity which adorn the single heart
cannot be real if they disappear in the united sentiment
of nations. We cannot readily believe that nations which
have embraced each other in social intercourse, and in
the interchanges of professional knowledge, will recognize
any other object of rivalry and ambition than a superi
ority in the arts of peace. It is not likely that men who
have admired each other's genius, and have united in
giving a just judgment on mere inventions, wfll ever
again concur in referring questions of national honor to
the arbitrament of the sword. If in the material works
the most repulsive elements may be permanently com
pressed within their sphere of mutual attraction ; if, in
the world of instinct, natures the most ferocious may be
softened and even tamed when driven into a common
retreat by their deadliest foe — may we not expect in the
world of reason and of faith, that men severed by na
tional and personal enmities — ^who have been toiling
under the same impulse and acting for the same end —
who are standing in the porch of the same hall of judg
ment and panting for the same eternal home — may we
not expect that such men will never again consent to
brandish the deadly cutlass or throw the hostile spear ?
May we not regard it as certain that they will concur
with us in exerting themselves to the utmost in effecting
the entire abolition of war ?

As Mr. Brewster closed his address he was most
heartily and enthusiastically cheered by the immense
audience. From numerous letters received from eminent
persons, who were not able to be present at the
meeting of the Congress, the two following are par
ticularly noteworthy, both for their sentiments and
II

122

ELIHU BURRITT.

their distinguished authorship. The first is from
Thomas Carlyle, and the second from the President
of the Chamber of Deputies, of Turin. They were
addressed to Rev. Henry Richard, Chairman of
the Committee of Arrangements :
Chelsea, i8th July, 185 1.
Sir, — I fear I shall not be able to attend any of your
meetings ; but certainly I can at once avow, if, indeed,
such an avowal on the part of any sound-minded man be
not a superfluous one, that I altogether approve your
object, heartily wish it entire success, and even hold my
self bound to do, by all opportunities that are open to
me, whatever I can towards forwarding the same. How
otherwise ? " If it be possible, as much as in you lies,
study to live at peace with all men ; " this, sure enough,
is the perpetual law for evety man, both in his individual
and his social capacity ; nor in any capacity or character
whatsoever is he permitted to neglect this law, but must
follow it and do what he can to see it followed. Clearly,
beyond question, whatsoever be our theories about human
nature, and its capabilities and outcomes, the less war
and cutting of throats we have among us, it will be the
better for us all ! One rejoices much to see that immeas
urable tendencies of this time are already pointing towards
the result you aim at ; that to all appearance, as men no
longer wear swords in the streets, so neither, by and by,
wfll nations; that among nations, too, the sanguinary
ultima ratio will, as it has done among individuals, become
rarer and rarer; and the tragedy of fighting, ff it can
never altogether disappear, will reduce itself more and
more strictly to a minimum in our affairs. Towards this
result, as I said, all men are at all times bound to co
operate ; and, indeed, consciously or unconsciously, evety

CARLYLE S LETTER.

123

well-behaved person in this world may be said to be daily
and hourly co-operating towards it — especially in these
times of banking, railwaying, printing, and penny-posting j
when evety man's traflickings and laborings, and what
ever industty he honestly and not dishonestly follows, do
all vety directly tend, whether he knows it or not, towards
this good object among others.
I will say farther, what appears vety evident to me,
that if any body of citizens, from one, or especially from
various countries, see good to meet together, and articu
late, reiterate these or the like considerations, and strive
to make them known and famfliar, — the world in general,
so soon as it can sum up the account, may rather hold
itself indebted to them for so doing. They are in the
happy case of giving some little furtherance to their
cause by such meetings, and, what is somewhat peculiar,
of not retarding it thereby on any side at all. If they
be accused of doing little good, they can answer confi
dently that the little good they do is quite unalloyed, that
they do no evil whatever. The evil of their enterprise, if
evil there be, is to themselves only j the good of it goes
wholly to the world's account without any admixture of
evil : for which unalloyed benefit however small it be,
the world surely ought, as I now do, to thank them rather
than otherwise.
One big battle saved to Europe will cover the expense
of many meetings. How many meetings would one ex
pedition to Russia cover the expense of ! Truly I wish
you all the speed possible ; well convinced that you will
not too much extinguish the wrath that dwells, as a natural
element in all Adam's posterity ; and I beg to subscribe
myself, Sir, yours very sincerly,
T. Carlyle.

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ELIHU BURRITT.

Honored Sir, — I am infinitely obliged to the mem
bers of the Committee of the Congress of Universal
Peace, for the honor which they have done me in inviting
me to be present at the great international assembly
which is to be held on the 22d and two following days of
this month. My unbounded admiration for the aims of
the Society, and the perfect accordance of my opinions
with the principles proclaimed by the preceding Con
gresses, and, finally, the pleasure of finding myself united
with so many celebrated and distinguished persons, would
have made me desire to accept your kind invitation, but
the prolonged session of the Parliament of this kingdom
does not leave me free ; and the position which I occupy,
as President of the Chamber of Deputies, renders it
difficult for me so to dispose of my time as to procure
myself the honor and pleasure of being bodily present
at this Congress, where, nevertheless, I shall be with my
whole heart
Receive my salutations and my sincere regrets that I
cannot accede to your kind proposition.
Count Pierre Dionysie Dumelli,
President of the Chamber of Deputies at Turin.
Turin, July i, 185 1.
Most of the remaining exercises of the Congress
are briefly referred to in Mr. Burritt's private journal
as follows :
The Rev. John Angefl James arose to move the first reso
lution, urging the duty of all ministers of the Gospel and
teachers of youth to inculcate the principles of peace. He
seemed to be inspired with the spirit of the occasion, and
made a very impressive speSch. He particularly addressed
his brethren of the ministry, and put it to them if they
would not pledge themselves to bring the subject to the

RICHARD COBDEN.

125

jC \f

attention of their respective flocks. Several said "yes"
aloud, — when Dr. James exclaimed, "I would almost ven
ture to ask you to arise and pledge yourselves to do this
in the presence of this vast assembly." Immediately
about one hundred arose to their feet. The mighty con
gregation was deeply affected by this incident which was
greeted with acclamations of sympathy. Many sedate
men were affected to tears, and hundreds must remember
that impressive incident as long as they live.
Dr. James was followed by several speakers, who were
listened to with more or less of interest. The Rev. John
Burnett closed the exercises of the afternoon with an ad
mirable speech, which abounded in rich wit and put the
large audience into the best humor. At 4 o'clock the
Congress adjourned, evidently greatly pleased with the
proceedings of- the first session. The spectacle was a
magnificent one, presenting an aspect of moral grandeur
which I never saw surpassed in any public meeting.
July 23, 185 1. Though the rain was falling in torrents,
an immense audience assembled on this second day of
the Congress. After the reading of a few letters, Richard
Cobden arose to speak. He was received with a tempest
of cheers, most of the assembly rising to their feet. He
made a speech that held the audience spell-bound for
nearly an hour. His address was a Cobden of the first
force of logic, and seemed to make a profound impression.
He was followed by Wm. Ewart M.P., in a happy speech,
during which he stated that he appeared as a delegate to
the Congress from the people of Liverpool, and had been
commissioned to present an address from them in which
they commended, as a method and medium of uniting na
tions in the bonds of peace, an Ocean Penny Postage. I
was gratefully surprised at this, especially as it was re
ceived with acclamations of applause which lasted for some
II*

126

ELIHU BURRITT.

time. He then adverted to my labors in a way that flushed
my face, and the feeling that a thousand eyes were looking
at^me was very embarrassing, especially as I happened to
be seated in a conspicuous place on the platform.
Mr. Ewart was followed by Henry Vincent, who was
enthusiastically greeted. He made one of his telling
speeches, which stirred up the assembly to a high state of
pleasurable excitement. After one or two brief speeches,
Joseph Gamier came forward and delivered a very able
address, full of striking points and strong common sense.
Richard Cobden followed in strong but just terms of com
mendation, adverted to the devoted labors of Mr. Gamier
in the peace movement and gave an excellent abstract of
his argument, which was received with great interest.
A resolution relating to the aggressions of civilized na
tions upon barbarous tribes was introduced, and was dis
cussed with much ability by Rev. John Burnett of England,
Rev. F. Crowe of Guatemala, Central America, and Henry
Garnett. Emil de Girardin made a brief speech, and closed
by moving that, " Nations that made war upon weak
tribes should be called strong but not civilized." His
remarks were pointed and forcible, and were translated by
Richard Cobden, who seconded the motion, and with its
passage the session closed.
July 24, 1851. This was the last day of the Congress,
and of unusual interest to me, as I was to take part in the
exercises. The rain still continued, and the walking was
vety uncomfortable, but the great hall was again filled,
and the interest seemed to be at flood tide. After the
opening of the sessions, and the reading of a letter from
Victor Hugo, a most interesting incident occurred to grace
the occasion. Henry Vincent entered the hall at the head
of fifteen French working men, representing as many dif
ferent trades, who had been sent to London to visit the

FRENCH ARTISANS.

127

m-t

great Exhibition. Their entrance was greeted with enthu
siastic acclamations of welcome, which continued several
minutes, most of the assembly rising to their feet. After
a brief introduction, one of the French artisans came
forward to address the Congress on behalf of his breth
ren. He received the warmest welcome, and read a
short but excellent speech, full of a noble spirit, which
was interpreted by J. S. Buckingham, a member of the
Congress. It was as follows :
"Citizens of the world 1 you give at this moment agreat
lesson. Differing in character, in manners, in language,
you are united by one common thought, — universal peace.
Honor, threefold honor, to you ! Receive then the sin
cere thanks of the workingmen of Paris, sent here to
study the Universal Exhibition. They are happy and
proud to be admitted within these walls. Happy, for the
thought that animates them is the same as your own.
Proud, for you have thus proved your sympathy for them.
Yes ; we more than all others ought to thank you for your
endeavors to annihflate that scourge which has desolated
the universe for so many ages. For it is upon us, manual
laborers, that war weighs with its heaviest burden. War I
— it crashes our existence. From producers,' which we
are or ought to be, it transforms us into instmments of
destraction. Our hands, destined to ply the shuttle or
hold the plough, are by it covered with blood, and em
ployed for the destruction of men whose existence is useful.
God has created us for the giving of life j but war often
employs us to inflict death. War ! — it has frequently no
other end than to satisfy the ambitions and interests of
which we are always the victims. War ! — It perpetuates
our ignorance, — it annihilates our faculties,— it makes of us
machines when we ought to be intelligent producers. It
removes the cultivator of the soil — that soil which is our

128

, ELIHU BURRITT.

mother-nurse — and it carries away the mechanic from his
workshop. Every soldier who falls on the field of battle
is one producer the less on the field of industty. War 1—
Under the pretext of gloty-, it takes us, full of marrow,
and force, and vigor, and often leaves us feeble and mu-
tflated. War I- It is not only violent, terrible ; it takes
all forms, and presents to us mechanical laborers its most
sad, its most poignant aspect iu the shape of misery.
" Citizens of the world ! — In uniting your efforts against
this scourge of the great government, you destroy the
causes of pauperism which, like a consuming insect in
beautiful fmit, takes away from our civilization a part of
its power, and casts a shadow over the picture of our in
dustrial splendor. So long as one portion of humanity
suffers, all others must feel the effects ; for those who suf
fer will protest and struggle, and that peace which we long
for cannot be realized.
" Citizens ofthe world ! — Thanks to you, — hundred times
thanks to you, for your benevolent welcome. The dele
gates of the working men of Paris wish to testify to you
their gratitude. The people begin already to stretch out
their hands fraternally to each other ; and that which
struck us most in entering this great city, was that there
existed no barriers. Nationalities are disappearing ; and
in a few years, by your efforts, they will exist only in name.
Their rivalry can now only be excited by those produc
tions of their industry which they shall create and distrib
ute among all men, by one and the same country, until the
time when the word and idea ' nation ' shall be effaced
from our language and manners. The greatest nation will
be that which counts the most happy laborers and the few
est soldiers.
" Citizens of the world ! — We thank you for your great
and glorious initiative ; and we say with you, union, sin-

WAR LOANS.

129

¦mt^.

cere and durable, among the peoples, by the annihilation
of war and pauperism."
Dr. Creizenach next arose, and was recognized and
greeted heartily, as the German Secretaty of the Frank
fort Congress, who rendered so much service to the cause
on that occasion. He spoke effectually and impressively,
in English, and was listened to with fixed attention through-
' out. He gave many interesting items of information in
reference to the progress of the cause in Germany.
A resolution against war loans was then brought for
ward, and a feeling and eloquent speech on the subject
was made by Charles Gilpin. The resolution was sec
onded by Edward Miall, who was received by long and loud
bursts of applause. He spoke with great clearness and
force, and made a deep impression on the Congress.
Then Samuel Gurney arose, in the mfld dignity of his gray
hairs, and great experience. During his speech he said
that he had at first misapprehended the spirit, objects, and
proceedings of the Peace Congress, but they met his cor
dial approval now that he understood them. This was
saying a good deal for him, as he had stood somewhat
aloof from the movement.
The next resolution was one commending to the
friends of peace, under all constitutional governments,
not to vote for representatives who would not engage to
support the peace policy. Rev. Dr. Massie, and one or
two others, made brief speeches, when the resolution
was put and carried.
Mr. Richard read the next or Sth resolution, which
was as follows : " That this Congress recommends all
the friends of Peace to prepare public opinion, in their
respective countries, with the view of the formation of an
authoritative International Law."

I30

ELIHU BURRITT,

Mr. Burritt being called to support this resolution
spoke as follows :
Time and Providence, in all the vicissitudes and events
which mark the experience of individuals, or measure the
progress of nations,, bring but one now to man, or to any
human enterprise. Evety great event or undertaking that
has blessed the world with its beneficence has had its own
peculiar now ; its own providential preparation of the pop
ular mind for its reception and fruition ; its own contem
poraneous coincidence of auspicious circumstances, co-
working to facilitate its realization. And ff the present
year is not the now which God has given us for the con
summation of the hopes we entertain and the measures
we propose, that now wfll come ; " for the mouth of the
Lord of Hosts hath spoken it." It wUl come ; but not
by observation. It will come ; but the star of its ad
vent will be recognized only by a few shepherds longing
and looking, with skyward eye, for its appearing. It will
come ; but the faith of the few wfll only discern and hail
its approach, while the million will persist in their incre
dulity, and ask in derision, " Where is the promise of its
coming ? " What was trae in regard to the great event of
this year, will be true in reference to the more august re
ality towards which we look and labor.
Who discerned the fact that this year was the noiv of the
Great Exhibition ? Was it the spontaneous and universal
conviction of the public mind that the set time had come
for this magnificent demonstration in the Ctystal Palace ?
No ; its advent was comprehended by the faith of the few.
Even to them it did not come by observation. They did
not walk by sight or certainty. They had no pathometer
wherewith to test the sentiment of the world towards their
proposition. It was not in their power to feel the pulse

MR. BURRITT'S ADDRESS.

131

of the divided population of the earth, to ascertain whether
their multitudinous heart beat in sympathy with the idea
of this grand gathering of the nations. And without this
spontaneous sympathy of the people of different lands and
languages, without the animated, consentaneous coopera
tion of their best will, genius, and activity, no human leg
islation could have produced the event which now fills the
mind of the world with delight and admiration. '
How, then, did the princely author of this monarch-
thought of the age, and his dauntless coadjutators in the
conception, ascertain that its now had come ? that the
mind of the world was ripe and ready for its realization ?
that the predilections of peoples, and the pathway of Prov
idence, were in happy conjunction for this brilliant con
summation ? The circumstances under which they put
out their great thought are full of instruction and en
couragement to our faith. Ten years ago, there were
no interests in the commonwealth of nations so mutu
ally antagonistic, so jealous of competition, so adverse
to reconciliation, so ambitious of precedence, or deter
mined to rise on the ruins of another, as the mechanical
and agricultural industries of the different populations
in Christendom. Years of elaborate legislation had ar
rayed these interests against each other in lynx-eyed and
tireless hostility.
The artisans of one countty were taught to regard theii
brethren of the spindle, hammer, and spade of another as
their natural enemies in the battle of life and labor. They
were taught to conceal their, skill ; to lock away their
mechanical genius in close, dark laboratories, lest it should
be purloined by foreigners. "No admittance here except on
business" was written, in barking, bull-dog capitals, over
their factories and workshops. Abundant admittance to
buy, but none to learn, was the meaning of this threaten-

132

ELIHU BURRITT.

ing monition. Even to the first day of 185 1, the jealous
tariffs of different countries seemed "like lime-twigs set
to catch " and cripple the thought of bringing the arts and
sciences of all nations into one Central Palace of Peace
and Concord. In addition to this circumstance, a deluge
of angry agitation was rolling over the Continent of
Europe. During the last months of 1850, thousands and tens o£
thousands of the well-skflled artisans of Prussia, Austria,
and other German States had laid down the peaceful im
plements of theirhandicraft and were training their fingers
to the bloody trade and weapons of war. And was this
the time ? was this the juncture of favoring opportunities
for the Great Exhibition of the Arts and Industries of all
nations ? So its originators believed. Against the mind
of the mUlion, they believed it steadfastly. To their faith,
the now had come for the complete realization of the mag
nificent conception. Unaided by legislation, with no gov
ernmental power or authority to lean upon, they sent out
their idea, dovelike, among the divided populations of the
earth. It dropped into the hearts of peoples like a still
small voice of Divine inspiration. It permeated the minds
of the masses, and touched their sympathies to the finest
issues. It worked upward into the highest ranks of human
society, and downward into the lowest conditions ; and
pervaded and united all with the common sentiment that
the great day of Universal Labor had come, when it was
to be crowned with glory and honor, and the homage of
potentates and peoples.
Away upon the sea, to distant islands and continents,
flew the summons of that thought ; and the sons of toil of
every handicraft and clime, and color, opened their hearts
to its message ; and it thrilled their fingers with such in
genious activities as never before wrought in the mechan-

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MR. BURRITT S ADDRESS.

133

ical creations of human skill. The great day of labor had
come. The queen of all the earthly conditions of human
ity was to be brought to her throne, with kings and queens
as her train-bearers, with shoutings of grace and gloty to
her scepter from the many-tongued myriads of her sub
jects. Labor, patient, peaceful labor, that, from the closed
gates of Paradise, went forth weeping into the wilderness
of life, and tracked it with the red pathway of her bleed
ing feet ; labor, that had made bricks without straw in
Egypt, and lain pale and hungry, and begged for cmmbs |
on the door-stones of palaces, which her blistered hands
had filled with dainties which the eye and appetite of un
grateful luxury could not enjoy ; labor, that had walked
and worked her way through the barbarisms and feudal
isms of the past, with the fetter-prints of bondage still
fresh and crimson around her limbs ; meek, lowly-minded
labor had come to her immortal now, to the day of her
august coronation. And her lowly men of might, who
bore in their sunburnt foreheads and in their homy hands
the dusky signets of their loyalty, felt that her day was
come. And with a new sentiment of dignity, the pearl-
divers of distant seas, with strong and downward beat
descended to deeper fathoms of the ocean's depths, and
searched its shining bed for '' gems of purer light serene "
than ever shed their luster on regal courts ; the diamond-
diggers of different zones hunted with new ambition for
the costliest stones of the earth's treasury to stud the
coronation jewelty of labor ; and the trappers of frozen
regions, and the fishermen of the poles, the men of the
mines of deeper fathom than the sea ; the diggers and
workers of all the precious and useful metals and minerals
which the earth contains ; the workers of the spindle,
shutde, and needle ; the artisans of hostile countries for
got their nationality in the sentiment of the dignity of
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ELIHU BURRITT,

MR. burritt's ADDRESS.

135

their common condition, and all wrought with the highest
enthusiasm of their genius, to bring the master-pieces of
human art to the crowning of labor.
And the kings and queens of the earth felt that the
first jewels of their crowns owed their luster to labor, and
they brought them forth to shine among the gems of her
coronation, in the great Temple of Peace and Concord.
And the first queen of the world acted as bridesmaid at
the royal robing of labor, and in sight of the congregated
nations she set the tiara of the world's homage on her
brow, and gave her, a glorious bride, to the dignity of uni
versal humanity, as the first-born and fairest of the earthly
offspring of Omnipotence. And who, among the thou
sands that filled, or the exulting millions that surrounded,
the Ctystal Temple on that august occasion, could doubt
that its illustrious now had come, with its world-full of the
finger-prints and finger-guidings of Divine Providence ;
with its favoring sympathies beating fellowship in the
bosom of nations ; with attractions and unprecedented
opportunities for the realization of this magnificent scheme
of peace and human brotherhood ?
But the result of this grand experiment has a bearing
upon our efforts and expectations far beyond the value
and significance of an illustration. The wonderful demon
stration which has c-ongregated the people of the earth in
fraternal fellowship in yonder Ctystal Temple * of Peace
is not a mere collateral event, by which we may prove the
existence and force of a current of public sentiment, run
ning parallel with that which this Congress represents.
Great as are its triumphs, immeasurable as may be its con
sequences, it did not transpire on a line of human progress
which may, in some dim, distant future, converge into the
road which we are pursuing. No ; the lines of the Great

^

* Crystal Palace.

Exhibition, and the annual Peace Congress of Christendom,
have already merged into the same highway of peace and
human brotherhood. It is not our doing. It is the work
of Divine Providence, and it is " marvelous in our eyes."
It is not our saying. Let no one charge us with the am
bitious assumption of this fact. Others have said it for
us ; others of the highest authority, and in the audience
of the listening world.
At the grand inauguration in the Ctystal Palace, on the-
first of May, Prince Albert declared to the assembled thou
sands of different kindreds and climes, and to 'the mfllions
of Christendom who caught responsive the echo of his
words, that "the undertaking had iQritsendih& promotion
of all branches of human industty, and the strengthening
of the bonds of peace and friendship among all nations of
the earth." Peace, permanent and universal ; peace,
with its tendrfls clasping all the sensitive and nourishing
fibers of human industty ; peace, interwoven with the
mutual affections and interests of the peoples of the
earth, is the object of the Congress of Nations, now hold
ing its pacific sessions in the Ctystal Palace. All the
ideas and associations connected with the event merge into
this grand object and result The originators of this
'demonstration, and those who gloty loudest in its triumphs,
claim for it, as its highest honor, this result. Their fervid
orators, in the glow of enthusiastic eloquence, point to the
Great Exhibition, and say, this is the true Peace Congress.
They claim for it the character and object of our annual
Peace Pariiament of the People. They promise to realize
the result for which we labor ; to be first at the goal, and
carry off the prize. They do not say that they are against
us, or competing with us in a parallel race-course, but that
they are far in advance of us, on the same high-road toward
the object of our efforts and aspirations.

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ELIHU BURRITT.

Then, what becomes of the charge that we are going too
fast, and too far, when the originators of the Great Exhibi
tion are almost boasting that they have taken the cause of
peace out of our hands, and are carrying it forward to its
final consummation with railway speed, because that our
expectations and progress are so slow ? The worid, almost
without a dissenting voice, admits that the set time had
come for this event that the preparation of the popular
mind of Christendom was complete for the realization of
this scheme, even beyond the boldest expectations of its
originators. And it had but one single end from the be
ginning, and that was peace. Let us grant it gladly and
gratefully. That is the only end of our annual Peace Con
gress. Then wfll not the sympathies and activities of na
tions, and the. cooperation of Divine Providence, which
have crowned the undertaking with such mighty success,
accrue to the realization of our aim and efforts ? If their
now has come with such a superabundance of happy cir
cumstances, can ours be far off .? We trow not.
The time was now rapidly waning away, and the pensive
shadow of the parting moment was thickening upon us.
I had felt the deepest solicitude in reference to the con
tinuation of the annual Congresses, and was therefore
greatiy rejoiced to find that Joseph Sturge, and others,
were about to bring forward a resolution in favor of
holding another next year. As soon, therefore, as action
had been taken on the last resolution, good Joseph Sturge
came forward and offered the following :
" Resolved, That encouraged by the interest shown in
this and previous Congresses, a Congress of the friends
of Peace should be held next year, at such time and place
as the Bureau may decide."
Edward Smith seconded this in a very hearty manner,
and it was carried with great enthusiasm and unanimity.

m

SOIREE.

137

^

^

This was a great relief to my mind, for I had begun to
fear that the Peace Congress movement might be sus
pended, through the conservatism of the London and
American Peace Societies. A few motions and brief
addresses, appropriate to the closing hour, were made,
after which the venerable President Sir David Brewster,
arose to dissolve the Congress, which he did in a vety
impressive manner. Horace Greeley moved a vote of
thanks to the Chairman, and then came a few rounds of
parting cheers, and the great congregation began to dis
solve, never to meet again in this world. It was truly an
affecting moment full of the deepest interest Thus
commenced and concluded the great .Peace Congress of
1851. It was a most noble demonstration, crowned with
Divine favor to a degree which all must have seen and
felt Soiree.
On the evening following the close of the Con
gress a grand social entertainment was given, con
cerning which the following account is taken from
the Herald of Peace :
The Peace Congress Committee, having a vivid remem
brance of the hospitable kindness with which the English
delegates had been welcomed in Brussels, Paris, and
Frankfort, felt that, in addition to the business sittings of
the Congress, some opportunity should be afforded for
inviting their foreign friends to a social reunion, where a
freer interchange of thought and feeling might be enjoyed
than was possible at Exeter Hall. They determined
therefore to have a soiree at Willis's rooms on Friday
evening. The number present amounted to nearly a thou
sand, including men of nearly all nations, mingling together
in very cordial and delightful harmony. The scene was
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138

ri

ELIHU BURRITT.

.animating and briUiant All the arrangements were
admirable, and reflected the highest credit upon the taste
and tact of the three gentiemen who had undertaken the
whole management of the soiree, viz., the Rev. Joseph
TurnbuU, Mr. James Bell, and Mr. Chamerovzow. A
large number of ladies were present, and what greatly
added to the interest of the evening was the presence of
the French workingmen, who seemed greatly pleased to
find themselves mingling in such friendly and familiar
intercourse with so many of their English neighbors.
About half-past nine a number of the leading friends
appeared on the orchestra gallety, and the company
immediately put themselves in, an attitude of attention.
Presentiy Mr. Cobden came forward, and addressed the
assembly as follows: "Our English friends who have
been instrumental in bringing this company together are
desirous that it should contribute as much as possible to
the enjoyment of the foreigners present and that they
should carry away with them recollections of a pleasant
social evening. But whenever Englishmen come together,
in numbers like this, they have an instinctive notion,
which is shared, I dare say, by our American friends,
that the proceedings cannot go off perfectiy well without
some littie talking in the way of short speeches. But it
must be remembered that the greater number of our
foreign friends do not understand the language in which
I am now addressing you, and that it would be to them a
tedious endurance to have to listen, at any length, to
speeches they don't understand. I would therefore sug
gest that our excellent friend, Mr. Samuel Bowly of
Gloucester, should say a few words to us — and I know
no man who can better compress a good deal into a small
compass — then a French or German friend — and perhaps
the Americans will also send a representative into the

COBDEN S SPEECH.

139

gallety ; and after that there should be no more speaking,
but we should freely circulate among each other, entering
into conversation, and making private and perhaps per^
manent acquaintances, that after we have separated shall
serve to unite us together, and help, as individual friend
ships do, to bind . our respective nations together in ami
cable correspondence. I am sure I express the feelings
of evety English lady and gentieman in this room, when
I say we are vety happy in the opportunity of meeting so
many foreign friends as. are here this evening — and riot
least the body of French workmen. I have shaken hands
with them, and know by the touch that they are real
workingmen; and though we know no distinction of
classes here, there is something that especially commends
these men to our kindness and attention ; it is, that they
represent large bodies of their fellow workmen ; and
thus, for the first time in the annals of the two countries,
we welcome amongst us a deputation from the French
people. They had sent before them, in the works of
elegance, taste, and utility, which abound in the French
department of the Great Exhibition, proofs of their indus
tty, skill, and intellect; and they have confirmed the
opinion we had formed of them by their demeanor
amongst us, and the talent exhibited by their representa
tive in his speech at Exeter Hall. It is a special reason
that we should honor them that as Mr. Burritt eloquently
said yesterday, the Great Exhibition is the coronation of
Labor. I will only repeat the expression of my sincere
wish, that when we separate it will be each to promote,
in his own way, the good cause in which we are embarked,
— to be the apostles of those principles which we believe
are destined in future to unite the different nations which
compose mankind, in the place of those animosities by
which they have hitherto been unhappily divided."

140

ELIHU BURRITT.

fl

Samuel Bowly Esq., expressed his pleasure at this
combination of social entertainment with mutual improve
ment in those great truths which lay at the base of all
true unity among nations. He was glad to see present
so many of the Society of Friends, a people who had
held these great principles religiously for nearly two
hundred years. The more sacredly those principles were
held, the more rapid and certain would be the progress
of this movement, both at home and abroad. Only let
them be consistent in holding these principles— ready to
trust their bodies and chattels to Omnipotent protection
—and the cause of peace and of the gospel would ad
vance together; for he knew that inconsistency, in this
particular, had been one great cause of infidelity, both in
this and other countries. There was a practical difficulty
in the way of many in this matter, though, for his own
part, he felt he ought not to look at practical difficulties
when he had got hold of a great principle. And this
practical difficulty was not met with, as might be supposed,
among the uneducated and vulgar, so much as among
the educated classes. When, coming out of a public-
house, we saw a man pull off his coat to fight we knew not
what to call him ; and if, in a moment of temptation, he
enlisted into the ranks, we knew that the responsibility
rested with those who voted away the money in Parlia
ment to pay those poor men for their services and pre
pare them for the field. It was from those who sit at
their desks, and hire men to kill one another untfl one
party is tired of fighting, and then do what we wished
them to do before fighting— it was from those men the
objection came. They had- no doubt heard of the exhi
bition of the battie of Waterioo. A littie boy was taken
by his parents to see that exhibition, and he asked his
father what they were fighting about. His father could

ANECDOTE.

141

not tell, and referred it to the mother. Neither could
she exactly say; so they called in the old sergeant at the-
door, who had been in the battle, and of course could
tell; but he scratched his head, and said, in his vulgar
way, " I be hanged ff I can tell." Well, the great object
was, suppose we were invaded by a French army, what
should we do .' Why, he would say, give them an enter
tainment in Hyde Park. As a friend of his said, wheri
asked, "What would you do, sir, if a Frenchman came
into your house ? " " Why, I would give him a chair to
sit down upon." That was the way to conquer men's .
hearts. He had seen felons in Newgate, clanking their
chains, undisturbed by the force of law and the terror of
punishment, melted into contrition by the gentle voice of
Elizabeth Fty, speaking the truth in love." Mr. Bowly
concluded by suggesting that the French should hence
forth be considered, not as our natural enemies, but as
our nearest foreign neighbors, our natural friends. After
several other brief speeches, abounding in good humor,
the company remained tfll a late hour greatly enjoying
the opportunity for social intercourse.

CHAPTER XII.
1852.
Peace Congress at Manchester; 'War Imminent between
England and France; Efforts of the League of Uni
versal Brotherhood ; Mr. Burritt 'Visits France in the
Cause of Peace ; Peace Congress at Edinburgh in 1853 ; ,
Mr. Burritt Returns to United States and Devotes
Himself to Ocean Penny Postage; In 1854 he Returns
to England for Same Cause.
The following year, 1852, was marked by an event
which made it desirable, and even necessary, that
the Peace Congress should again be held in England.
This event was the coup d'itat which suddenly
transformed the French Republic into the Second
Empire. The friends of Peace, therefore, met at
Manchester ; but though it was a very satisfactory
meeting, and well attended, it was far more English,
or national, in its composition than the previous con
gresses had been. The sudden and violent act of
Louis Napoleon produced a profound and angry
sensation in England and other countries. It
aroused a wide-spread and energetic indignation in
the English press and Parliament, and seemed to
excite and inflame the old hereditary suspicion and
prejudice towards the French nation as well as gov
ernment The French press was held back by se
vere restriction ; but if full liberty for recrimination
had been allowed it, the two nations would have
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LEAGUE OF BROTHERHOOD.

143

Jl

been in imminent danger of drifting into war. As
it was, that danger was very serious. Leading Eng
lish journals and public men wrote and spoke with
that unrestricted expression of sentiment so 'charac
teristic of the English mind and habits.
The League of Universal Brotherhood resolved
to try the plan of friendly international addresses,
as a counteracting influence against this rising tide
of hostile sentiment. Through their instrumentality,
over fifty of the largest towns in Great Britain sent
manuscript letters, or addresses, to as many different
towns in France, disclaiming all sympathy with the -
unfriendly sentiments expressed by public journals
and speakers, and conveying to their French breth
ren their hearty good-will and assurances of esteem,
and inviting their earnest co-operation in preserving
and strengthening amicable relations between the
two countries. London, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and
Dublin addressed such communications to Paris,
Manchester to Marseilles, Liverpool to Lyons, Bir
mingham to Bordeaux, Bristol to Brest, Leeds to
Lisle, Sheffield to Strasburg, etc.
Most of these addresses were signed by the mayors
and other authorities of the towns, and by a large
number of their principal citizens. The one from
Glasgow bore four thousand names, including the
city authorities, members of Parliament, the heads
of the University, and other influential persons.
Mr. Burritt was the bearer of these addresses, and
traveled over most of France to present them, in
person, to the proper authorities. He also made
copies of every address for all the journals of the

iEL

144

ELIHU BURRITT.

town, and waited upon their editors to obtain inser
tion of them, which was always accompanied with a
favorable introduction. Thus the whole French
nation were made acquainted with the real sentiment
of the English people towards them, which English
newspapers and political speeches had greatly mis
represented. The effect or result, of this movement
cannot be ascertained, but it so happened, within a
year, that England and France were united, as they
never had been before, in a great and perilous enterr
prise, and were seen marching, shoulder to shoulder,
in the Crimean war.
The Peace Congress of 1853 was held in Edin
burgh, and was marked with several special charac
teristics. One of these was the presence of John
Bright, who had never before attended one of these
great meetings. Here he sat beside his old confrhe
in reforms, Richard Cobden, and the two men spoke
for peace with their old inspiration in the Anti-Corn-
Law agitation. Another incident of peculiar inter
est was the presence, on the platform, of the veteran
and celebrated admiral. Sir Charles Napier, who
made a vigorous speech, claiming himself to be as
good an advocate of peace as the best of them,
although he would put down war by war. Cobden's
answer to his arguments was a masterly effort of
reasoning power. Dr. Guthrie, and other eminent
men of Edinburgh, took a part in the proceedings,
and the meeting was regarded as one of the most
successful of the series.
Immediately after the Edinburgh Congress, Mr.
Burritt returned to the United States, and gave

OCEAN PENNY POSTAGE.

145

-S*%

^

himself entirely to the Ocean Penny Postage agita
tion. He addressed public meerings on the subject
in many of the considerable towns, and also had the
opportunity of laying it before members of the legis
latures of Massachusetts, Maine, and Rhode Island.
A committee was formed in Boston to sustain and
guide the movement, of which the late Dr. S. G.
Howe was chairman.
Having addressed many public meetings on the
question in different" States, Mr. Burritt spent three
months in Washington, seeking to enlist members
of Congress in behalf of the reform. The chair
man of the postal committee. Senator Rush, was
quite favorable to it ; and at his request Mr. Burritt
drew up a report for the committee to adopt, pre
senting the main facts and arguments to be urged
upon the attention of Congress. Hon. Charies
Sumner agreed to bring forward the proposition,
and Senators Douglas, Cass, and others on the
democratic side of the house promised to sup
port it.
The Nebraska Bill, however, blocked the way
from week to week, and as the postponement was
likely to be prolonged, Mr. Burritt made a tour
through southern and western States to enlist an
interest in those sections. He visited Richmond,
Petersburg. "Wilmington. Charieston, Augusta, Ma
con, Milledgevflle, and other southern cities, in sev
eral of which he presented the subject at public
meetings, and personally canvassed for signatures to
petitions to Congress in behalf of the reform in all
of them. And 'it is an interesting fact, that the first
13

W4r

146

(-''

ELIHU BURRITT.

and only petitions from Charieston and other south
ern centers, for an object of national interest, were
presented by Senators Mason, Badger, Butler, and
Toombs, for Ocean Penny Postage. From Chicago,
on his return journey, Mr. Burritt passed through
Canada, and obtained petitions to the British Parlia
ment in Toronto, London, Hamilton, and other
towns. In August, 1854, Mr. Burritt returned to England,
and confined his labors principally to the Ocean
Penny Postage question, still conducting the Olive
Leaf Mission on the Continent. The League of
Brotherhood now concentrated its efforts upon these
two movements. Under its auspices an Ocean
Penny Postage bazaar was held in Manchester, which
supplied funds for more extended operations. A
wide-spread and active interest was awakened in
the subject which resulted in a deputation of more
than two hundred influential men to Lord Aberdeen,
to urge upon the government the most forcible con
siderations in favor of the reform. The venerable
Sir John Burgoyne, and many influential members
of Parliament and leading men from all parts of the
kingdom, formed the deputation.
In the mean time, a large number of petitions
were presented, daily, in the House of Commons,
where Right Hon. T. M. Gibson had undertaken to
bring forward the proposition, and Hon. C. B. Ad-
derley, from the conservative side of the house, was
to second the motion. Mr. Burritt went to Holland
and Prussia, and had interviews with cabinet minis
ters of those countries, with the view of obtaining

ENGLISH ACTION.

147

i-

their co-operation, at least to this extent — that if
England and the United States reduced the ocean
rate to a penny, they should engage to reduce their
inland charge on letters crossing the sea to the
same. Under the pressure of all this public inter
est in the question, the English government reduced
its postal charges to India, Australia, Canada, and
to all its other colonies, to six pence for a single
letter, and to four pence to France. This was full
one-half of what was sought in the agitation, and
as the government intimiited a willingness to go
farther after trying the experiment, the movement
was virtually closed, as the main argument on which
it rested had been met. A long delay attended the
second installment, so that an Ocean Penny Postage
between England and the United States and other
countries was not fully realized until 1 870.

'^'

CHAPTER XIII.
Efforts for Peace Suspended; Labors for Compensated
Emancipation ; Efforts Checked by John Brown's Raid ;
Mr. Burritt Retires to his Farm.
A war having broken out between Russia and the
Allied Powers, all special operations in the cause of
peace were, for the time, suspended: But Mr. Bur
ritt could not cease, even for a brief period, from
active effort in some phflanthropic work. The an
tagonism between freedom and slavery, in America,
was becoming, more and more, a serious matter,
threatening the peace, if not the ruin, of the nation.
In considering this subject, with all its dangers, Mr.
Burritt came forward as the advocate of Compen
sated Emancipation. His proposition was to dispose
of the public lands and apply the avails to the pur
chase of the slaves. In promulgating and advocat
ing his views and plans, he, for a year, while in
London, assumed the editorship of a monthly per
iodical, caUed "The Citizen of the World." This
was published in Philadelphia and somewhat exten
sively circulated.
After a year's stay in England, Mr. Burritt re
turned to America, and spent several winters in
traveling and advocating his plan. In this time he
addressed public meetings in most of the important
towns, from Maine to Iowa city, — in one winter
traveling for this purpose nearly ten thousand miles.
(148)

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jAt

COMPENSATED EMANCIPATION.

149

J^

After much time devoted to writing and lecturing,
he deemed it desirable to call a convention of prom
inent men, with the hope of giving to the subject
some definite form for concentrated action. He
sent out a petition, for a call for such a convention,
which received the signatures of nearly one thou
sand prominent men from all the free states, and
some from the south.
The convention was held in Cleveland, Ohio, in
August, 1856, and was attended by a goodly number
of delegates from various parts of the country. Dr.
Mark Hopkins of Williams College, Mass., was
chosen President. Gerritt Smith and other promi
nent anti-slavery men took part in the discussion,
and a resolution was passed favoring the organiza
tion of "The National Compensated Emancipation
Company." The venerable Dr. Nott of Union
College was chosen President, Dr. Hopkins of Mass.,
Gov. Fairchild of "Vermont, and other influential
men of different States, were made "Vice-Presidents,
and Mr. Burritt was appointed Secretary.
After the convention the Secretary gave himself,
with his usual energy, to the work assigned him.
He called conventions, gave lectures, and wrote
short articles for the newspapers. Many of these
articles were copied into papers in the southern
states, with favorable comments, — though they gen
erally took the ground that the North would never
make any pecuniary sacrifice in the way proposed.
They moreover argued that the true object of the
northern states was to hedge in slavery until it
should expire for want of room.
13*

ISO

elihu BURRITT.

Mr. Burritt contended that the whole nation was,
directly or indirectly, morally responsible for the
existence of slavery, and hence that all should bear
a part in the work of its extinction. He claimed
that the nation had, in its public lands, the means
to pay for the emancipation of the slaves ; that the
lands, if wisely disposed of, would not only yield
enough to pay for all the slaves, but also afford a
surplus of about three hundred mfllion of dollars
for aiding, for a time, the emancipated slaves.
The proposition began to be favorably considered
and freely discussed. Many petitions to Congress
were presented by members of both houses — includ
ing ' Messrs. Sumner, Seward, and others in the
Senate. "But," in the words of Mr. Burritt "just
as it had reached that stage at which Congressional
action w^sls about to recognize it as a legitimate prop
osition, 'John Brown's raid' suddenly closed the
door against all overtures or efforts for the peaceful
extinction of slavery. Its extinction by compensa
tion would have recognized the moral complicity of
the whole nation in planting and perpetuating it on
this continent. It would have been an act of re
pentance, and the meetest work for repentance th-e
nation could perform. But it was too late. It was
too heavy and red to go out in tears. Too late ! It
had to go out in blood, and the whole nation opened
the million sluices of its best life to deepen and
widen the costly flood. If, before these sluice-gates
were opened to these red streams, so hot with pas
sion, one bona fide offer had been made by the North
to share with the South the task, cost, and duty of
lifting slavery from the bosom of the nation, perhaps

4iir

MR. BURRITT AS FARMER.

ISl

f;

thousands who gave up their first-born and youngest-
born to death might have looked into that river of
blood with more ease and comfort at their hearts.
Although the earth has drunk that red river out of
human sight it still runs fresh and full, without the
waste of a drop, before the eyes of God ; and the
patriot, as well as Christian, might well wish that
he could recognize in the stream the shadow of an
honest effort on the part of the North to lift the
great sin and curse without waiting for such a deluge
to sweep them away."
Though Mr. Burritt's emancipation scheme failed
he had labored for its accomplishment with a most
laudable zeal and interest If he could have achieved
what he so ardentiy desired, what thousands of
precious lives and millions of treasure might have
been saved to the country ! " But Old John Brown
was marching on," and at Harper's Ferry he put
his foot on "compensated emancipation,", and for
ever stopped its march.
Mr. Burritt now retired to his farm in New Britain,
well satisfied that he had done all in his power for
the furtherance of objects regarded by him so im
portant. It was to him a great luxury to be, for a
time, free from the mental labor and anxiety which
had so long oppressed him. With the greatest zest
he entered upon the cultivation of his acres, with a
strong desire to rejoice in making two spires of
grass grow where one had not before. Not only
did he do what he could in improving his ^own land,
but he labored also to awaken that "esprit de corps"
in those of similar vocation, which would be sure to
make farming more honorable and more successful.

nm

CHAPTER XIV.
Fourth "Visit to Europe ; Walks from " London to John
O'Groat's." and from "London to Land's End;" Ap
pointed Consular Agent; Walks in the Black Country
and its Green Border Lands; Superseded as Consul;
Testimonials op Esteem; Presentation Address'; Re
sponse. In 1863 Mr. Burritt again went to Europe, partiy
to visit old friends, but mainly with the view of car
rying out his long cherished and favorite idea of a
foot tour through parts of England. During the
winter after his arrival he engaged in lecturing on
subjects of general interest, in various parts of the
kingdom, but, early in the summer of 1863, he com
menced his proposed walk from " London to John
O'Groat's." His intention was to visit some of the
largest and best' managed farms of England and
Scotland. This he did for the two-fold purpose of
gratifying his own wishes and acquiring information
that might be of advantage to himself and his agri
cultural neighbors on his return to America, — and
more particularly to an agricultural society of which
he was secretary.
Mr. Burritt reached John O'Groat's on the 28th
of September, 1863, having often diverged some
twenty or thirty miles from a direct course in order
to visit certain farms, or acquire desired knowledge
of certain localities. On the first of June, 1864, he
started on a walk from London to Land's End to
(152)

M»

CONSULAR AGENT.

IS3

complete his contemplated foot-tour of the island.
On this walk, as on the previous one, he several
times diverged from the direct route that he might
visit certain prominent farms, and large flocks of
sheep, or herds of cattle. On his return to London
from Land's End he passed along by the western
sea-coast, up the valley of the Wye, and "thence
through Herefordshire, Worcestershire, Oxfordshire,
and Berkshire. On the winter following he lectured
in a large number of towns between Truro in Corn
wall, and Inverness in Scotland. Mr. Burritt wrote
two volumes descriptive of these walks, entitled
respectively, "A Walk from London to John
O'Groat's," and "A Walk from London to Land's
End and Back." These were published in London,
and quickly passed through two editions. They
were books of more than ordinary interest and in
formation. Selections from each may be found in
the second part of this volume.
In the spring of 1865 Mr. Burritt was appointed
Consular Agent for the United States at Birming
ham. The marvelous part of this appointment was,
that it was given without any solicitation on his part
and was accepted almost reluctantly, with the appre
hension that it might interfere with his literary
labors. He soon ascertained, however, that he could
write for the press, even at his office, and at the same
table with his clerk, and subject to constant inter
ruption. As it was one of the duties of American Consuls
to collect and communicate to the Department at
Washington facts relating to the industrial pursuits

m

-^

1 54

ELIHU BURRITT.

and productions of their consulates, he visited the
various manufacturing towns and villages in the
Birmingham district, and published a large volume,
called "Walks in the Black Country and its Green
Border Lands." * This also went to the second edi
tion in a few months, and was regarded as the first
and only popular history of Birmingham and the sur
rounding district, which had ever appeared. On
receiving a copy for the Department, Secretary
Seward wrote to the author, expressing much satis
faction in regard to the character and value of the
book. The next year Mr. Burritt wrote a book
called " The Mission of Great Sufferings ; " he also
collected his previous writings, and published them
in several volumes.
At the close of 1866, his most -intimate English
friend and co-worker, Edmund Fry, died suddenly on
the platform in London, while addressing a public
meeting on the Peace question. Mr. Fry had been
secretary of the League of Universal Brotherhood
until its amalgamation with the London Peace So
ciety, and had conducted the Bond of Brotherhood
for many years. Mr. Burritt now assumed the entire
editorship of the periodical to which he had been a
regular contributor while in the United States. He
undertook also to fill it with the productions of his
own pen, and the supplying of sixteen large pages
monthly made no slight literary task. At the end
of the year he changed the name it had borne since
1846, to "Fireside Words," with the view of making
it more of a general, or literary character. He de-
* Extracts from this may be found in the second part of ths volume.

J*^

*!•

MR. BURRITT SUPERSEDED.

155

voted a department of it to the young, in which he
proposed to give familiar and simple " Fireside Les
sons in Forty Languages," which cost him much labor
to prepare. In addition to these literary and official
labors, he accepted invitations to lecture in most of
the towns and villages of The Black Country, which
service he always performed gratuitously, for the
pleasure of making acquaintance with the people of
the district, and of helping on their institutions for
intellectual improvement.
On the election of General Grant to the Presi
dency, nearly all the United States Consuls in Great
Britain were removed to make room for more worthy
or more importunate- claimants for the situations.
Mr. Burritt, of course, was one of the superseded ;
which, however, he had but little pecuniary reason
to regret, for Congress had cut down the annual
allowance of the Birmingham consulate to fifteen
hundred dollars a year, although the business of the
office amounted to about five million dollars per
annum, and cost, for office-rent, clerk-hire, and other
expenses, over one thousand dollars a year to carry
it on, thus leaving the Consular agent hardly five
hundred dollars for his services and support. And,
what was a singular circumstance, the more business
done for the United States government, the less
was the compensation of the agent, as his inevita
ble expenses were larger, while his allowance was
not increased. Mr. Burritt had represented this
circumstance to the Department, which generously
rectified the matter in favor of his successor, erect
ing the Birmingham agency into an independent
consulate, with a full salary to the incumbent.

156

ELIHU BURRITT.

MR. BURRITT S RESPONSE.

157

On leaving the post, Mr. Burritt received several
gratifying testimonials of esteem from the inhab
itants of towns in the district, for the interest he
had manifested in their institutions. The most
prized of these expressions of good-will was the
presentation of a set of Knight's Illustrated Shakes
peare, comprising eight splendid volumes, by the
people of the parish of Harborne, a suburb of Bir
mingham, where Mr. Burritt resided during the four
years of his consulate. The following is the address*
presented by the vicar of the parish, at a large pub
lic meeting of persons belonging mostly to his con
gregation. " Harborne, May 26, 1869.
" To Elihu Burritt, Esq., Consul and Representative of
the United States of America, Birmingham : —
" Respected and_ dear Sir : We have heard, with the
most unfeigned regret, that your residence amongst us is
about to terminate. During your four years of sojourn in
the parish of Harborne, we have ever found in you a kind
and sincere friend, and a warm and generous supporter of
every good and philanthropic work. We are only express
ing our hearts' true feeling in saying that we very deeply
deplore your anticipated departure, and shall ever remem
ber, with the liveliest emotions, your oft repeated acts of
courteous kindness. Your aim has always been to for
ward the interests of the parish from which you are now,
on the termination of your mission, about to separate.
We are sure the affectionate regard of the parishioners
* This address and the response of Mr. Burritt are given in full
because such incidents and occasions as they represent do much to
show the character and influence of the man -among those to whom
he is most Intimately known.

M

^'

generally will follow you to your new sphere of labor and
usefulness ; and it is our prayer and heartiest wish that
your life may long be spared to pursue your honorable ca
reer, sb that by your writings, not less than by your exam
ple, many may receive lasting good. We take leave of
you, dear sir, assured that you will not forget Harborne
and its people, on whose hearts your name will long remain
engraved. We ask you to accept the accompanying vol
umes, with this numerously signed address, which we think
will, in your estimation, be the most assuring token of our-'
deep regard and affectionate remembrance of yourself, and
respectful appreciation of your character."
To this address Mr. Burritt replied as follows :
"Mr. Chairman, Ladies and Gentlemen: I am so
deeply affected with surprise and other mingled emotions
at this most unexpected expression of your good-will, that
I do not know what to say, or where to begin. The lan
guage of the heart is simple, and my words must be few
and simple. With my heart mnning over with grateful
thoughts, I thank you for this rich token of your kindness.
To say, ' I thank you,' is a vety short and simple express
ion ; but I assure you it means not only my thanks this
evening, but thanks that shall last as long as my Iffe, for
this precious testimonial of your regard. I say it hon
estly, that I shall carry the memoty of Harborne with me
to my last day on earth.
The four happiest years of my Iffe I have lived here ;
for all my other years I had been a kind of wanderer. I
had been engaged in public movements that took me about
the world in different directions, and left me no time to
settle down in any fixed residence. But here, in Harborne,
I found the first home of my own that I ever possessed, a
home in which my happiest memories will live as long as

158

ELIHU BURRITT.

MR. BURRITT S RESPONSE.

159

I can rememberany of the experiences of past life. Here
I found a home-like people and a home-like church, with
whose members I could sit down in social sympathy and
silent communion through all the quiet Sabbaths of the
year, and feel myself one of the congregation, and as much
at home with them as if I had been born in Harborne, and
baptized in ffs parish church. It has been to me a rich
privilege and enjoyment to say w^ with you in all that per
tains to the best interests of the parish, just as if I had
cast in my lot with you for the rest of my days. The
beautiful music of your Sabbath bells has been a song of
joy to me, and it will come to me, in'my dearest memories
and dreams of Harborne, like a whisper from heaven. I
accept this splendid gift of your good will with all the
more grateful pleasure as a token, also, that I shall not
be forgotten by you when I am gone from your midst. I
wish most earnestly to be remembered by you all ; and I
hope, ff my life is spared, to remind you occasionally that
my spirit is still a resident of Harborne, though in person
I am far away. I should like to have all the children of
these schools remember that a man of my name once re
sided here, who felt a lively interest in them, and loved to
see their happy faces in these rooms and at church ; and
if I ever write any more books for children, it wfll be a
delight to me to send the first copies to them. The littie
legacy of my life I shall leave in the books I have written,
and it wiU give me pleasure to think that there will be one
library in Harborne in which they may all be found, by
those who may wish to see what thoughts I have endeav
ored to put forth during my residence among you and be
fore it commenced. In conclusion, this anniversary is
one of deep and affecting interest to me. Four years ago
I came into these rooms for the first time with my dear
nieces, now present, as strangers to you all. We had not

1

expected to be recognized as residents of Harborne, for
we had been here only a few days ; but we shall never for
get the warm and generous welcome you gave us on that
occasion. Indeed, we were almost overwhelmed with
such a hearty manifestation of your kindness to us. Ever
since that happy evening in our experience, we have lived
in the atmosphere of the same kindness and good-will ;
and I desire in behalf of my beloved nieces, as well as
my own, to thank you most heartily for all your kind
ness and good wishes on our behalf. These make a good-
by which they will remember with grateful sensibility
on their voyage across the ocean, in their native land and
their mother's house. Both these dear companions, who
have made and shared the happiness of our Harborne home,
will carry with them, as long as they live, a most pleasant
memoty of your esteem and good-will from the first to the
last day of our residence among you ; and if we should be
spared to settle dovra together again in our American home,
we shall often talk over the happy years we have spent
here. So far as we can do it in thought we shall often
sit down together in the same church pew we have so long
occupied, and fancy we are listening to the same voice
from the pulpit, and to the same sweet voices from the
choir, and imagine we are surrounded by the same famil
iar faces. We shall connect Harborne with our own na
tive village by a tie of lasting personal interest I hope
the name we gave our delightful home here will be retained
by successive occupants, so that ' New Britain Villa ' * will
be left with you as a pledge of mutual remembrance, as a
kind of clasp between the village of our birth and the vil
lage of our adoption. Once more I thank you from our
united hearts for this splendid, this precious testimonial

* In honor of Mr. Burritt this was subsequently changed to '
ritt ViUa."

Bur-

i6o

ELIHU BURRITT.

of your regard. I would thank you again and again for
your kindness of words and of wishes. I thank you for
your generous expressions towards the country to which
we belong, and which, to an infinitesimal degree, we have
represented among you. I hope the day may come when
the same sentiments will be felt and expressed between
our two great nations as- you have cherished towards us
and we towards you, and which we have interchanged this
evening. It will be the crowning remembrance of my life
that I have labored to bring about this state of feeling
between England and America. And now may Heaven
bless you all, both here and in the worid to come."
While in Birmingham Mr. Burritt rented a neat
cottage in Harborne district, where, for the first
time since leaving the parental roof, he had a home
of his own,— though for many years he had been
most cordially welcomed to many of the best homes
in England. His two nieces, previously alluded to,
and to whom he was greatly attached, resided with
him and delighted in promoting his comfort and
happiness. To this home, which he christened
" New Britain Villa," many of his American friends
were most kindly welcomed and hospitably enter
tained at different times. Those who were thus
favored will long and gratefully remember the great
cordiality and kindness by which their visit was
made delightfully pleasant.

90^ I i

CHAPTER XV.
RESUMES THE STUDY OF LANGUAGES; SiX ^-^ AT OXFORI. >
Returns to America; School-house Honored with his
5!me PURPOSE of r;turningto Europe Frustrated by
Say AccTdknt; Decides to Spend the Remainder of
his Days in his Native Town,
When Mr. Burritt entered upon the duties of the .
Consulate at Birmingham, he had completed twenty
years of earnest and continued labor connected with
various reformatory measures, but, more particularly,
those relating to Anti-Slavery, Peace, Ocean Penny
postage, and Compensated Emancipation. Dunng
these years he devoted himself so unreservedly to
these objects that he gave no time to literary pur
suits or labors. Much as such pursuits would have
been agreeable to him, he found it impossible to con
tinue his work as a philanthropist, and at the same
time prosecute his studies in the languages to advan-
tacre But, on settling down to his official labors, he
found his time and attention much less occupied than
they had been for many years, and he gladly devoted
his leisure hours to his favorite studies. He soon
ascertained that six different alphabets, and many of
the words and phrases of the language they repre
sented, had gone from his memory. He was. how
ever, very glad to find that they were not entirely
lost, and that he could very readily regain them, and
so renew his old studies with increased relish, energy,
and success. 14 (161)

Jr

162

ELIHU BURRITT.

Mr. Burritt had conceived a strong desire to spend
a year in old Oxford, to breathe its classic atmos
phere, enjoy its venerable associations, and ,have a
temporary being in the culture of its centuries of
learning. But the raost he could do was to spend
six weeks in that grand old city, which had seemed
to him the very store-house of all learning. Short as
the time was, he fully realized all that he had antici
pated, and with the keenest relish he enjoyed its
incomparable privileges, elevating companionships,
and its literary and social life. He never ceased to
regard the pleasant acquaintance here made with
Max Miiller, Dr. Bosworth, Thorold Rogers, and other
professors and officers of the University, as one .of
the most profitable as well as enjoyable of his whole
life. Of Oxford and its institutions he thus wrote
in his journal:
Oxford is the right lobe of the great heart of Educational
and Ecclesiastical England ; Cambridge is the other; and
both have beaten with a common and even pulse for many
centuries. A New Englander will visit both.with equal in
terest, thread back their long-reaching histories, and the
influences they have brought to bear upon the intellectual
shaping of the Anglo-Saxon race, without instituting any
comparison between them favoring one above the other.
They have both had their work and performed it, sepa
rately in process, but one in result. If Cambridge took
hold of the young heart of New England with the force
and fervor of stronger associations than did Oxford, it was
not so much from the different character of the two seats
of learning, as from the fact that the Puritan and Pilgrim
Fathers were mostly from the eastern counties of England,
and their Cottons and Hookers and Wflsons and Stones,

OXFORD.

163

**^

."(Sm"

should call the seat of the first college they erected in the
New World, Cambridge. Still, I will not attempt to ac
count for the fact that no Oxfo}-d university has ever been
established in America. Reasons for this which we have
forgotten may have operated upon the first generations of
our ancestors. - The history of this famous city of colleges
had not been softened to them as it is now to us. The
purifying dews of heaven had not fallen long enough to
blanch the blackened and blistered earth on which Cran-
mer, Ridley, and Latimer were burnt at the stake. The
memory of Wolsey, Laud, Pole, and their like in Church
and State, was fresher in the minds of our forefathers and
foremothers than it is in ours. But, whatever were the
reasons why we have no seat of learning called after this
venerable and stately mother of high English education,
no well-read American can visit it without feeling his mind
taken hold of by the fascination of a peculiar interest.
Here he will see where the intellectual life and stature of
a mother of nations were cradled. Here, when our great
English tongue was lisping for a place among living
speeches, schools of thatched roofs and wattled walls were
planted^ by monkish missionaries of popular education.
Here the classics and higher branches of learning passed
through their log-cabin era. Here the more polished Nor
man built his Latin structures upon the homely Saxon
strata. Here their different orders of intellectual and
scholastic architecture may be seen intermixed, but not
interfused. Here you may read in the frontlets of a score
of colleges the records of an enthusiasm as fervid in its
way as that which produced the Crusades. To build a
temple of learning, which should bear the donor's name
down through all generations, was equal to the capture of
Gaza, Acre, or Jemsalem itself, to many a wealthy aspir
ant to a lasting memoty. So, as the walls of Jemsalem

164

ELIHU BURRITT.

BODLEIN LIBRARY.

165

were rebuilt, piece by piece, bythe princes of the Hebrew
tribes under Nehemiah, Oxford has been filled wffh these
grand collegiate structures by munificent individuals, who
coveted a good remembrance in the l:ieart of a remote
posterity. The University embraces nineteen colleges, constituting
a federal republic of letters outnumbering the old thirteen
United States under Washington, in individual members
of the commonwealth. It has its own federal pariiament
and president cabinet council, and senators, and exists
and acts with much of the organism of a little compact
nation by itself. It is not only to this extent imperium in
imperio, but it is empowered with a political influence upon
the outside world which probably few Americans are aware
of. Now, all the Faculty and Fellows of the University
reside in Oxford, and all the graduates who have attained
to the degree cf M.A. form a great, powerful, and unique
political constituency. They elect a member to represent
them in Parliament. This almost invisible, intangible,
and inapproachable constituency is diffused over the
length and breadth of the Unked Kingdom. It is mostly
made up of clergymen in countty towns, villages, and par
ishes, who have lately been allowed to vote at Oxford by
proxy, or by sending in their certified ballots by post It
was this constituency of Oxford scholars of the first grade,
numbering over five thousand, that the brilliant Gladstone
had represented for many years, until, at the last election,
.they threw him out under the suspicion that he was waver
ing in his fidelity to the National Church. It is a signifi
cant fact that the majority of those who voted against him
were the M.A.'s resident in rural districts.
The vety Capitol of this Republic of Colleges, to my
mind, is the Bodkin Library. This was founded by the
munificent Sir Thomas Bodley, and opened with eclat in

¦#

1602, when it numbered "more than two thousand vol
umes," says the historian, with a sentiment of pride and
admiration. It was doubtiess on that day the largest col
lection of books in England ; and the art of printing had
been in operation for more than a hundred and fffty years.
It is interesting to an American to strike into the pathway
of English literaty history at this point. It brings our
New England experience almost parallel with hers just at
this stage. Not a great many years after the Bodlein
Library, with its two thousand volumes, was opened with
great circumstance and ceremonial, a number of Connec
ticut ministers met, and brought each a few books as a
contribution to the founding of Yale College and Libraty
at New Haven. I believe their united donations produced
two hundred volumes. But the Bodlein Library has had
a more productive source of augmentation than the inci
dental accession of private libraries and smaller voluntaty
contributions. When it had reached a certain growth
from these sources, an act of Parliament came in to give
it a constant and grand expansion. It was the levying of
a simple tax in its behaff upon every publisher in the
kingdom. A copy of evety book, great or small, entered
at Stationers' Hall, London, for copyright was to be de
posited there for this great Oxford library, and another for
the British Museum, These two institutions, therefore,
preserve the minutest lives and records of English books,
pamphlets, etc. The most insignificant and weak-minded
of them all has its place and number here. So nothing
put in type and cover can drop from the press into oblivion
without its record. What a pity our young nation did not
found a similar institution — a great central Record Office
— that should preserve the title-pages of all our literaty
productions with as much care as we treasure up the title-
deeds of landed estates ! Nothwithstanding our national

l66 ELIHU BURRITT.
and natural self-complacency over our doings past, pres
ent, and posffive, in different departments of activity, we
have no one library which preserves a copy of every book
and pamphlet published in America, nor could we show
the world how many we have produced- from the Pilgrim
Fathers' day to our own. Many American writers have
been received into the goodly fellowship of the Bodlein
Library, which has accepted their contributions to its
great treasury of the literature of the English language.
Whfle walking up and down the ai.sles of this dim wood of
letters, I plead guilty to a thought of pride myself at the
fact that I had four books somewhere or other in the for
est ; and consequently had contributed one hundred-thou
sandth part of the whole collection numerically. If the
English press continues to produce books at the present
ratio, the Bodlein Libraty must number a million of vol
umes in the course of a centuty.
The city of Oxford presents a good setting for this
magnificent University. Its site, like that of Cambridge,
is very unfavorable for showing a town to advantage.
Both are almost on a dead level. If Oxford had been
built on Richmond Hill, or on the site of Windsor, it
would have stood almost unequaled in the world for a
splendid appearance. Still, it shows itself impressively.
If the ground it stands upon is low and level, the upper
surface of the town is so variegated arid picturesque that
you hardly notice that it is not built upon a hill. Grand
and lofty domes, church and college towers, turrets and
spires, towering roofs and imposing structures of evety
stature, so strange themselves in the view as to cancel the
worst disadvantage of the natural position, and to give to
the city a little of that " ridgy back, piled thick and high,"
of which Edinburgh boasts.
In 1870, Mr. Burritt left England, for the last time.

BURRITT SCHOOL.

167

j*W

UuRRiTT School.

and returned to America. He had been absent
seven years, including the term of his Consulate, and
so was glad once more to be in his native town
and among kindred and friends, by whom he was most
cordially received. He was now sixty years old —
nearly one-half of which he had passed in Europe.
As a mark of respect, and as evidence of the esteem
in which he was held by his townsmen, Mr. Burritt's
name was cut, broad and deep, on the front of a large
and beautiful school-house which was not quite com
pleted on his return home. Next to the record of a
good and useful life, no man could desire a better
monument to his memory. In all coming time the
hundreds who are yearly receiving instruction in
the "Burritt School" will be stimulated and encour
aged by the story of the noble life of him for whom
this school was named ; and annually many will enter
upon the stage of active life in various parts of the
land, who will with pride recall the fact that the
foundation of their education, and, it is hoped, of
their usefulness, was laid in the building on whose
front is engraven the honored name of one of the
world's greatest philanthropists.
Though Mr. Burritt had withdrawn from active,
and constant labors for the public good, he did not
retire to a life of idleness or inactivity. He knew
not what it was to cease from labor, and rest in idle
ness. His life had, for three-score years, been a
continued period of hard, unremitting labor, — of labor
performed not for self-aggrandisement or self-emol
ument, but in the cause of humanity and right. If
he had not accomplished all he desired, or all that he

jPIEST^

1 68

ELIHU BURRITT.

attempted to accomplish, he certainly had filled a
noble mission, and set in operation ideas and meas
ures which could not fail of good results to the world.
A new and lasting interest had been awakened in the
cause of Peace through his persistent efforts, with
voice and pen, and while the time has not yet come
for the nations of the earth to cease learning the arts
of war and " beating their swords into plow-shares,
and their spears into pruning-hooks," what candid
and thoughtful mind will not admit that the efforts
of Mr. Burritt, and his co-workers, have done much
towards preparing the way, and so hastening on the
blessed day, when wars shall cease, and Peace, like a
heavenly dove, shall brood over the whole earth.
And then who will undertake to estimate, or who
can estimate, the great advantages and blessings to
the world growing out of a cheap Ocean Postage,
for which Mr. Burritt labored more earnestly and
persistently than any other man. No reasonable
person can for a moment hesitate to accord to his
name the highest meed of praise for the accomp
lishment of this most desirable object.* By lectur
ing, by writing, by the free circulation of " Olive
Leaflets," by pictorial envelopes and note paper, he
kept the subject constantly in the minds, and before
the eyes, of the people, untU what he so ardently
desired and labored for came to be an established
fact — a fact for which millions wfll have occasion to
hold the name of Elihu Burritt in grateful and last
ing remembrance.
And then it must be admitted that the efforts of

• See Prof. Everett's letter in Appendix.

GENEVA TRIBUNAL.

169

Mr. Burritt to secure the settlement of national
difficulties by arbitration, instead of war, have not
been without great and favorable results. The con
summation of the Washington Treaty, whereby a
High Court of Arbitration for the settlement of the
very aggravated and threatening difficulty between
the United States and Great Britain, with a prelim
inary Congress at Washington, resulted in develop
ing new rules for the guidance of arbitration, and
supplied a very important part of an international
code. Thus the convention of the High Joint Com
missioners at Washington, and the Tribunal of Ar
bitration at Geneva, were by far the nearest approx
imation to the Congress and High Court of Nations
for which the friends of Peace had been laboring for
nearly a half century. Mr. Burritt had labored and
lectured extensively for the same idea. As soon as
the Geneva Tribunal had made its award in the
settlement of the "Alabama difficulties," the Amer
ican Peace Society resolved to do what it could to
convene a great International Congress in America
or Europe, for the purpose of putting the top-stone
to that great Temple of Peace which now seemed
ready for its crowning. Arrangements were made
for sending Mr. Burritt and the Rev. Mr. Miles,
the earnest Peace advocate, to Europe, to make
arrangements for such a Congress, if possible ; — but
an injury to the former, from a railway accident, pre
vented his accompanying Mr. Miles on this mission,
and consequently he went alone, ^^and met with a
very encouraging degree of success. Both of these
good men have been called to their account, and
15

'•**T3r

170

ELIHU BURRITT.

though their earthly labors have ceased, the good
seed they have sown will continue to grow and bear
fruit it may be a hundred fold, and prove a blessing
to the world,
Mr. Burritt, having been providentially prevented
from accompanying Mr, Miles to' England, decided
to spend the remainder of his days in New Britain,
though he often expressed a longing desire once
more to behold the faces of the many dear friends
he had made across the Atlantic. Of his last years
and their labors a brief account will be given in the
next chapter.

r^

<**

CHAPTER XVI.
His Early Life and Industry ; Studies in New Haven ;
Success ; Anecdote of His School Days ; The Danish
Will; Spirit as a Reformer; His New Britain Home;
Plans for Doing Good; Testimony of Z. Eastman.
From the preceding chapters the reader can hardly
fail of receiving the impression that Mr. Burritt
was a man of remarkable industry and perseverance.
Whatever he undertook to accomplish, he engaged
in with his whole soul, and with a determination to
make success sure, This was true of him from
boyhood through life. At the age of 16 the
protracted illness of his father threw the care of the
family upon Elihu, and most devoted and filial did
he prove, — working hard all day, and watching half
the night by the bedside of his sick father. Often
did he work fourteen hours a day and then spend
some time with his books. His mother, to whose
happiness and comfort he was devoted, once re
marked to a friend that she was sure Elihu would
be prospered, on account of his kindness to his
parents. At the age of 21 years he left the workshop and
went to New Haven to spend a winter in prosecut
ing his studies. To this he gave himself with the
greatest interest and earnestness. He took lodg
ings at an inn, and thus writes of the way in which
he gave himself to his books : (171)

J^

172

ELIHU BURRITT.

"As soon as the man who attended to the fires had
made one in the common sitting-room, which was at about
half-past four in the morning, I arose and studied German
till breakfast, which was served at half -past seven. When
the other boarders were gone to their places of business,
I sat down to Homer's Iliad, without a note or comment
to assist me, and with only a Greek and Latin lexicon.
A few minutes before the people came in to their dinner,
I put away all my Greek and Latin, and began reading
Italian, which was less calculated to attract the notice of
the noisy men who thronged the room at that hour.
After dinner I took a short walk, and then again sat down
to the Iliad, with a determination to master it without a
teacher. The proudest moment of my life was when I
had first gained the full meaning of the first fifteen lines
of that noble work. I took a triumphal walk in favor of
that exploit In the evening I read in the Spanish lan
guage until bed-time. I followed this course for about
three months, at the end of which time I had read nearly
the whole of the Iliad in Greek, and made considerable
progress in French, Italian, German, and Spanish." In
these last he recited to native teachers.
From Mn Burritt's private journal in 1837, the
following extracts will show how and under what
circumstances he pursued his studies at a later
period :
Monday, June 18, Headache ; forty pages Cuvier's Theory of
t'Be Earth ; sixty-four pages French ; eleven hours' forging.
June rg. Sixty lines Hebrew ; thirty pages French ; ten pages
Cuvier's Theory; eight lines Syriac; ten lines Danish; ten ditto
Bohemian ; nine ditto of Polish ; fifteen names of stars ; ten hours'
forging. June 20. Twenty-five lines Hebrew ; eight of Syriac ; eleven
hours' forging,
June 21, Fifty-five lines Hebrew ; eight of Syriac ; eleven hours'
forging.

>

>B

MR. BURRITT S EXAMPLE.

173

June 22. Unwell ; twelve hours' forging,
June 23, Lesson for Bible Class.
Many have asserted, and believed, that Mr, Bur
ritt was endowed with peculiar gifts and talents for
mental acquirements, particularly in the languages,'
but he thus writes of himself :
"All that I have accomplished, or expect or hope to
accomplish, has been, and will be, by that plodding,
patient, persevering process of accretion which builds
the ant-heap, particle by particle, thought by thought
fact by fact. If I was ever actuated by ambition, its
highest and warmest aspiration reached no further than
the hope to set before the young men of my countty an
example in employing those invaluable fragments of time
called ' odd moments.' "
And it is beyond question true that the example
and influence of Mr. Burritt has proved a stimulat
ing and encouraging power to more young men
than those of any other man within the last half
century.* It may truthfully be said that whatever talents
Mr. Burritt possessed, whether ordinary or extraor
dinary, they were kept bright and active by diligent
and constant use. Idle hours and unimproved tal
ents were _ unknown to him. With a strong and
abiding feeling that "life was earnest— life was
real," he entered upon his work and mission with a
* Soon after his death, an eminent judge of Connecticut said to the
writer, " I am more indebted to Mr. Burritt's example than all else,
for it was that by which I was incited and cheered in my long walks
over the hills to a distant school." And multitudes will bear similar
testimony. IS*

-¦ WSi

174

ELIHU BURRITT.

purpose and a will. Though almost daily suffering
from headache, which would have furnished to
many a sufficient excuse for refraining from all
effort, he did not cease his labors. His own suffer
ing was of no account if thereby he might afford
aid or relief to others. In illustration of this we
recall an incident of his boyhood, — which not only
confirms the truth of what we have said, but also the
truth of the adage, " The child is father of the man."
The incident or anecdote we had from his own lips,
and was in substance as follows : Young Elihu was
a member of the district school, and about 14 years
of age. In those days no district school was kept
without the ferule. This was not a simple, plain
rule, as now found in schools, and more used for
making straight lines on paper than for straightening
crooked boys by well applied blows. It was a verit
able instrument of torture, and when applied to the
hand, as it usually was, every blow had a telling
effect. Every schoolmaster had his ferule, and it
had a peculiar terror for "small boys and girls."
Elihu's master had one of these implements. For
its purpose it was a good one. If its influence was
not always reformatory, it certainly awakened strong
feelings. One day the school had been unusually
interrupted by whispering. The master's patience
was exhausted. The power of the ferule was re
sorted to. The first pupU detected in whispering
was to take the instrument and stand in the floor
until he detected some other like offender, to whom
he could surrender its keeping. We may be sure
there was the utmost vigflance, for it had been de-

ANECDOTE.

Jb

175

clar'ed that " the pupil who should have the ferule
in his keeping at the hour for dismission would be
punished for all the offenders of the afternoon."
This was a singular edict but there was no way of
escape. Whether all mankind suffer for the sin of
Adam may admit of doubt, but there was no doubt
whatever that the sins of whispering for the after
noon, in this school, were to fall upon the head or
hand of the last offender. He was to suffer for all
— though his sin might have been the least, as well
as the last, of the afternoon.
Suffice it to say that for a season it was not difficult
to find substitutes, but as the final hour drew near
there was more caution on the part of the watched,
as well as more vigilance on that of the watcher.
Only thirty minutes remained and an unusual still
ness prevailed — a quiet such as often precedes a near
approaching thunder storm. Just at this critical
time, a boy was mean enough to tempt Lucy W. — a
great favorite with all the scholars — to whisper and
so become the watcher and ferule-holder. Said Mr.
Burritt, "This was more than I could endure, I
could not bear the thought that the blows from that
ferule should fall upon the hand of that noble girl,
and so I whispered on purpose to save her, and be
came the willing, if not happy, recipient of 'forty
blows save one.' " And it may be added that young
Burritt would have taken a score of such inflictions
rather than have changed places with the boy who
had tempted Lucy to offend. The trait and spirit,
thus early developed, were a part of his very nature.
They grew with his growth, and strengthened with

176

ELIHU BURRITT.

his Strength, and became a leading power in the
whole man.
It has sometimes been said, by over-captious
critics, that Mr. Burritt's linguistic attainments were
of no practical use ; that though he might have
some knowledge of many languages, he could not
readily converse in them, etc. With equal truth it
may be said of most who acquire a knowledge of
languages, and an ability to read and understand
their meaning, that they cannot speak them fluently.
But Mr. Burritt could converse in many of them, and,
moreover, his knowledge gave him the ability to de
cipher or translate almost any language. Of the
truth of this we give the following incident, or fact.
Many years ago a Will, written in Danish, was sent
to this country, by interested parties in the West
Indies, that it might be translated. The manuscript
was one of the most difficult and obscure to deciphen
It was sent to several leading colleges without pro
curing the desired translation. No one had been
found who could give the interpretation of the doc
ument It was at length sent to Mr, Burritt the
"Learned Blacksmith." At the time he was busily
at work at the forge, but he could not refuse the
request to examine, and. if possible, translate the
paper. Indeed, it was just the case to excite his
curiosity and tax his abflities. He was acquainted
with the Danish language, but that was not all that
was necessary. The manuscript was badly written
and very obscure. He studied over it during his
spare hours, for about two weeks, when success
crowned his efforts and gladdened his heart. He

j*r

MR.

.RITT AS A REFORMER.

177

5*-

had succeeded where others had failed. The Will
was returned and its translation was entirely satis
factory ; and when asked for his bill, he modestly
said he should charge only what he should have
earned in the same time at his forge.
Mr. Burritt was a thoroughly good man, a sincere
friend, full of good will for all mankind.* It has
been said, and we believe truthfully, that he was
welcomed to more first-class families in England
than any other American. He made friends wher
ever he went, and never, by word or deed, gave
occasion for the loss of friendship. He could not
harbor an unkind feeling toward any human being.
As a reformer he often entertained views at variance
with other reformers, but they never caused any
alienation of feehng. Though very decided in his
own convictions and opinions, he was charitable and
kind to any who had different views, and in this par
ticular he was superior to most reformers, many of
whom are prone to indulge bitter and unkind feel
ings towards those who do not feel, and see, and act
in full sympathy with them. Though he was quite
tenacious of pursuing his own course and adopting
his own measures, which he honestly beHeved the
best be was in no sense hostile to those who enter
tained or advocated other, and widely different
measures. Mr. Burritt's love of peace and hatred of war were
* Of him, Prof. Longfellow thus writes : " I always had a great
admiration for the sweetness and simplicity of Mr. Burritt's char
acter, and was in perfect sympathy with him in his work 
Nothing ever came from his pen that was not wholesome and good."

-4.: t"

178

ELIHU BURRITTr.

equally strong. He could not tolerate the idea that
a resort to bloodshed was the only way of settling
difficulties and misunderstandings between different
nations, or the people of the same nation. When he
saw that a deadly conflict was threatening between
the different sections of our country he felt a strong
desire to remove all pretext for the same by resort
ing to the plan of compensated emancipation, and to
the adoption of this he gave his thoughts and labors
with great earnestness. So ardent was his desire
for this, that when at last the bloody contest com
menced, he felt so unreconciled to it, that for a time
he gave to many minds the impression that his sym
pathies were with the South. But at heart he was
thoroughly loyal to the government, though his de
testation of war was so great that he could not utter
a word, nor perform an act in favor of its prosecution.
His disappointment at the failure of, what seemed to
him, a more reasonable and humane plan for removing
the evil was so great that for a season he seemed to
have no sympathy with the North. But no man had
a stronger feeling against the evil of slavery or a
more intense desire for its removal. The course
adopted was at variance with all his own views,
though he came to consider it as the inevitable result
of an evil so long continued.
Mr. Burritt never married, and consequently had
no home of his own, if we may except the temporary
home at Harborne previously alluded to. But on
his return to his native town to remain, he found a
delit^htful home with a widowed sister* and two

-*T

* Mrs. Almira Strickland.

^

HIS NEW BRITAIN HOME. 179

nieces. The latter had been with him during his
consulate at Birmingham, and contributed largely to
his happiness there. Most cheerfully did they wel
come him to their home and the home of their
mother, and do all in their power to promote his
welfare ; a kindness he most gratefully appreciated.
But in retiring from public life and effort, he could ^
not setde down to a life of inactivity and ease. Such
a man could not exist without doing something for
the good of others. His strongest desires and aims
went forth for the amelioration of suffering, the re
moval of evil, or for the best good of his fellow
beings. Pie was ever ready to labor and suffer if
he might thereby relieve, rescue, or benefit others.
And now that his chief life-work was finished he
returned to dwell, for a few brief years, with the
friends of his youth and his kindred, and among
them to live and die. He felt a strong desire to do
them good and to make the community better
through his influence and efforts. He was ever de
vising some way, or plan, for benefiting others, and
especially the humbler classes. Until a few weeks
before his death he continued to write for prominent
newspapers and periodicals. His latest published
article was " The Reality and Mission of Ideal Char
acters," in which he pays a beautiful, but well-de
served, compliment to America's most honored poet.
This article appeared for the first time in the "Ca-.
nadian Monthly and National Review" only a few
weeks before Mr. Burritt's decease, and his eye
never saw it in type. It may be found among the
selections from his writings, in this volume.

i8o

ELIHU BURRITT.

Mr. Burritt wrote with much facility,— always
using the best language, and expressing his thoughts
with clearness and force. His published works were
about thirty in number, and in size varying from looto
more than 400 pages each. Many of these volumes
possess far more than ordinary interest and informa
tion. A list of his published works, and selections
from several of them, may be found in another part
of this volume.
In religious views, as well as by profession, Mn
Burritt was a Congregationalist, though he was
deeply interested in all evangelical church work.
"With charity for all and malice toward none," he
could enjoy church worship with all who were in
sympathy with the gospel plan of salvation. But his
deepest sympathies, and so his best efforts, were with
the humbler classes, whose church privileges were
limited. As a result he made special efforts to pro
vide for the religious improvement of those at a
distance from the churches of the city, or in the out
lying districts. In one section he erected, at his
own expense, and largely with his own hands, a
chapel sufficiently large to accommodate 300 persons.
This he provided, rent free, for such as would attend
meetings within its walls. These meetings were
usually conducted by laymen from the different
churches of the city, and did much to promote kind
ness of feeling and union of effort In his Will he
provided for the continuance of these meetings,
devising the chapel for the purpose. Much of the
time during the last few years of his life he was
instrumental in sustaining similar meetings in other

MISSION LABORS.

lai

sections of the town. On his small farm, nearly a
mile from the center of the city, he gave the use of
a building for a mission Sabbath-school. These dif
ferent meetings he often attended personally, though
he usually secured the aid of some of the younger
laymen from the several churches to take charge, —
thereby leading them to become active in Christian
work. As previously intimated, Mr. Burritt had a strong
desire to promote a spirit of kindness and harmony
between members of the different evangelical
churches. As an aid in this direction he did much
to secure union meetings in various parts of the
State. These meetings were usually held on Sun
day afternoons. Some layman was selected to take
charge, and invitations to attend and participate in
the exercises were sent to all the churches within a
reasonable distance. Much good resulted from
these meetings.
When Mr. Burritt became the owner of a few
acres of land, he at once felt a new interest in agri
cultural pursuits and a desire to improve and benefit
all engaged in tilling the soil, which he regarded as
a noble work, and, rightly followed, an ennobling
work. He formed an agricultural club, of which he
was for niany years secretary, and for which he pro
vided lectures and discussions, thereby doing what
he could to stimulate and elevate the farming popu
lation, and by them he will be held in long and
grateful remembrance.
For many years he was a member of the New
Britain Board of Education. He was much inter-
16

I82

ELIHU BURRITT.

SOME RESULTS.

183

ested in the educational growth of the town, and
spent much time in visiting the different schools, in
which he was always a most welcome visitor, both
to teachers and pupils. His countenance, so beam
ing with interest and goodness, was in itself a bene
diction to all, and the words of cheer and encourage
ment which he often spoke will not soon be. forgot
ten, nor will their influence be lost
As a last effort, he was instrumental in "getting
up" a course of "Penny Readings" for the benefit
of a large class who could never enjoy the more
expensive literary entertainments provided in such
places. He hired the largest hall in the city and
made arrangements for select readings, singing, etc.
These exercises were usually conducted by the
teachers and pupils from the schools, and proved
both interesting and profitable. The hall was
always well filled, and many had, what was to them,
the rare privilege of listening to good reading, music,
etc. The payment of two cents, each, was all that
was required, and this small sum provided for all
expenses. Of course those who took part in the
reading, or other exercises, did so without compensa
tion. Is not this plan worthy of adoption in many
places ?
His friend, Z. Eastman, Esq., thus briefly and
truthfully sums up Mr. Burritt's character and labors :
"Whatever good thing he saw or felt ought to be
done, he was ready to take hold of and work for with
all his might. A paragraph* from the first number
* Oh ! it is an honor equivalent to a heavenly knighthood to live
and act at this crisis of our country and world. 'We are just entering

.nSr

of his Christian Citizen well sets forth the energy
with which he went into all this work. A spirit of
inspiration seemed to possess him, and he must have
had the conviction that God was leading him in a
way that but few men have been led. It is not from
fields reaped that we are to judge of his work, but
from the vast fields sown, and from the seed yet
to spring forth, when other men, gifted with the
glorious genius for a world-embracing philanthropy,
shall arise to take the hints he gave, and add victo
rious momentum to movements which he was so
largely instrumental in starting. He was not the
impracticable dreamer that some have supposed.
He lived to see the desire of his heart fulfilled in the
position of England toward international commerce,
the amelioration of the condition of the laboring
poor of Ireland and England, the establishment of
cheap ocean postage, the adoption of the main prin
ciple of his Peace Congress methods of arbitration
in the settlement of international disputes between
Great Britain and the United States, and, a much
greater triumph, the end of slavery in our own coun
try, though in a way and at a cost of blood that most
upon the heroic age of Philanthropy, when the Captain of our salva
tion shall knight with a " new name " every Christian hero who proves
valiant for truth and freedom. Christians, patriots ! a-field ! a-field !
the battle-ground is the world. The banner which led out the angels
in bright array before man was made is floating over the scene of
mighty conquest, where deeds of immortal memory are to be done.
Your leader is there ; the angels and attributes of God are there ; the
spirits of the just made perfect are there ; the gospel, with all its
magazines of grace, is there ; the laws of nature and the deepest sym
pathies and necessities of the human soul are there ; all, all pressing
to the rescue oi fallen man. — Burritt.

1 84

ELIHU BURRITT.

deeply grieved his sympathetic heart. The best
synopsis of his character is, that he was himself a
true Christian citizen; and in being so, he blended
in beautiful harmony the cardinal principles of piety
and philanthropy, religion and humanity, love of
God and love of man."
Mn Burritt was in feeble health for two or three
years, but was confined to the house for only a few
months, previous to his decease. He contemplated
his approaching end with a trustful and submissive
spirit. Death was, for him, divested of its terrors,
and he talked with calmness of matters pertaining
to his last hours, the spot for his burial, and his
funeral ceremonies, of which more particular account
may be found in the appendix to this volume. He
knew in whom he believed, and when the grim mes
senger came he,
" With an unfaltering trust approached his grave.
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him and lies down to pleasant dreams,"

SELECTIONS.

185

SELECTIONS.

Mr, Burritt was the author of several volumes, the
most valuable of which were published in London, bythe
well known and very reputable house of Sampson, Low
& Co., of whose honorable dealings Mr, Burritt always
spoke in terms of strong commendation. Of these vol
umes, " Walk from London to John O'Groat's ;" " Walk
from London to Land's End ;" " Mission of Great Suffer
ings ;" " Walks in the Black Country ;" and " Notes and
Speeches," possessed more than ordinaty merit. We are
permitted to make extracts from these for the following
pages, to which are added selections from the published
and unpublished writings of Mr. Burritt, embracing quite
a variety of subjects. A more complete list of his works
may be found in the Appendix.

SELECTIONS.

I STRATFORD-UPON-AVON.
The Birthplace of Shakespeare; House in which he was
BoRN; Inscriptions on its Walls; Shakespeare's Fame
Increasing, etc
And this is Stratford-upon-Avon? Is there another
town in Christendom to equal it for the centripetal attrac
tion of one human memory? Let him who thinks he
can say there is tell us where the like may be found.
London is the birth-and-burial place of a large number
of distinguished poets, philosophers, statesmen, and heroes.
Their lives make for it a nebulous lusten The orbits of
their brilliant careers overiap upon each other, so that
their individual paths of light intersecting in their com
mon illumination, like netted sunbeams, do not make any
I vivid or distinctive lines over the face or over the histoty
I of the great city. But the memory of Shakespeare cov-
I ers with its disk the whole life and being and history,
I ancient and modern, of Stratford-upon-Avon. There is
§ nothing seen or felt before or behind it but William
I Shakespeare. In no quarter of the globe, since he was
I laid to his last sleep by the sunny side of the peaceful
jf^': river, has the name of the little town been mentioned
j! without suggesting and meaning him. Many a populous
j,; city is proud of the smallest segment of a great man's
I glory. " He was born here." That is a great thing to
i say, and they say it with exultation, showing this heirloom
: of honor to strangers as the richest inheritance of the
i town.
? (187)

i88

ELIHU BURRITT.

THE HOUSE IN WHICH HE WAS BORN.

189

But being born in a particular place is more a matter of
accident than of personal option. No one choose h
own birthplace, and the sheer fact that he there made his
entree mto the worid, is, after all, a rather negative dis-
inction to those who boast of it But quiet little Strat
ford-upon-Avon can say far more than this. Shakespeare
was not only bom here, but he spent his last days and
died here. Nor did he come back to his native town a
broken-down old man to be nursed in the last stages of
decrepitude and be buried with his fathers. He returned
hither at the zenith of his intellectual manhood, to spend
the Indian summer of his life in the midst of the scene
ries and companionships of his boyhood. Thus no other
human memory ever covered so completely with its spec
ulum the name or history of a town, or filled it with such
a vivid, vital image as Shakespeare's has done to Strat
ford-upon-Avon. Here,
" Like footprints hidden by a brook,
But seen on either side."
he has left them marks on the sunny banks, and across
the soft level meadows basking in the bosom of the little
riven The break is not wide between those he made in
these^ favorite walks in his youth and the footprints of
his ripe age as a permanent resident and citizen. Per
haps he and his Ann Hathaway, after his London life
delighted to make sunset strolls across the daisied fields
to the cottage of her childhood and of their first love
and troth.
Never before or since did a transcendent genius make
so much history for the worid and so littie for himself as
Shakespeare. Here is the quaint little house in which
he was born. It has been painted, engraved, photo
graphed, and described ad infinitum. You will find a
hundred picmres of it scattered over Christendom where

..r^-

you will find one of Solomon's Temple. Undoubtedly it
ranked as a capacious and comfortable dwelling in its
day. It is one of the skeleton type so common to the
Elizabethan age ; that is, the oaken bonework of the
frame is even with the brickwork of the outer walls, thus
showing the fleshless ribs of the house to the outside
world. The rooms are small, and very low between
joints ; still the one assigned by tradition as the birth
place of the great poet is large enough for the greatest
of men to be born in. Its ceiling overhead and side
walls, however, afford too scant table-space for the regis
try of the names of all who have sought thus to leave
their cards in homage of the illustrious memory. Their
whole surface, and even the small windows, have been
written and re-written over by the pilgrims to this shrine
from different countries. Here are names from the
extremest ends of the Anglo-Saxon world — from New
foundland and New Zealand, and all the English-speak
ing countries between. The Americans have contributed
a large contingent to these records of the pencil. There
is something very interesting and touching, even, in the
homage they bring to his name. He was the last great
English poet who sung to the unbroken family of the
English race. They were then all gathered around Eng
land's hearthstone, unconscious of the mighty expansion
which the near future was to develop. The population
of the whole island hardly equaled that of the State of
New York to-day.
Just below the point of diffluence, about a quarter of a
century before England put forth the first rivulet from
the river of her being and history to fill the fountain of a
new national existence in the Western Worid, Shakes
peare was at his culmination as a poet We Americans
meet him first when we trace back our histoty to its origin.

I go

KLIHU BURRITT,

NO LETTERS EXTANT.

191

He of all the masters stands in the very doorway of
" Our Old Home " to welcome us with the radiant smile
of his genius. We were Americans and Milton was an
Englishman when he began to write. We hold our right
and title in him by courtesy ; but in " Glorious Will," by
full and direct inheritance as equal coheirs of all the
wealth of his memory. Whoever classifies the signatures
on the walls of his birth-chamber, and in the large record
book brought in to supplement the exhausted writing-
space outside, will have striking proof of this American
sentiment. The first locale in all PZngland to our country
men is Stratford-upon-Avon. Westminster, even, stands
second in their estimation to the birth-and-burial place of
this one man. At no other historical point in Europe
will you find so many American names recorded as over
the spot where he was cradled. This is fitting. We have
already become numerically the largest constituency of
his fame. Already he has more readers on our continent
than on all the other continents and islands of the world •
and from decade to decade, and from century to century'
doubtless this preponderance wfll increase by the ratio of
more rapid progression.
What a race of kings, princes, knights, ladies, and
heroes was created by Shakespeare ! If the truth could
be sifted out and known, more than half the homage the
regal courts of to-day get from the spontaneous sentiment
of the public heart arises from the dignity with which he
haloed the royal brows of his monarchs. They never
knew how to talk and walk and act with the majesty that
befitted a king until he taught them. Yet, how little
personal history he made lor himself ! Not half as many
footprints of his personality can be found as his fathers
made at Stratford. This is a mystery that can have but
one reasonable explanation. It is of no use to say that

j*^-

I

his social nature was cold or cramped ; that he had not a
rather large circle of personal friends, whom he first met
and made in London, and who came from different parts
of the country. Doubtless he wrote to these and others
letters by the score. Where are they ? Where is one of
them ? We have volumes of letters centuries older than
the first he wrote brought out quite recently ; but not a
scrap of his handwriting turns up to reward the searching
hunt of his relic-explorers. It is said that only one letter
written to him has been preserved, and this is a begging
one from a Richard Quiney, who wants to borrow a sum
of money of the poet to keep his head above water in
London. I cannot conceive to what else this dense
obscurity enveloping his personal entity can be ascribed
than to the fact that the morning twilight of his fame did
not dawn upon the world untfl he had lain in his grave a
full century. In this long interval all the letters he wrote
and received doubtless shared the fate of Caesar's clay.
The greengrocers and haberdashers of that period prob
ably bought and used them for making up their parcels
of butter and mustard and articles of less dignity. All
this may be well for the great reputation the world accords
to him. It may be well that he left no handwriting in
familiar lines, no unravelled threads of his common
human nature which captious critics might follow up into
the inner recesses of his daily life, and fleck the disk of
his fair fame with the specks and motes they found in the
search after moral discrepancies.
It is a wonder that a man of such genius could have
died less than two centuries and a half ago, and have
left a character so completely shut in and barred against
" the peering littlenesses " of speering, yeflow-eyed curi
osity. A soft still blue, of a hundred years deep, sur
rounds his personal being. Through this mild cerulean

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192

ELIHU BURRITT.

haze it shows itself fair and round. Well is it for him,
perhaps, that we of to-day cannot get nearer to him than
the gentie horizon of this intervening century. It is a
seamless mantle that Providence has wrapped around the
stature of his life, in which no envious Casca can ever
make a rent to get at the frailties or small actions of a
great master. No man ever lived more hermetically in
his writings than Shakespeare. His personal being is as
completely shut up and embodied in them as Homer's is
in his grand epics. Will the life that breathes in them
prove immortal? Three centuries are not immortality.
Will the sexcentenary anniversary of his birth be cele
brated after the fashion of 1864? Through all the
changes in taste and moral and intellectual perception
that may arise in that or a shorter interval, will his genius
and his works be held at our estimate ? Was he as a poet
just what Rubens was as a painter, and will the pen of
the one and the pencil of the other be put on the same
footing and have the same chance for the admiration of
future generations ? No one can reason out the extreme
ends of these parallels, or predict the verdict of another
century with regard to these men. But the fact we have
already cited will serve as the basis of a reasonable belief
in this matter.
It must have been a full hundred years after Shakes
peare was laid down to his last sleep in the chancel of
the church in which he was baptized, before he began to
have a popular reputation, or a reading by even the edu
cated classes in England. At the end of the second
century that reputation had spread itself over the whole
civilized world, From 1623 to 1823 no writers had arisen
to eclipse or supersede his genius. In this wide interval
hundreds of authors, widely read in their day, went down
to oblivion, some to obloquy. They could not live on

HIS GROWING REPUTATION.

193.

the sea of public opinion. Now we are in the middle of
the third century of his fame. How does it rank at this
moment in the estimation of the worid ? With all the
new and brilliant literature that has flooded Christendom
within the last fifty years, has the brightness of his paled
in the contrast? Has it already gone down into the
gorgeous tombs of the Capulets, or to live only in monu
mental bookbindery with the by-gone English classics ;
to make a show of elegant gilt-backed volumes in fash
ionable bookcases as "standard works," or works for
ever to stand on their lower ends in serried and even
ranks, to be seen and not read ? Further from it than
ever before. No such lame and impotent conclusion can
be predicted from the present appreciation of his writings.
The opening years of this very decade mark a new era in
their estimation. Virtually for the first time he is being
introduced to a new world of readers, to the laboring
masses of the people. Publishers are taking him into
the cottages of the mfllion, and bespeaking a hearty and
pleasant welcome to his " Hamlet" " Othello," and aU
the other creations of his genius. Popular editions of
Shakespeare are the order of the day. For the first time
the 'common people begin to know him. Such is the
promise of 1867. What is being done in England and
America^ to familiarize the masses with his writings is
repeated 'on a smaller scale on the Continent of Europe.
Cheap editions in German and French have been put
recently in circulation. Doubtless within a half century
he will be read in every other language in Christendom.
His works never had more vitality than at the present
moment nor such a wide breathing space among men.
While looking at the dark and dense network of names
written upon the walls and windows of the room in which
Shakespeare w.as born, there was one I would have
17

194

ELIHU BURRITT.

walked a hundred miles to see. It was not Lucien Bona
parte s, nor Sir Walter Scott's, nor Burns's. nor Washing
ton Irvmg's. It was the name of the man who firft
penaled one upon the virgin plaster over the cradle-place
of the poet It would be exceedingly interesting o
know who he was, when he did it, and^'hat moved'him
headed! The whole space is covered with layers of
them, several deep. If they could all be brought to light
every square inch would reveal fifty at least The house
Wd f '^'",r '" ^°°^ ''P''*"- ^'^ ^^"^^ '^ beautifully
laid out and kept and is marked by this interesting char
acteristic : all the flowers that Shakespeare has celebrated
m his plays are here planted, watched, and tended with
the mcest care. As a reward for the dew and light his
genius shed over them two centuries and a half ago
heir sweet eyes keep vigils over his birthplace and per
fume it with their morning breath.- Walks in the Black

THE REALITY AND MISSION OF IDEAL
CHARACTERS.

Longfellow.

SHAKESPEARE ; WALTER SCOt't ; "d;;™ ' MR^y^STOWE;

In face of all the religious and moral arguments and
opposition arrayed against it for many generations, not
only the secular but the religious literature of the present
day proves incontestably that the imagination was never
before stimulated to such exuberant production. The
vety religious press, that twenty-five years ago denounced

I

f^rr

BOOKS OF FICTION.

195

" works of fiction " as demoralizing and dangerous to the
moral health of the community, now not only countenance
but publish such works as a special attraction to win new
subscribers, and to gratify the old with additional entertain
ment. Nor are these romances or fictitious tales copied
second-hand from novels or popular magazines, but are
secured original from the authors at the regular price per
line or page such writers receive for their productions.
Indeed, "the original stoty" or romance has become as
common to many of our religious newspapers as the reg
ular feuilleton to Paris journals. Perhaps it would not
exaggerate the fact to say, that four-fifths of the Sunday-
school books published in America are pure fictions, and
many of them of an order of imagination which would not
" pass muster " in professedly secular literature.
Still there would seem to be as many honest and intel
ligent minds as ever that deprecate and denounce these
works of fiction, irrespective of their teaching. They be
little that faculty of the mind that produces these works
by calling it fancy, and its exercise as a trivial and deteri
orating employment of the intellect. They complain that
these productions of the fancy create an imaginaty world,
and fill it with unreal beings and experiences, and thus
unfit the readers of them for the serious and inevitable
realities of life which they must encounter. The only
alternative to be deduced from their arguments is this,
that we must satisfy the need and pursuit of the mind for
high ideals of human character without traveling outside
the record of verified histoty or rigid fact. This bold al
ternative would, to a certain degree, destroy the best half
of the world, past present and to come. It would fetter
to the earth the noblest, the most creative faculty of the
human mind. It would paralyze the wings of faith, so
that it could not lift the soul an inch above the low level

I

196

ELIHU BURRITT.

of human life. It would paralyze the fingers of faith, so
that it could not feel the pulse of the great realities of 'the
invisible world. It would blind the vision of faith, so that
it could not discern between the glorious gates of the New
Jerusalem and the black portals of everiasting night and
annihflation. It would send the soul through its pilgrim
age on earth with its eyes and ears so full of the dust and
dirt of these battles in fiesh and blood, that it could see
none of the thrilling beatitudes that John saw, nor hear
any of the songs he heard in his apocalypse.
Let us go to a higher authority and example than the
unconsidered impression of these unthoughtful minds for
a truer conception of what this creative faculty of the hu
man mind was to do and be for the material well-being
and spiritual life and destiny of mankind. See how God,
who gave it educated, fostered, and strengthened it for
four thousand years before even his favored and peculiar
people could grasp the great fact of the immortality of the
soul. Not until this creative faculty of the mind had been
trained to the power of erecting vivid images in the invisi
ble worid, did the Saviour of mankind come in due time to
bring life and immortality to light beyond the grave. That
due time was the space of four thousand years ; and if he
had come one year sooner he would have been one year
too early for the capacity of the human mind to compre
hend and realize his great revelation.
What was Christ's view and example in regard to this
great faculty of idealism ? Why, he created a hundred
fold more fictitious personages and events than Dickens,
or Thackeray, or any other novelist ever did. We read
that he seldom spoke to the people except in parables.
And what were his parables ? They were ideals, that were
more vivid than the abstract reals of actual, human life.
They were fictions that were more truthful than facts and

.Wfr

JfWf

t

THE PRODIGAL SON.

197

more instructive. They were fictitious transactions, expe
riences, and actors ; but evety one of them had a true
human basis, or possibility of fact which carried its instruc
tion to the listener's mind with the double force of truth.
Take, for example, the Prodigal Son. Historically he
was a fiction. But to the universal and everlasting
conscience and experience of mankind, there has not been
a human son born into this world for two thousand years
endowed with such immortal life and power as that young
man. He will live for ever. He will give power,
" As long as the heart has passions.
As long as life has woes."
He will travel down all the ages, and, in living sympathy
and companionship with the saddest experiences of human
nature, he will stand at every door and lair of sin and
misery and shame ; he will stand there as he stood in his
rags, hunger, and contrition among the swine, and say to
the fallen, with his broken voice and falling tears : " I will
arise and go unto my father, and say unto him. Father, I
have sinned against heaven and in thy sight and am no
more worthy to be called thy son ; make me as one of thy
hired servants."
The good Samaritan historically was as fictitious a being
as the Prodigal Son, But what one man has lived on the
earth since he was introduced to the world who has been
worth to it the value of that ideal character ? What one
mere human being has worn actual flesh and blood for
the last two thousand years, who lives with such intense
vitality in the best memories, life impulse, and action of
this living generation as that ideal of a good neighbor ?
What brightest star in our heavens above would we hold
at higher worth than the light of his example ? For ever
and for ever, as long as men shall fall among the thieves
that beset the narrow turnings of life, or into the more
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198

ELIHU BURRITT.

perUous ambush of their

own appetites and passions,
so long the good Samaritan will seek for them with
his lantern in one hand, and his cruet of oil in the other,
and pour the healing sympathy of his loving heart into
their wounded spirits; so long wfll he walk the thorny and
stony paths of poverty, sin, and guilt ; and, with a hand
and voice soft and tender with God's love, raise the fallen,
bind up their wounds, and bring them back to the bosom
of the great salvation.
Take away these ideals from the world and what should
we have left ? How could humanity have ever been lifted
above any level on which it groped unless it could have
taken hold of something let down to it from above ? And
what was that something ? It was the divine gift of this
very creative faculty of the mind, which people nick-name
imagination. Where would civilization have been to-day
had it not been for these ideals which imagination, if you
please, has embodied in sculpture, painting, architecture,
and even in the commonest of industrial arts ? There
was a time in the history of Greece when its early settlers
almost worshiped a benefactor who first taught them to
build huts and wear clothes, instead of living in caves and
eating acorns like wild beasts. What force, then, was it
that gave the steady continuity of progress from that first
hut of wattles on Grecian soil to the magnificent Pantheon
of Athens ? It was this very God-given faculty of the
mind to bufld ideals on the low and narrow basis of actual
fact. For every ideal must have at least a feeble real for
its point of departure, otherwise it loses the vitality of
truth, it makes a clean severance from human experience,
and conveys no available instruction to the mind.
What this idealism has done in sculpture, painting, and
architecture for human forms and habitations, it has done
a hundred times more decisively in the construction of

J*^

KING DAVID.

199

jkf'

human characters. Evety mountain we see at twenty
miles distance wears the face our idealism has given to it.
All its bald and ragged rocks, its rough ravines, and river
sides, are smoothed over with the blue of the intervening
distance, untfl it looks like a great pillow of velvet so soft
that the cheek of the sky seems to indent it. Just so with
the structures of human life. There is not a historical char
acter one hundred years old that has not been smoothed
over, softened, refined, and purified by our idealism.
Take, for instance, the most impressive and valuable char.
acter to mankind that the Old Testament has handed
down to us, the King and poet David. How the blue of
twenty-five centuries has smoothed the rough crevices and
wide discrepancies of his actual human life ! He never
stands before us in his bald, historic reality. We have
created him a new and immortal being, as a companion
and counsellor in all our experiences of trial, temptation,
sin, joy, and sorrow. We have taken the living breath of
his beautiful and tender psalms, or life, and breathed it
back into a human ideal, which we call David. This ideal
is not an image of wood or stone. It is not the being
which the painter, the sculptor, or the poet creates. It is
a being warm with all the pulses of human life and sym
pathy, whose eyes beam upon our tired souls with sweet
ness and light ; who prays for us and with us, in tempta
tion and affliction ; who sings for us and with us, our songs
of joy and thanksgiving ; whose tears mingle with ours,
and are as wet as ours, when we weep, with a face as low
as his, for one as dear to us as his Absalom or the littie
infant of his affection was to him. Suppose, now, some
malignant power could and should demolish this ideal
David, and put the real, historical David, in afl the bald
ness of his actual life, before us. Suppose this living
personation of his psalms should vanish from our sight ;

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200

ELIHU BURRITT.

that the being we had created out of his own thoughts
should disappear like the baseless fabric of a vision, leav
mg behind only the bare fact on which it was built. Why,
the loss to the Christian worid would be greater than the
loss of a dozen of the brightest stars that shine in the heav
ens above. What our idealism has done to David, it has
done to all the historical beings who have ever lived and left
their impress on the worid. This creative faculty peoples
both earth and heaven with ideals. There is no height in
tiie universe which it does not reach and crown with its
impersonated conceptions. It mounts on the ladder of
St. John's vision to its uppermost round. It sees all we
saw ; it hears all we heard. It fills heaven with its living,
vivid ideals. What are the productions of all the fiction
writers of the worid compared with the ideals which any
dozen chfldren of ten years among us have created ? Why,
the boldest of us all would hardly dare to mount the
heights of their young and honest conceptions. Suppose,
for instance, we could see with their eyes the ideals of the
historical God of the Universe, as He sees them ; that we
could, as it were, photograph their impersonations of His
being ; the humanity they make Him wear j the throne
they seat Him upon ; the crown they place on His head ;
the robes they clothe Him with ¦ His heaven. His angels'
the Saviour at His side, and the spirits of the just made
perfect in the forms they give them. If we could see all
these embodiments of their conceptions, we should get a
clear view of the faculty and mission of idealism in the
highest realm of spiritual life, as well as in that general
progress and well-being of mankind which we call civil
ization. But this creative faculty of the mind does something
more than people the past and the future with its imper
sonations. It fills this living present with its human ideals,

iirw'

.skT-

IDEALISM IN HOMES.

201

which are as dear to us as " the immediate jewels " of our
souls ; dearer far than the bare human realities that belong
to our actual companionship. How cold and cruel would
fall the hand upon our hearts and homes that should drive
out of our Eden the beloved ideals that walk with us
among its flowers, and even taste with us the forbidden
fruit of its tree of knowledge of good and evil ! Why,
every day ideals marty and are given in marriage to each
other in our midst. The happiest homes on earth are the
home of living ideals ; the homes of husbands and wives,
parents and children, radiant with the idealism which one
gives to the other. There is many a poor woman, pinched
and pale with poverty, who can say, and does say, to her
half-crippled, homely, and fretful husband :
"Although you are nothing to the world.
You are all the world to me."
The very term we use to designate the qualities of the
highest beings of our faith and worship illustrates this
idealism. We speak of the attributes of such a being.
These afe the dispositions, the faculties, the heart and
mind which we attribute to one j the qualities we believe
him to possess, and which make up his character to our
honest apprehension. It is one of the happiest faculties
of the human mind that we can attribute these qualities
even to those nearest and dearest to us ; that whfle they
walk by our side through life, we can robe their real beings
with the soft velvet of our idealism, hiding all the unwel
come discrepancies and unpleasant features of bare fact
which we do not wish to see. Not one of the Christian
graces acts without some faculty of the mind put in exer
cise. And charity, that crowning virtue of them all —
" charity that beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth
all things, endureth all things ; charity that suffereth long
and is kind, and envieth not and thinketh no evil " — this,

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202

ELIHU BURRITT.

the greatest of all the graces that brighten and sweeten
the life of human society, acts more through this faculty
of idealism than through any other power of the mind.
What a wretched aggregation of human beings society
would be if they lived and moved together in the bare
bones of actual fact, unclothed upon by that soft mantle
of our idealism, which is woven in the same loom as char
ity's best robe, wherewith she covers such a multitude of
sins, blots, and specks which would otherwise be seen to
the hurt of our social happiness 1
We have, then, the clearest testimony that God could
give in nature, in revelation, and in the history of mankind,
that there is no power of the human mind through which
He works so manifestly, so irresistibly for the uplifting
and salvation of our race as this vety faculty of idealism.
Not a family or tribe of mankind has ever made one step
of progress in civilization except through the exercise of
this faculty. Not an individual soul has made its pilgrim
age on earth and reached the opened gate of the heavenly
city without the constant help of this faculty. It is the
faculty that creates for the heart and eye, and ear, and
hand of faith, a new heaven and a new earth, and peoples
both with ideals which are a hundred times more vivid,
tangible, companionable, and helpful to it than the best
realities that are found in flesh and blood. It would re
quire volumes to record the history of this great faculty ;
of its training and progress through the ages ; of the suc
cessive stages by which it has carried mankind forward on
the high road of civflization ; of the industrial and fine
arts it has produced, and of the thousand ways in which
it has worked for the glory of God and the good of man.
All the mechanical, chemical, and electrical forces now in
opciation for mankind have been developed through this
reserved force of the intellect Their histoty is the histoty

J?r^

jsr

IDEALISM.

203

of idealism brought to bear upon the pure and simple facts
of nature.
In all the m'ythologies and poetical conceptions of
Greece, Rome, and other countries in the pagan ages, we
see what characters and what characteristics made up the
beau-ideals of their conception. They represented and
deified the brute forces of humanity, the strength, courage, ,
and feats of the warrior. Their highest qualities were the
brute-force virtues, which then inspired and filled all that
the imagination of society could grasp of good and gloty.
As these qualities were to that imagination the divinest
that man could attain and fllustrate, so they supplemented
there actual, historical heroes with ideal beings who had
exhibited these qualities to a superhuman degree of power
and courage. Thus we can trace the progress of the human
mind in its conception and estimation of the moral virtues
by the character of the ideals it has created. In what are
called the classic or heroic ages, these ideals -were all of
the same cast — they all represented the same qualities.
They were all martial heroes, who fought with the gods
or against them, or were held as divine in their origin and
end. It is a peculiar feature of inspired idealism, or of the
fictitious characters wrought under the influence of divine
revelation, that they illustrate what we may call the reac
tive virtues. They exhibit the culture of the human soul ;
the training and development of its faculties of thought
and feeling and moral action to the highest perfection
that a ¦ poetical imagination can conceive. They erect
before us the structure of a human character all glorious
with truth and beauty in the highest conceivable perfection,
and say to us, " Behold the man I " Behold the model for
your own life and thoughts.
The character of Job will serve us as the highest ideal

204

ELIHU BURRITT.

which the Old Testament history gives us of that great
virtue which the soul most needs as the anchor of its
immortal hopes. It matters not when or where Job
lived, or whether he ever lived at all, as a historical per
sonage. He lives and will live for ever, as the good Sa
maritan or the Prodigal Son lives, with a vhality that
broadens and strengthens with the ages. When that
grandest and sublimest of human biographies was written,
the great virtue his character impersonated was of the
most vital value to the human soul. Patience even now,
under the unsetting sunlight of a revealed immortality, is
one of the greatest virtues a Christian can exercise. Even
on the surest anchorage of his hopes, and in the brightest
visions of his faith, there is a mystety in some of the sad
experiences he is called to endure, which almost drifts
him into the gurgling eddies of despair. But in Job we
have a human soul tried by every conceivable vicissitude
of affliction, with no anchorage within the veil to hold him
in the flood of his woes ; with no ray of revealed immor
tality to light his faith to a happy world of existence
beyond the grave. We see the quick succession of dis
asters that fafl upon his life ; the sweeping visitation of
God that crushes all his children to death in a moment ;
the destruction of all his property ; the consuming and
loathsome disease that lays him in the dust ; and, hardest
of all to bear, his fall from the respect of princes to the
contempt of beggars. We see how his faith in God is
strained to the most desperate treason as the tempest of
his afflictions blackens and beats upon hira. We wonder
if the next surge will part his anchor, and utteriy drown
him in despair. While mistaken friends reproach him
with a concealed hypocrisy that has brought down these
judgments upon him ; while his broken-spirited wife urges
him^to merit the afflictions he suffers, " to curse God and

SHAKESPEARE.

205

die " and at the moment when we fear he wfll do it we
see' him lift to heaven those plaintive eyes, half closed
with the salt clay his tears have made in the dust ; we see
him clasp those flayed and swollen hands ; we hear that
choked and broken voice saying, in the accents of a sick
child, " Tlwicgh he slay me, yet will I trust in Him."
Here, then, we have in Job one of the great ideals that
God Himself has given to us, in the sublimest language
ever written on earth since He wrote with his own fingers
on Sinai the first penned syllables of any human tongue.
Here we have a human impersonation of Patience, who
will live to the last day of our race, and write his name on
the last blank leaf of the long history of human affliction.
The psalms and songs of David, and the inspired
poetry of the Hebrew prophets, peopled the glorious fu
ture they predicted with splendid ideals, and anointed
them with holy oil for their missions on the earth. What
a halo of gloty and heavenly grace David puts around the
brow and the kingdom of Solomon, his son and successor !
What an ideal of human power and splendor, of kingly
might and Hebrew dominion, the prophets presented to
the Jewish mind in their Messiah ! And how their whole
race to this day cling to that ideal as the unrealized frui
tion of their great hope of reconstruction and glory as a
nation I
Next to the Bible in the production of sublime ideas, I
think we must rank the creations of Shakespeare. His
idealistic power swept over the whole flfe and record of
nations, clean back to the dawn of Grecian histoty. His
creative genius was not afraid to walk in its might and
courage where Horace and "Virgil bashful trod. He came ;
he saw the sublimest ideals they had erected before an
admiring world, and he was not afraid to take the originals
of their heroes and heroines and impersonate them in
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206

ELIHU BURRITT.

loftier conceptions of moral grandeur and beauty. He
taught his genius to inhale the true spirit of past ages and
nations, and to breathe the breath of each into the great
characters he constructed out of its history. He made
the heroes of the siege of Troy more Greek in mein, mind,
form, and stature, than Homer could paint them. He
made the grandest of all the Romans wAlk, speak, feel,
and act more Roman in spirit and carriage than any his
torical characters that Roman poets or historians ever
described. Like the sun, that reveals what lies hidden
under the starlight, his genius passed over the great his
torical characters of twenty centuries, and showed them
to the world radiant with qualities that never shone in
them before. Plalf " the divinity that doth hedge about
a king," kings to-day owe to Shakespeare. He did for them
what no other writer who ever lived did or could do. He
idealized them in personations of dignity which they never
realized in actual life. Never kings walked and talked
on earth with such majesty of deportment and utterance
and sentiment as his sovereigns. The crowns he set upon
their brows to this very day are brilliant with a luster that
even republics admire.
I think it is safe to say, that no other writer, before or
since his day, ever produced so many illustrations and dis
tinctive characters as Shakespeare. Whatever historical
basis he had to build upon, evety character he con
structed was a completely distinct creation. He never
reproduced it in another. Then there is hardly a human
condition, passion, or virtue which he did not embody in
some vivid impersonation. Any thoughtful man, walking
up and down the gallery of his embodiments, may write
the name of its living spirit under every one of them
Who could doubt what to write under his Macbeth, Ham
let, Richard, Lear, Falstaff, Brutus, Shylock, Portia, Jes-

jik

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SIR WALTER SCOTT.

207

sica, or Juliet ? But there is one characteristic common
to all his creations. Although he himself belonged to
the middle class of English society, he took from it none
of his heroes or heroines. These he found alone in royal
courts and in noble and gentle blood. But doubtless he
had a reason for this predilection which the writers of the
present day cannot plead. The England of which he
wrote was the England of Norman pride and dominion.
The half-despised and depressed Saxon masses had not
yet developed a middle class of any intellectual or social
stature. They only furnished the clowns, cowherds and
swineherds and supernumeraries of the drama for Shakes
peare and other writers, not only of his age but of later
times. He wrote only for the aristocracy — for that was
the only class that produced all his great characters, and
could appreciate them and reward his genius. But the
reading masses of the English-speaking race all round the
globe have arisen to the level of his grandest conceptions,
¦ to perceive and enjoy their power, truth, and beauty. The
sun of his genius has been two hundred years in coming to
its meridian ; and for the flrst time in all this period it is
now beginning to be seen in all its luster, even by the
working classes of Christendom, He put such epigram
matic force into the noblest truths and sentiments of
purity and beauty, that we often see them quoted as axioms
of Holy Writ ; and sometimes persons have ascribed to
Shakespeare some apothegm of Job, David, or Isaiah.
Coming down over a space of two hundred years to Sir
Walter Scott, we have another circle of brflliant creations,
produced by that great novelist. He wrote on the same
level as Shakespeare. He wrote of the aristocracy and
for the aristocracy, and for that very reason he was all the
more popular with classes who love to look to a rank above
their own for their ideals of heroic deeds and chivalric

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virtues. All his life long he fascinated the reading ranks
of society with such ideals, whether they were based on
historical facts, or whether the pure fictions of his genius.
In both he favored the genteel discrepancies of aristocratic
life and softened the aspect of its easy moraflties. Making
the best of its moral and social habits, he brings out his
leading figures with the glamour of a few brilliant vices, as
if it would brighten the sheen of their virtues in the eyes
of the world. And doubtless he was correct in his appre
ciation of the tastes of his age and generation. He knew
that Leicester and Marmion would be insipid characters
without the wine and relish of criminal passion, or moral
obliquity. It would be a nice and difficult question to set
tle, whether vice or virtue supplied the most attractive
characteristic of his creations. They presented both in a
popular and brilliant aspect, and made both equally gen
teel and admirable. They entertained the fashionable
publicof the age with delicious pictures of high life and
society. They were a luxury to the parior and boudoir ;
but it is very doubtful if they ever stirred ahuman sympa
thy to action to soften the rough pathways of poverty and
suffering, or moved one to any heroic deeds of charity and
benevolence to the friendless and fallen. We have no
reason to believe they ever ameliorated the discipline of a
prison or poor-house, or humanized a Draconic law, or
generated a helpful influence in behalf of the industrial
masses of the people. His characters and their life be
longed to another worid, to be regarded by the common
people as distant and inaccessible objects of admiration,
leaving no footprints for their humble feet to follow ; no
deeds which they could imitate.
A host of other brilliant writers have followed Scott in
these upper walks of social life, and hundreds probably
will imitate his example for a generation to come. They

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CHARLES DICKENS.

209

love to air their genius and build their castles on these
serene heights of aristocratic society, and to show the
lower world what ideals of romantic chivalry, of love,
purity, and patriotism royal and noble and gentle blood can
only produce. And the fact is worthy of notice, that
evety one of these writers belongs to the middle class of
society, which, they seem to imply, is too poor in manly
and womanly virtues to produce even the small and feeble
basis of fact for ideals which their genius could make
attractive to the reading world. And I think we almost
owe it as an act of justice to the titled and hereditaty
nobility and gentty thus idealized, to remember that they
themselves never belauded their own class by claiming the
monopoly of such heroes and heroines, or by describing
such characters as belonging to their own class alone.
Even Disraeli, the author of Lothair, was bom in the vety
middle class, and other writers who preceded him or
imitate him in their aristocratic characters, began their
literaty life on the same level.
We now come to a writer who was to an unexplored
world of human life what Columbus was to a new hemi
sphere of the earth. I say, unexplored in an honest sense
of appreciation. It had been superficially glanced over to
furnish low or comic actors on the stage of exalted char
acters, as foils to bring out their noble qualities in fuller
relief. But Dickens, without previous chart or example
to guide him, landed on this half-forgotten shore of human
life, and, lighted by his own experience in its hardest and
commonest walks, he presented to the world a set of char
acters out of common men, women, and children, which
have doubtless made a deeper, a more lasting and health
ful impression on the present age than all the ideals taken
from the ranks of aristocratic and titled fashion for the
last hundred years. There is no miry or thorny by- path
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ELIHU BURRITT.

of poverty, there is no lane nor afley of hard and suffering
life, in which he has not found the material and sug
gestion for some hero or heroine of minor virtue; some
living impersonation of moral courage, faith, patience,
gentleness, tenderness, love, or purity. There is no bril
liant ,nor fashionable vice, no form of hypocrisy, or un
truthful pretension ; there is no iniquity established by a
lord; no stingy habit uor hard-hearted institution; no
sham nor shameful inhumanity in private or public life, in
school-house, poor-house, or prison-house, which he has
not impersonated in his creations and shown to the world
in their most repulsive aspects. I think it is not too much
to say, that no writer of fiction ever made the public laugh
with more healthy laughter, or weep with more healthy
tears, than Charles Dickens. For he makes no one laugh
at crime, or weep for experiences that are not true and
frequent in common life. Thus he has set more of the
practical sympathies of benevolence at work than any other
novelist, living or dead. It is just as impossible to meas
ure the ameliorating influence he brought to bear upon the
spirit and discipline of prisons, poor-houses, schools, law
courts, and other institutions in Great Britain, as it is to
measure the value of a day's rain in summer on a dusty
continent. His ideals met the urgent necessities of his
age and countty. He produced them in the right order
of succession, and the public recognized in them imper
sonations of qualities and characters that were true to na
ture and common to society. His "Old Curiosity Shop "
was full of vivid ideals that seem strange ; but they were
actual, living facts merely put under the microscopic power
of his genius, which magnified but did not distort them.
Hundreds of mothers, on both sides of the Atlantic, rec
ognize tlie sweet, meek face of his little Nell in the little
daughter they had loved and lost. His Quilp was detested,

MRS. STOWE S UNCLE TOM.

211

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A

hated, and avoided in evety society. Who can tell the
worth of his Pecksniff to an age much given to shams and
pretentious seeming ? Then, what novelist ever lighted
the lower walks of common life with such helpful and
attainable ideals as his Tom Pinch, Mark Tapley, Daniel
Peggoty, his Cheap Jack, Little Dorrit Barnaby Rudge,
and other humble but brave heroes who battle with the
hard lots of common men ?
Turning to American writers, I think we must admit
that no human ideal was ever created on this continent
that so impressed the world, and, " like a blind Samson,"
so shook the pillars of our nation, as Harriet Beecher
Stowe's Uncle Tom. Miflions on both sides of the Atlan
tic saw him dying under the lash, the lacerated impersona
tion of the cruelties and degradation which slavety would
and did inflict on human beings. For a whole year long.
Uncle Tom stood up before every court in Europe, lifting
his black and furrowed visage above all the admired ideals
that the novelists of a hundred years had created. There
was scarce a reading cottage - family in England that did
not give him the first place in its tearful sympathy with
human suffering. Thus for weeks and months a rep
resentative of four millions of African slaves was raised
from his low level and placed before half of Christendom
in the very front rank of those ideal beings which the
world's best genius has created out of the actual histories
of human experience.
It may be said, to the credit of most American writers,
that, if they have not followed Dickens on the same plan
of human experience, they have not gone abroad to glean
for ideals in the glorified preserves of royal or noble blood.
They have taken their characters generally from the high
est walks of American life, though such walks are fre
quently so far removed from the observation and experi-

212

ELIHU BURRITT.

ence of common men and women that one may well won
der in what sections of American society they are to be
found. But if CZ;/ England has given a Shakespeare to the world,
to dramatize its grandest histories, and to enrich its fore
most nations with the sublime statuary of his great ideals.
New England has given, to a world as wide, a Longfellow,
as the poet of the human heart and its unwritten and un
spoken emotions and experiences. No two poets were
ever sundered by such spaces of dissimilarity. No other
two ever dropped into the world's mind thoughts so im
mortal, yet so different in their breathing force and gen
erating life. Dryden supplies the best comparison between
the great poet of human histoty and the world-beloved
poet of the human heart.
" Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
Or both divide the crown ;
Pie raised a mortal to the skies.
She drew an angel down,"
Certainly no poet ever drew more angels down to the
companionship, to the aid and comfort of common men
and women, than Longfellow. No one eyer idealized the
experiences of their hearts and lives so truthfully, ten
derly, and vividly. There is not a hope or faith that has
stayed them in the beating flood of afHiction which he has
not impersonated in some character, whose face is like
the face of a son or daughter at their own fireside. No
other poet living or dead, has shown us so many angel-
beaten paths between the here and the hereafter, and
lighted them with so many lamps all the way to the Celes
tial City. The critics and connoisseurs of scientific poetry
tell us he cannot be ranked with the masters of the art,
that he lacks nerve and force ; that he does not thunder
and lighten with mighty thoughts and grand conceptions,

LONGFELLOW.

213

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^

half hidden and half revealed. This may be true. There
is none of the majestic roll and flow of Tennyson's genius,
nor the mystic and misty touch of Browning, nor the wild,
weird strength of fancy-mad Swinburne. It is one of his
simplest poems, in title, diction, figure, and flow. But
no other poem ever written has so entered into the verj-
blood and bone of the common reading world as those fev,'
words, — " The young man said to the Psalmist" It is
safe to say that no other poem has been committed to
memory by so many thousands on both sides of the At
lantic ; no other so often quoted or referred to, or made
the text or inspiration of so many parallel thoughts ; none
that is making its way into so many languages. As an
illustration of its power to touch the universal heart of
mankind with its truth and beauty, a single incident may
suffice. A few years ago, it is said, the Secretaty of the
British Embassy at Pekin translated " The Psalm of Life "
into the common vernacular Chinese, and wrote it on the
door-posts of the building. A mandarin of high rank,
passing by, stopped to read it He was struck with its
sweetness and beauty even in such' a translation, and he
put it in the classic language of the countty and sent it to
Longfellow, written on a splendid Chinese fan.
If this were the only production of the poet it would
enshrine him for ever in its own beautiful immortality. It
can never die. Its spirit and utterance must run parallel
with the attributes of human nature in all the ages to come.
It matters not on what level of life, or in what direction a
man may shape his pilgrimage on earth, "The Psalm of
Life " will tune his hope-beats to all the steps of the jour
ney from childhood to old age. Never were simple words
voiced with such instrumental music of every cadence and
mode of expression. We hear the bugle of faith sound
the reveille over a sleeping camp. We feel our own feet

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LONGFELLOW.

215

beat time to the tread of the march, when the clarion of
honest ambition sounds loud and clear o\'er the bright
morning of radiant hope. As the day deepens with human
experience, we begin to hear the muffled drum " beating
funeral marches to the grave." We see the obstinate past
and the living present close in " the battle of life," We
hear its trumpets and the shout of its heroes. Vivid im
ages and brave voices of cheer thicken as we listen.
Every line of the poem impersonates a glorious truth.
They are all alive with human blood and loreath. First
we have the psalmist himself, who has drawn out the young
man's remonstrance. We know what manner of moralist
he is, and what he has been saying to the young man.
He is one of the old constitutional croakers, who has made
" Hervey's Meditations among the Tombs " the daily food
of his thoughts. His lips are weary with doleful Jere
miads over the shortness and vanity of life ; just as if the
now were the for ever, it would be the best heaven that
God could create for the human soul. With his long,
sallow face and warning voice, he has been pouring one
of these old ditties of grief into the young man's ears.
The young man has heard it before, as he hears it now.
The better intuitions of his own heart dictate the reply.
See how he turns the old man's mortality argument into
stimulus to brave hope, duty, and action. See how he
makes an honest human life stir the very earth with the
footsteps of its heroic endeavor, singing its songs by night
and beating its foes by day. See how he calls to young
and old to fill the heart with a great purpose, and bear it
into the strife with a faith and courage that shall never
wane nor waver. Mark how every succeeding verse of
the poem echoes with the voices of cheer and hope and
victory that come up to us out of the conflict.
Some clever critics have almost reproached Longfellow
for singing so much in the minor mode of patho.s — as if

he would dim the eyes of the reader to his lack of power
by filling them with the dew of sympathy with some sad
experience or emotion. They have even had the heart to
insinuate that there was a method in assuming this pathetic
mood. But all his poems prove that this tender senti
ment of sympathy is the spontaneous and vital breath of
his intense humanity. It pervades all his works like a
living spirit. You may feel its pulse in evety line. How
tenderly it breathes in Evangeline, in Hiawatha, in his
poems on slavery, " The Footsteps of Angels," " The
Bridge," " The Goblet of Life," " The Reaper and the
Flowers." Take his " Resignation," for example, and ask
the thousands of bereaved parents on both sides of the
Atlantic, who have dried their eyes over that poem while
sitting silent under the shadow of the great affliction,
whether they can believe that the spirit it breathes was a
mere simulated sentiment of a poet whose heart had never
been touched with the sorrow he describes. It is the
poet himself who stands in the doorway of his own dark
ened home, and, with his back to the outside world, folds
the hand of his weeping wife in his own, and speaks to
her of the dear one gone to a brighter life, leaving fresh
footprints all the way to the heavenly city. How beauti
fully and tenderly he unfolds the unbroken continuity of
existence and growth, transforming death and all the ac
cessories of the tomb into the dawning light and welcome
home of the life immortal ! What poem in the English
language of the same length is so full of varied and vivid
idealism? Mark the succession of images that runs
through every verse ; all combining their significance in
the concluding sentiment.
What his glorious apostrophe to " The Ship of State "
is to American patriots, " The Vfllage Blacksmith " is to
the great masses of the boundless commonwealth of labor.
who read or hear its brave words of hope and cheer. I

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ELIHU BURRITT.

have heard it sung to thousands of them in England, and
they would burst out in an expression of enthusiasm that
shook the building before the line was finished. They''
were sweat-faced men " with large and sinewy hands," -
who had but dim perception of artistic music, but the
^vords of the poet were more than music to their souls ;
and when he drew the picture of the patient, brave, hope
ful, self-reliant and self;standing blacksmith, they hafled
him as their highest beau-ideal of manly dignity and hero
ism. Notice how the whole description of this valiant
artisan shapes itself into the great moral contained in the
last verse.
No other living or modern poet has written on so many
different subjects as Longfellow. What " distant voices
seemed to say " to him in his woodland dreams, he has
obeyed from his first to his last song. "Afl forms of sor
row and delight " he has sung as no other poet ever sang
them. He could find in the humble life of French peas
antry in Nova Scotia a heroine in Kirtle, whose beautiful
graces will give her name and place in the heart of the
worid which Homer's Helen, Dante's Beatrice, or Tenny
son's Guinevere will never hold nor attain. He did not
need to set heaven ablaze with war and make its golden
streets resound with the tread of mailed seraphs. He did
not need to imitate the profane audacity of Milton, and
put the unsanctified speech of human thoughts into the
holy lips of God, He did not need to dramatise heaven
and hell, to interchange their history, and alternate their
dramatis personm on the same theatrical stage. No, he
found in the battle of common life heroes and heroines
more indigenous to humanity, whose faith, purity, truth,
courage, and victories will ever be dearer and nearer and
more helpful to the great, every-day worid of living men
and women than all the artistic characters in the Para
dise Lost, or Mort d' Kxt\vxx.— Canadian Monthly.

THE MISSION OF GREAT SUFFERINGS.

217

<

THE IMISSION OF GREAT SUFFERINGS IN THE
DEVELOPMENT OF INTERNATIONAL SYM
PATHY AND BENEVOLENCE.
St, Paul's Charity Sermons to Grecian in Behalf of Jew
ish Christians ; Examples of International Good Will
AND Good Works; Benevolent Associations; The Irish
Famine and its Lessons.
The sufferings that touch the hearts of nations with
international sympathy, benevolence, and benefaction
have a mission of true moral sublimity, and rank among
the foremost influences which the Universal Father of
mankind has provided for their moral culture and social
happiness. One of the first and most distinctive fruits of Chris
tianity was the production of international sympathy.
To melt a passage through the icy boundaries of national
self-hood ; to perforate them, here and there, with a duct
of kindly sentiment between peoples divided through all
their history by multifarious antipathies; to lift upon
grim bulwarks of caste-prejudice and international alien
ation that great doctrine of the Christian faith, the Uni
versal Fatherhood of 'God and the Universal Brotherhood
of Men, and to inspire in the hearts of men of different
race and tongue this feeling of oneness, rearing it up into
a capacity and habit of disinterested and broad benevo
lence, extending and working beyond limits which the
lean charities of pagan civilization never crossed, — this
was the master-work of the Christian religion operating
upon men as communities.
The great Apostle to the Gentfles set this work to the
seal and proof of his ministry. He was the first of the
missionaries of the mighty Gospel he preached, to win
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ELIHU BURRITT.

ST, PAUL S MISSION.

219

for it the first large and decisive triumph of this, its cen
tral, principle. The Greeks and Jews had the f'eeling of
nationality and ,race as intensely alive in their hearts as
any two peoples of their period. It was strong and out
spoken in the first converts to Christianity among them.
Even the disciples who had walked longest with their
Master on earth had it so vivid and invincible within
them that, just after the Pentecost, they thought it almost
contamination to eat bread with a converted Greek or
Roman. How delicately, and even adroitiy, Paul took
advantage of a season of pinching want among the Jews
to unite both grace and hunger in leveflng this partition
wall between them and the European churches ! Who
ever preached such charity sermons as he did in the
Grecian cities ? What a new expansion and vital appli
cation he gave to the doctrine in his speech to the cynical
casuists of Athens in the midst of Mars Plill ! There he
enunciated the grand generality : " God hath made of
one blood all nations of men;" and clinched the declara
tion with an apt quotation from Aratus, " one of your
own poets," But in his sermons to the Greek churches
he dwelt upon the more vital relationships of the Chris
tian faith existing between all who had received it into
their souls as a life of thought and action. He made
them see and feel that God had not only made them of
one blood, but of one spirit whatever their country, color,
and condition ; that the first distinctive fruit of that spirit
was love to the brethren of the great family circle thus
formed, and good-will to men outside of its pale. How
earnestly he sought among them these fruits of the spirit
as if they were to be the very crown jewels of his minis
try. And how like such a jewel was every gift however
small, that he elicited from the Grecian Christians
towards the relief of their Hebrew co-religionists at Jeru-

J©r

.^rr

salem ! Who can say what delight he took into his heart
with the drought of spreading, with these Gentile con
tributors, the tables of those famished, half-converted
Jewish zealots who reprove Peter for eating bread with
one of Caesar's converted captains ! The Jews ate of
this manna of foreign sympathy from Macedonia and
other Grecian districts gladly and thankfully; and, as
they ate, the scales of hereditary prejudice fell from their
eyes, and they saw what Peter saw coming down from
heaven ; they saw new visions of the life which their
faith was to beget in the world, and felt indeed that in the
great law and liberty of that faith there was neither Jew
nor Gentile, bond nor free, nor caste nor color, but all
were merged into one brotherhood.
Such a mission did the great Apostle make of a little
suffering by famine in Judea. He called forth and organ
ized the flrst expression of genuine international sympa
thy and benevolence. Monarchs and high potentates
had made magnificent presents to each other, but these
were mere exchanges of courtesy, scrupulously equal,
and merely expressions of selfishness instead of benevo
lence. But the contributions of money, food, and clothing
sent by the yo'-'j churches of Greece to their fellow
Christians in Judea were doubtless the first, as well as
the largest, tokens of good-will that any community of
common men of one country had ever given to another
of a different race and nation.
From this germ of international sympathy and benev
olence, watered • and fostered by Paul, we must leap over
the intermediate space of many centuries without the
slow process of its foliation and flowerage, or what fruits
it bore in the wide interval. It would be difficult to find
many proofs of its steadily increasing development in the
Middle Ages. Histoty has given but a scant, if any,

220

ELIHU BURRITT.

recoid of the sentiment which any great calamity in one
the t'o / 'f'""' ?°°'' '"' °^ ^^'^^-' produced' amonj
the people of another nation and language. It would
not be an easy task even to get at the^ true measr f
sympathy and practical benevolence which the earthqual^
tiiat engulfed Lisbon awakened in England, France or
Germany toward the suffering city. '
Doubtless many instances of this fellow-feeling between
the people o d fferent countries, on Occasions of grea
uffenng, might be found all the way back to the b!gim
cie^nn ?""^""f '' - P^-^'^ --ong men, but we till
cite only two or three cases that have come within the
memoty of those living, and which illustrate the growth
power, and beauty of international sympathy, and good
wiI and good works. And here I must express a rf^i^t
that we are shut up to the rather formal, legal, and un
genial term, international. It carries with it the idea of
too much governmental machinery and political structure,
and makes nations sound too much like Powers, to char
acterize the sentiment we are considering, or that feeling
called forth among the common people in one country
towards the people of another, by some great disaster or
distress. Lnterpopular would express this sentiment more
fully and truly if we could divest it of the universal sense
given to the body of the word, and attach to the whole a
meaning signifying a condition, circumstance, or senti
ment existing between the masses of the people cf two
or more countries. But for lack of a term conveying-
exclusively and fully this signification, we must use the
defective q}xs.\Aca.t[on,— international.
The first instance which we will cite of this interna
tional sympathy and good will, called forth by a great
suffering, is one perhaps quite unknown, or forgotten in
Europe. Jt will not the less serve us as an illustration
on that account.

ST. JOHNS CONFLAGRATION.

221

^

Some time in the first quarter of the present century,
a few years after the last war between Great Britain and
the United States, intelligence reached Boston that the
town of St John's, Newfoundland, had been almost
entirely burnt to ashes, and that the majority of the in
habitants were houseless, foodless, and without clothing.
It was the very dead of winter. All communication by
sea and land was suspended by snow and ice. But if
hunger can eat through stone walls, humanity can break
through ice to carry relief to the suffering. The news of
the conflagration circulated through the city. Hundreds
of men, women, and children were in sorest distress on
that remote and unfrequented island. Could a more
terrible calamity fall upon them alive than to be burnt
out of house and home in the middle of such a winter,
and in the middle of the night ? Visions of infants and
small children, of sick and aged invalids, plucked out of
the crackling flames, half-dressed, into the cutting air at
zero, came before the well-housed famflies of the city ;
and there was a search, as with lighted candles, in kitchen,
cellar, and garret for spare food and raiment and things
that would make for comfort to such sufferers. And
there was a merchant who lent his ship for the work, and
there was a hardy old sea-captain, with a brave and
manly heart in him, who volunteered to sail through the
fields of ice ; and there were poorer men, as good and
brave as he, who offered their hard hands to man the
frosted ropes on the voyage. And the ship was loaded
down with the diversified gifts of the city. Flour in
barrels and sacks, vegetables massed in the hold, grown
on a hundred New England hills, — clothing, warm and
good as new, for every human size and .form, and other
things innumerable, each conveying the language of a
kind thought from the giver, made up the lading of the
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ELIHU BURRITT.

stout ship that was to wrestie with the winter all the way
to Newfoundland. Out of Boston harbor it trod forth
to sea against the champing ice ; and hundreds came
down to the wharf to see its stiffened sails face the freez
ing wind, and the furrow its keel made between the floes.
And as she moved away heavily and slowly, their voices
surged out upon the morning air in lusty cheers, and the
master and his men swung their tarpaulins and cheered
again, like heroes going forth to battle. And battie they
did, by night and day, against flerce northeasters; and
more than one of the old salts frosted his fingers at the
frozen ropes at midnight, when the snow-storm was on.
At last they sighted from afar the half-destroyed town,
and were sighted in turn. From out of the black deso
lation — all the blacker for the unstained snow drifted up
to the outer rim of the burning's reach — the port-captain
leveled his telescope at the strange apparition. It was
not the spectre of a dream, though it looked like a ship
of snow, with masts, spars, sails, and ropes of ice, shin
ing like polished silver in the cold morning sun. Where
does it come from, and why ? were the questions of crowds
of " spectators who had caught sight of it and pressed
upon the captain with their eager queries. Was it a
pirate's craft prowling about the ice-bound coast for prey ?
It was pushing and crushing its way, yard by yard, toward
the harbor, signaling for guide and help. The port-cap.
tain's boat pushed off and worked its way towards the
strange vessel. "Ahoy, there I " shouted the man at the
bar ; "what ship is that? " "The Good Hope, from Bos
ton, with something comfortable for your burnt-out people,
sir." The pflot clambered up the slippery side of the
vessel, and thought never a pilot before him had brought
into port a ship so laden. All the walking population of
the little city came down to the wharf to see the sight, —

RELIEF TO ST. JOHNS.

223

f

and it was a goodly one to see, and a better one to feel,
to the inner heart of its meaning. Never before, prob
ably, was a whole population so deeply moved by an act
of sympathy and good-will on the part of a distant and
foreign people. The captain, with his brown cheeks blis
tered by the biting air, and his frost-bitten sailors, were
greeted with a warmth that took the frost out of their
limbs and let into their hearts the happiest sunlight that
shines outside of heaven. They were taken into the
best and kindest homes in the town, and cared for most
tenderly, until the good ship's cargo was unladen and
distributed by the authorities, among the sufferers by fire.
What in real value to mankind, were the famous Argos
and Jason's expedition, compared with the mission of
that small ship, in mid-winter, to a suffering community
of another nation ? If it had gone on the most brilliant
venture, and brought back a hundred golden fleeces, they
were dishevelled strings of tow compared with the mem
ory of the act it performed and the influences that act
set in motion. "Behold what a fire a littie matter kin-
dleth 1 " says the proverb, and says it in reference to tiie
bad feeling and mischief produced by small acts or ex
pressions of malevolence. The converse is equally true.
Behold what an area of human life is warmed and glad
dened by a small act of generous sympathy and kindness !
And what a growth of benevolent thoughts, deeds, and
dispositions comes up out of the warmth thus diffused 1
How cheaply such influences can be brought to operate
upon the hearts of sea-divided communities! For a
whole generation that single vessel-load of contributions
frora the city of Boston was held in happy and grateful
memory by the inhabitants of the Newfoundland town.
The local wants of England, America, and other
countries went on with their beneficent work of opening

224

ELIHU BURRITT.

up corresponding and permanent local fountains of phi
lanthropy in the form of benevolent associations. These
gathered in the thousand littie trickling streams of good
will from individual hearts, just as "the sun draws water"
from distant seas and distils it in vitalizing rains and
dews upon the earth. New wants, or new-found lands of
suffering, in classes or individuals, brought into existence
new benevolent associations and efforts ; and these again
added their training influences upon the public mind;
thus educating it in new dispositions and habits of sym
pathy and charity toward the suffering, of every grade of
misfortune or affliction. Once in a decade or two the
Father of all human families, great and small, brings,
upon this people or that, a dispensation that has in itself
a great mission of various ends. In the first place, it
serves as a sympathometer, by which to measure the depth
and capacity of the distributing fountains of benevolence
filled by the thousand rivulets which these phflanthropic
societies and institutions have brought together. It
proves, by palpable evidence, whether these fountains
are full enough to overflow the dividing boundaries of
nations and water the scorched land of suffering on the
other side. Then such a dispensation, generally called a
calamity by those who cannot see the bright side of its
errand in the world, not only measures the breadth and
depth of these national fountains of philanthropy, but it
actually widens and deepens them. For it is one of the
happiest and blessedest arrangements which Providence
has ordained in its government of the wide world of
human mind and heart that the most precious gifts to
mankind are increased not by saving but by giving; not
by hoarding but by outpouring. Thus the priceless foun
tain of a nation's benevolence, like that of knowledge,
or of God's grace in a good man's heart is filled by its
outlets. The more it gives out the more it has to give.

THE IRISH FAMINE.

22S

JIW

As an illustration of these characteristics of genuine
benevolence, we will take the Irish Famine in 1847.
Before Providence applied the great sympathometer to
the heart of Christendom, hundreds of benevolent socie
ties, both in England and America, had been at work
sowing, broad-cast, seeds of good-will and quick-thoughted
charity with one hand and reaping rich sheaves of phi
lanthropy with the other. And the sowing-hand scattered
more in proportion than the sickle-hand reaped, for it
sowed for the distant harvests of far-off years. So, when
the Irish Famine carae with its train of suffering^, it
came at the harvest-time of rich benevolence in both
countries. And we witnessed such an inpouring flood of
sympathy and relief, overflowing the boundaries of na
tions, as the world never saw before. Indeed, the world
would not have known what it had in its heart at the time
had it not been for the Irish Famine. The whole of
Christendom was touched to lively and generous s)mipa-
thy towards the suffering island. Gifts -came in from
neariy all latitudes and longitudes of the globe. They
were not confined to the English-speaking race thus scat
tered ; for if this had been so, it might have been said,
" it was all in the faraily," coming only from the fellow-
feeling of blood-relations. No one event of this quality
of experience, in the history of England, ever worked
out so much good for her people. It flooded the country
with a sympathy for suffering which the suns of a hund
red years of continuous prosperity could not dry up.
From palace to cottage, from prince to peasant this gen
erous sentiment flowed toward Ireland. And, what made
the beauty, power, and value of the sentiment it was not
a momentary and transient feeling, expanded in one
great impulsive effort to relieve a sudden and extraordi
nary suffering. It was not the rush of men and women

Wi.

226

ELIHU BURRITT.

if

SYMPATHY FOR IRELAND.

227

out of their comfortable homes at midnight to quench
the flames of a neighbor's dwelling, and rescue his
sleeping and helpless children from the fire. The calam
ity came slowly with its muttering sounds of warning.
Its shadow settied down gently and gradually in thicken
ing gloom upon the country. Had not the heart of the
nation been previously trained to benevolent dispositions,
this very premonition and continuity of suffering might
have bred, first familiarity, then indifference, in regard to
it. But with this preliminaty training, the people had
been prepared to meet the long distress with a stream of
munificent benevolence that ran wide, deep, and full to
the last.
Doubtiess it would be difficult to find a single family
in Great Britain, however poor, that did not send some
little gift to the help of the suffering Irish. . The British
Parliament voted millions of pounds sterling to their
relief, and many an infant school in the country villages
voted their treasured mites of copper, letting playthings
and sweetmeats " go by the board," that they might send
a few penny loaves of bread to the starving children on
the other island. And for weeks and months this disci
pline of the heart went on in its beneficent work. No
great people in Christendom were ever before put to such
a long term of schooling at once in the education of
benevolent sympathy. When the famine came to an end,
the stock of working, large-hearted, and quick-sighted
philanthropy which it called into life in Great Britain
doubtless quadrupled the amount existing before the dis
pensation. During the harvest months of the famine
there was a glorious ingathering of the sheaves of good-
wfll ; but these, rich and abundant as they were, and
above afl price, were sraall in value to mankind compared
with the wide seeding of philanthropy for future reaping,

f

JT

spread over the whole area of the empire during that
season of softening suffering. It never will be known,
until declared by the Great Father who keeps the record
of cups of cold water given for thfe love of Him, how
many thousands upon thousands of poor, sick sufferers
by disease or poverty in Great Britain and her distant
colonies have drunk and been comforted, since the Irish ,
famine, at the fountains of benevolence which it opened
up and set aflow.
But this home result of the Irish Famine, after all its
wide-reaching blessing, was not the most important and
valuable one to mankind at large. It produced another
of broader and even higher influence and worth. It
touched the hearts of outside and distant peoples to a
sentiment of their common humanity which was never
before stirred in them to such fine issues. In America
this fellow-feeling pervaded the whole population, north
and south, white and black, bond and free. It spread
from ocean to ocean, and moved to lively sympathy all
the millions who spoke the English tongue on the con
tinent The vety slaves in the south, at their rude cabin
meals at night thought and spoke of the hungry people
somewhere beyond the sea, they knew not in what direc
tion. And they came with their small gifts in their hands,
and laid them among the general contributions, each
with a heart full of kindly feeling towards the suffering.
Never was there such a rummaging in cellars, garrets,
wardrobes, and granaries in the United States, for things
that would be comfortable to the hungry and needy.
Little children, in their small ways of thinking, brought
their cherry-faced dolls with the idea that these would
speak comfort out of their bead eyes to the starving
babies of Ireland. The bags and barrels of flour, wheat
and Indian corn, the butter, cheese, and bacon sent from

228

ELIHU BURRITT.

the prairie farmers of the Western States, were marvel
ous for number and heartiness of contribution. From a
thousand pulpits, betw'een the closing prayer and the
benediction, a thousalid congregations of different creeds
were invited to lend a hand to the general charity in a
few earnest and feeling words about the Universal Fath
erhood of God, and the Universal Brotherhood of men.
The National Government and Congress were touched
by the same impulse, and ordered out of their berths two
great war ships to convey a portion of the people's offer
ings to Ireland. It was a pleasant sight to sde those
grim old frigates lay off their armor and put on the most
peaceful civilian dress that any ships ever wore abroad.
One of them was a frigate captured from the British navy
in the last war between the two countries. Its port-holes,
now showing double rows of limbered flour-barrels charged
full to their heads and hoops with the best brand of wheat
powder, once belched forth fire, smoke, and hissing bolts
of destruction in the angry pariance of battie with its
American opponent Landseeris white lamb looking into
a dove's nest in the mouth of a half-buried cannon does
not make such a good picture of Peace as he might have
made of those two frigates, washed, and shaved, and
walking, with a good-natured saflor's roll, across the
ocean, with all their huge pockets full of bacon, bread,
and cheese for the hungry Irish. Then there was another
ship that walked the sea on the same errand, which was
manned in an interesting way. It went out of Boston,
and never vessel from that or other port beat to quarters
such a crew. One of the richest merchants * of the city,
who had been a sea-captain in his middle manhood,
donned his old tarpaulin and volunteered to act as com
mander. And several sea-captains, fresh from their ser-
* Robert B. Forbes,

THE IRISH FAMINE.

229

*

vice, volunteered to serve under him as subordinate offi
cers and mates. Officers in other ships went in this
before the mast all full of the inspiration of the great
mission of benevolence. «
Now, who can measure the value to the world of this
flood of international sympathy and good-will which welled
forth from the Irish Famine ? The suns of all the years
between that and this have not exhaled nor desiccated the
fertilizing moisture which that flood left upon the lands it
overspread. Its vety sediment was a seeding of fruit-
bearing philanthropy for a future harvest time for suffering
and want, in which foreign and far-off populations should
reap blessed sheaves into their bosoms when famine, fire, or
pestilence came upon them. As a dispensation to the
great human family, it was worth half the events which
nations have gloried over for a dozen centuries. The
proverb is as true and as apposite to them as to individu
als, that it is better to go to the house of mourning than to
the house of feasting. In going, as it were, arm in arm,
each with a basket of provisions, to the famine-stricken
families of Ireland, the two great Anglo-Saxon peoples
not only acquired, and enjoyed, a new sense of their own
fraternal relationships, but saw, and feh, and fostered the
larger sentiment of the Universal brotherhood of man
kind. We shall see, as we proceed, that this is not a
mere pleasant theory, easy to construct on the basis of a
hopeful thought nor a prophecy that leaps from one
kindly act of international good-will sheer into the middle
of the millennium. We shall, perhaps, be able to count
the world-wide harvests seeded by the great suffering
called the Irish famine.
There was another result or characteristic of this famine
which deserves especial notice. It may be found in the
lessons of patience which the subjects of the suffering
20

230

ELIHU BURRITT.

,^

both learned and taught; a patience that can hardly be
^ paraUeled in history. There are many anxious sentiments
and sayings abroad, coming down from different ages and
circulating in different countries, which seem not only to
admit, but indicate certain emergencies in which the com
mon laws which regulate and protect society may be sus
pended, and even violated. War has always claimed and
enforced its exceptional code under the old rule, silent
leges inter armas ; and the common laws of the country
have always gone to the wall under this exception. One
set of these proverbs, or sayings, seems to give an almost
illimitable liberty of individual action under the sudden
pressure of a great emergency. Among these we have,
" Necessity knows no law," " Self-preservation is the first
law of nature," and other axioms coming with an authority
which few venture to question. This " first law of nature"
has been brought into many a court to justify the pro
ceedings of an individual or company of men who took
the written law of the land into their own hands under the
plea of necessity. Cases of this kind, that harrow up
one's soul to think of, have often occurred. Men have
put off in mid-ocean in a small boat from a sinking ship
with scarce food enough for three days. And when hun
ger had nearly eaten their life away, they have cast lots to
decide which should die to be eaten by his fellows. When,
with the sharpest economy of these horrible meals, hunger
gnaws again by night and day, and no help could be
descried in. the still solitudes of the boundless sea, the
terrible lot was cast again, with one consent and another
victim died for the rest without lifting a hand to ward off
the fatal blow.
A case was brought into an American court "ot many
years ago, in which the officers and crew of a small, over
crowded boat, escaping from a foundering ship, were in-

LAW OF SELF-PRESERVATION.

231

jiir

dieted for throwing overboard several o£ the terror-stricken
passengers in order to keep afloat and save the majority.
The law of self-preservation, or of inexorable necessity,
was invoked and admitted, and the sailors were set at lib
erty, and legally justified in having resorted to such terrible
means to save themselves and as many others as pos
sible. But if the law of self-preservation has been allowed to
justify even the taking of life under a certain necessity, it
has been admitted to a large license in the matter of tak
ing property in emergencies far less severe. Grave judges
in different countries, have declared from the bench that
even a convicted and imprisoned criminal, in his effort to
escape from jafl, may seize a horse or boat to help him on
his way, and yet not be indictable for stealing, because
there was no furtiis animi to be proved in the act. The
fugitive from justice, though his original crime may have
been burglary, and he a confirmed thief, yet did not take
the horse or boat to appropriate it to himself, but merely
to assist his escape, and then to be turned adrift when that
end was attained, or could be attained by other means.
Now, these sayings and notions are as familiar to the
masses as to the best educated portion of any community.
They were known to the million pinched by starvation in
Ireland. But all the authority which such traditional pre
cepts could convey did not release the consciences of the
poor, suffering multitudes from the innate sense of right,
truth, and duty. Thousands died of famine in sight of
cattle, sheep, swine, and poultry. On the way to death
they laid violent hands on no man, and on no man's prop
erty. All who witnessed the different stages of the great
calamity must have been struck with this unmurmuring,
sUent patience of the victims. As such an eye-witness, I
must bear testimony to this trait of the famishing peas-

232

ELIHU BURRITT.

0 CONNELL AND REPEAL.

233

ants. 1 spent four days in Skibbereen, the most distressed
district of Ireland. From morning till night I was out
exploring the dark habitations of hunger, and hunger's
fever, and saw sights and heard sounds of the human
voice which haunted my dreams for years afterwards. I
went thither to see and describe on the spot the condition
of the people, in the hope and belief that such a descrip
tion and appeal from an American, writing from the midst
of the misery, with low, moaning wail of famine in his ears
would tend to quicken and widen the feeling of sympathy
in the United States, and to hasten their hand of help. I
found among the famine-stricken a law written upon their
hearts, deeper and more revered than the law of self-pres
ervation, or " the first law of nature." One misty morn
ing I lifted a piece of old tarpaulin from a form lying in
a farmer's barn-yard. And there was the dead body of a
man who had lain down there and died among the farm
er's pigs and poultry, when a single chicken would have
saved his life. But they were the property of another ;
and at death's door, with sweet life pleading within him
with its thousand longings, he dared not slay and eat in
the dark the smallest of the brood to save himself from
death. The next day I saw a haggard cabin, with its damp clay
floor sunk two or three steps below the level of the earth
around. It looked like a sepulchre, roofed with turf. It
was that in very deed. A whole family had made it their
tomb. The chfldren's low, sickly wail in their straw soft
ened down into faint breathings, and then ceased. The
mother blessed death for their relief, and died by their
side, too weak to lift the youngest to breathe its last in her
arms. The father, with his last strength, crept to the
door and nafled it fast to the post and then laid down and
died at the head of the group. It was the cheapest and

•;'!

JIP

quickest grave he could make for himself and his family.
And that night sleek cattle and sheep chewed their cuds
in comfortable meditation around that sflent home of the
dead. They fed around it safe and quiet when hunger
was eating out the life from that patient human family.
That unlettered peasant father, when he heard his own
little flock bleating in the straw for bread, took no kid from
the farmer's flock without He lifted his hand against no
man's property, under the sharpest necessity that could
press a human being to such an act.
This example of patient, uncomplaining suffering in
multitudes who preferred that their own stout hands should
wither away and palsy in death, rather than lift them for
life against the property of their rich neighbors, is one of
the results embraced in the mission of the Irish famine
worthy of special notice and high estimation. One of its
political results or influences is also worthy of considera
tion. A long and stirring agitation for a repeal of the
union had preceded this momentous visitation. O'Con
nell had aroused the Irish people to an enthusiasm for
independent nationality, which nothing but the eloquence
and personal influence that inspired it could keep within
the limits of the law. Afl the Englands that had lived and
died since the great Harry's time were arraigned for the
wrongs perpetrated on Ireland, and all the injuries and in
sults they inflicted were charged upon the living England
of 1840. " Repeal ! repeal I " was the loud and vehement
cry of the Irish in all lands they inhabited, as well as on
¦ the island of their birth. How stoutly the stalwart tribune
battled for the idea, shaking the very walls of the House
of Commons with the thunder-claps of his eloquence. But
God was not in the earthquake, but in the stiUsmaU voice;
in a power that had no voice ; that passed over the land
like a midnight mist of silence. There went abroad a
20*

¦i t

234

ELIHU BURRITT.

blighting breath that did not distain the earth it penetra
ted with its poison. It fell invisibly and silently upon Ire
land's staff of life, and the staff rotted in the earth, and all
who leaned upon it for life fell to the ground helpless and
hopeless. That mysterious breathing, which stirred nei
ther leaf nor stem in its work of death, silenced the great
orator of repeal and the cry itself. While Parliament was
appropriating mfllions of pounds steriing to the relief of
the sister island, while the whole English nation was over
flowing with sympathy, and pouring in their gifts upon the
distressed districts in a flood of magnificent benevolence,
O'Connell felt in his heart that there was a union between
the two countries which a hundred Parliaments and a hun
dred political agitations could not repeal. What God had
joined together by such liens, his puny hand could not put
asunder. He felt something burning on the top of his
head like unto a coal of fire, and it mefled repeal out of
his heart, and he uttered the old cry no more.

WALK FROM LONDON TO RICHMOND.
Walk along the Thames; Growth of London; Thomson's
Seasons ; Burial-place of the Noted Poet ; His Monu
ment; Pembroke Park; Queen's Laundry; Scotchman's
Advice for America ; English Aristocracy ; Village Fair.
I commenced my walk at Kew Bridge, and followed
the Thames to Richmond by a foot-path close to the river,
and winding with its course. Grand old trees put forth
their arms over the walk all the way. Palace-like man
sions, parks, lawns, pastures, and meadows alternated on
both sides. An air of hereditary quiet almost Sabbath-

GROWTH OF LONDON.

235

like, pervaded the whole scene, as if the rushing tides of
life 'had afl set in upon the great heart of the empire,
leaving these suburban sections at low ebb. It seemed
unreal and strange to feel the pulse so low and even here,
—so near to that great center of sleepless and boundless
vitality. I passed the famous Sion House, one of the many
mansions of the Duke of Northumberland. In the great
park-pasture descending to the river two large herds of
cattle were feeding, one of the Alderney the other of the
black Scotch breed, presenting as striking a contrast as
horned animals could well make. I passed villages with
their backs to the river, with shabby out-houses stag
gering to the brink, jostiing againt each other with laps
full of rubbish.
These viUages once stood stoutiy on their town individ
uality,- and had all the feeling and aspect of what the
Germans would call Selbststdndigkeit, just as if planted
among the wolds of Yorkshire. Once they were separated
from London— and it was in the memoty's reach of that
old man under the yew there— by long stretches of wild
countty, of moor, and morass, bog and thicket and miles
of bramble and thorny gorse. It was a dangerous dis
tance to travel at night ; and even men called brave and
steady-nerved waited for company to make the journey ;
for beggars with bludgeons and masked thieves on horse
back had taken many a purse and many a human life on
that poaching-ground of prowlers. But now London is
after them with its seven-league jaws distended to their
utmost grasp, swallowing them up one after the other with
all their intervening spaces. It makes nothing of taking
in a large town whole at a single meal, with all its inde
pendent histories, associations, institutions, churches,
schools, street-names, and rural appurtenances.
In this terrible tractoration, or whale-mouth suction, the

m

236

ELIHU BURRITT.

g at city IS not wolfish in its greed. It does not masti
cate and inwardly digest the towns and villages it draws
aWe m "''''; r.'f"'"^'^'^ '"''"^ '"^° ''^^ indistinguish
able mass of bnck and mortar. It takes them in gently
-hi e they are asleep, and lets them sleep on, just as i^
nothing had happened. It lets them stand j'trwliere
they stood before, only not alone as then. It is a silent
absorption of the houseless spaces between. Before they
get their eyes well open, the cows, sheep, donkeys, and
geese are gone from those rough and furzy pastures, and
aU the once wild and breezy space is filled with the broad
streets and three-stoty bufldings of a brand-new city And
tins new city, with its army of miners and sappers, works
ts outward way in evety direction towards the distant
hills hooded with groves. It swallows up the intervening
meadows basking so gently in the sun, all smfling with
their daisies and buttercups. It climbs the green slopes,
and the rooks of the old family mansion among the trees
sound the alarm, and utter rattiing volleys of menace at
the masons and their work. Thus it has gone on for
centuries; thus it goes on now almost like a miracle
compared with former progress, London is already a
vast concrete of towns and villages, or rather a great
luminous nebula of a hundred stars, all making one Lht
yet each a local shining, and wearing its own name, and
Dccupying its own space. The suburban of one aee
oecomes the mediurban of another-the outer the inner
Now London is taking to railway traveling, there is no
telling where, or at what boundaries, it will finally brin-
up. Windsor Castle even may yet find itself surrounded
by this ebbless outflow, and occupy the same local rela
tion to the metropolis that Edinburgh Castie does to that
city. But with all this greed of growth, even to an appetite

THE RAILWAY.

237

for subterranean extension, there are certain places of
large circumference that London cannot "gobble up."
They are the parks, play-grounds, and Breathing-grounds
of the people. There they are, and there they will stand
for ever, as Daniel Webster said of two localities famous
in American history. The railway is endeavoring to poach
upon these preserves bequeathed to the million by fore
gone ages. It is working most insidiously to pare away
a slice here, to bore a passage under the surface there ;
to come up for breathing in a deep cut occasionally like a
spouting whale, and anon to tube its iron track over a
foot-path or carriage-way. No one can realize what
changes it may work in the course of these stealthy
inroads. Hyde Park itself may hear a whistle one of .these days
that shall startle the gentle equestrians of Rotten Row
and their soft-haired steeds with the sharp and unwelcome
thrill and tremor of a business age. Procul O, procul
este, profani ! from a thousand frightened voices will fail
to bar the course of the terrible hexiped of the fiety eyes.
Go he will, above ground or under ground. Where horses
of flesh and blood canter, he wfll gallop. So they wfll
have to compromise the matter^ and give him a mole-walk
a few fathoms under the green sward, with here and there
a breathing-hole in these parks. But probably their
shadows never will be less. The public mind grows more
and more jealous of any let or lessening in the enjoyment
they afford. So the surface of all these thousands of
green and wooded acres, with their artificial rivers, lakes,
and fountains, will be the inheritance of the people for
all generations.
There are more than " seven Richmonds in the fleld."
There are at least twenty or thirty towns of the name in
America, one of which will rank in history, perhaps, with

238

ELIHU BURRITT.

Troy, Londonderry, or Sebastopol. But the venerable
moti^er of all the corporate Richmonds in the worid
sitting spectacled in her arm-chair on the Thames, quiet'
composed, and placid, will always be held in kindly and
genial estimation by well-read Americans. When the
balances of human doings, and beings, and worths, and
immortalities shall be fully made up, I am inclined to
beheve that the residence and writings here of James
Thomson, that gentiest of Nature's bards, who sang the
beauty of her months and years with a life and love never
equaled before or since, will give to this old English
town the most pleasant and lasting memory it will carry
down through coming generations, even though the genial
poet of " The Seasons " shafl be known only by traditional
reputation. I would not repeat, nor recall by suggestion
the thoughts submitted on the subject of biographs in a
foregoing volume.
But of all the memories that a town or other locality
acquires and perpemates, none are so sunny, so full of
speaking life, as the great remembrance of some man the
worid venerates or admires, who was born there who
there gave birth to some thousand-tongued immortality of
thought which has sent its like-producing speech into the
souls of all subsequent generations. I stand on Rich
mond Hill, and look down on the town sloping up frora
the river. "Who are you?" "I am an American, a
New England man, of average reading, among a reading
people." " Close that red guide-book ; shut up the local
history, and teU me what you ever read at home of this
Richmond. How came you to know there was such a
place, and what are you here for ? " " Thomson's Seasons,
sir, was the flrst book of poems I ever read ; and I read
it over and over again, when I was an apprentice girded
with a leather apron. I read it by the forge-light against

THOMSON S SEASONS.

239

the forge-chimney, where I planted it, open, in the coal-
dust, and took short sips of its beauty while the iron was
heating, and the sparks going up star-ward. And Thomson
lived, and thought, and wrote here, and put Richmond in
his ' Seasons.' Can you show me the house in which
they were born and where he died ? I would see that ;
for I know of no other here mentioned in the histories the
great world reads. There may be a palace here in which
Elizabeth or some other English Queen died ; houses of
statesmen and generals of great repute in her age, or
before or after her day ; but men from a far-off country,
like me, are apt to overlook them without the microscope
of local history. So will you please show me ' Thomson's
House?'" "Yes, there it is, among the trees -by the
river." His " Seasons " were my first love among the Pleiades
of Poetry, and I went to that house by the river, as if it
were still full of his breathing presence.
It is a large and comfortable mansion, now occupied by
the venerable mother of Lord Shaftesbury, who, with the
most sensitive appreciation of the haloed memories of
the place, keeps the rooms in which the poet wrote and
died in the same aspect and condition in which he left
them. That little round table, standing on three legs,
with its ebony-black disk turned up edge-ways, was his.
By that small, shiny surface he sat by night and day, per
haps with " eyes in fine frenzy rolling " up at that old
ceiling overhead, or at the wainscoted wall, fixed at the
passing apparition of tall thoughts in the vasty sweep of
his brilliant fancy. Bending over that table-rim, some of
them he caught and photographed whole with his pen, to
be admired by future generations ; some doubtless escaped
capture, darting off from the swift-winged visions of the
mind. Who could stand in such a room, and speak in

240

ELIHU BURRITT.

MEMORIAL BY EARL OF BUCHAN.

241

de common business-voice of every-day life? or walk
w th a business step, even with the measured tread of one
pa sing up and down the galleries of art or museums of
a ura history ? That table was bequeathed to a se'van
th 1 r;V ''' ''^^"" '° ''' -^-' - --'th of golden
thoughts had been wrought out on its scanty disic It
was bought back to this room from that ser'v nt who
hrew mto the bargain, or gave, as a free-will offering o
the consecrated memory, the brass hooks on which the
poet hung his hat and cane.
1 went into_ the garden lawn, and sat down in the arbor,
by a small unique, four-footed table, of still older seerain.
on which he composed many of the sunniest pages of hts
Summer," whfle the thrush and blackbird sang their
roundelays about him. Over the roof of that arbor, and
m the trees bending their branches above it they and
heir successive generations have sung, without a break,
he same summer songs that made accompanying music to
his thoughts as he penned them down in that quiet retreat
more than a century ago. Most of the trees in the grounds
were younger than his "Summer," but there was one
grand old cedar with its long arms stayed up, like those of
Moses, over the walk. I looked at it with a reverential
admiration, for it seemed to stretch out its broad hands
over the lawn, palm downward, as if pronouncing a bene
diction on a spot so sacred to human memoty
I went to the old church, and there, alraost behind the
door,^ a plain brass tablet against the wall bore this
inscription : — In the Earth below this Tablet
are the Remains of
JAMES THOMSON,
Author of the beautiful poems 'The Se.-isons,'
and The Castle of Indolence ; '
Who died at Richmond, on the 27th day of Ai,gust, and was buried
here on the 29th. the Old Stile, 1748

I

5

J r*

The Earl of Buchan, unwilling that so good a man and sweet
a poet should be without a memorial, has denoted the
place o£ his interment for the satisfaction
cf his admirers, in the year of
our Lord 1792.
Father of Light and Life ! Thou good Supreme !
O, teach me what is good I Teach me Thyself I
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,
From every low pursuit, and feed my soul
With knowledge, conscious peace and virtue pure.
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss. — Winter.
All this is written in good, round letters in brass, and the
poet's admirers evetywhere should feel themselves in
debted to his noble friend for much satisfaction for such
a memorial. It was put up more than forty years after
the interment ; a fact which may perhaps indicate how
slowly the public mind at that period came to any admir
ing perception and appreciation of the great authors who
have enriched the literary annals of England with their
productions. "The grand old masters," of whom she
boasts with a pride the outside world envies, lay long in
unmonumented and briar-covered graves. Notice the
suggestions peeping out of the foregoing inscription. It
was put up by one who must have been very young, even
if born, when Thomson gave his poems to the world.
Nearly fifty years had elapsed since he was laid in that
grave, and no monument had been erected to his memory.
" Unwilling that so good a man and sweet a poet should
be without a memorial " any longer, the Earl of Buchan
had this erected over his last resting-place.
From the poet's I went to the " sage's seat ; " not the
one spoken of by Thomson, but the seat of one of the
living sages of England, in political erudition and experi
ence. A friend took me up into the grand old Park to
see the view from Richmond Hill. I would advise all
Americans visiting London to put this point in their pro
gramme of enjoyment without fail ; for in its way it sur-
21

242

ELIHU BURRITT.

RICHMOND PARK.

243

passes anything they will find in England. It does not
equal in extent and variety of picturesque beauty the
scenery of Belvoir Vale from Broughton Hill, nor the
view Forthward from Stirling Castie, nor that frora the
top of the Herefordshire Beacon, near Malvern ; but, for
several peculiar features, it is unique and grand. You
stand on the convex summit of a crescent ridge, stretching
out its arms as if to embrace the loveliest scene on the
Thames ; or, to say in the language of Nature, " Behold
the best picture I could make for you between its source
and the sea." You look and believe it before you leave
the view. A littie world lies before you, rounded up from
the broad-bottomed valley, and rimmed with trees of every
stature, age, and leafage. Towns, villages, church towers
and spires, mansion, park, cottage, and copse, and the
grain fields, meadow and pasture lands of a county make
the pictorial lining of this great nest. Sunny patches of
the meandering Thames, like srafles of Nature, dropped
here and there at sorae view-point of the landscape, mingle
their quiet sheen in the scenery. Then the whole is
permeated with silver threads of English history, covering
the expanse from center to circumference with a wonder
ful texture of natural beauty and human being and
interest. After looking at this scene for a few minutes, we pro
ceeded a mile or two in the Park. Passed Pembroke
Lodge, the residence of Lord John Russell, as Americans
wfll always call him, even should he become the Duke of
Bedford some day. It is partitioned off frora the great
wooded territory, and surrounded and half concealed by
a little world of shade and shrubbery of its own. It was
pleasant to think that the present helmsman of the British
Empire, who is to steer it between the Scylla and Cha
rybdis of tempest-tossed nationalities, had such a quiet

sweet-breathing retreat in which to get serenity of mind
for his arduous duties. The flowers that breathe and
bloom behind the thick tree-walls of that enclosure, the
thrush and blackbird that chirrup and whistle over the
lawn, even the pair of Alderney cows lying on their shad
ows, ruminating with peace and comfort in their eyes on
the green slopes, may have much to do with the peace of
the world in these troublous times ; carrying their influ
ences into diplomatic correspondence, and softening the
first draught of many a momentous dispatch with the
second, sober thought of a calmer mind.
As I passed before the "sage's seat" and peeped
through the thick, green shrubbety that surrounded it to
get glimpses of the flowers, the lawn, and its walks, I
could not but wish that the foreign secretaty of evety
great nation were bound or biased to write his official
letters to other powers on just such a table, under such
an arbor, and to such accompaniments of flower-life and
bird-music as Thomson had when he wrote the happiest
pages of his " Seasons." It might have saved the worid
half-a-dozen wars during the last century, if the diplomats
of Christendora had thus written their dispatches under
" the sweet influences of the Pleiades " of Nature.
Richmond Park is one of nearly a dozen belonging to
the nation which you will find on the Thames within
twenty miles or so of the Parliament House in West
minster. It is not the largest t>y any means, of the dozen ;
but it is twelve miles in circumference, only occupying the
space of an ordinary American township. It is studded
with trees, many of which are of broader beam than the
measure of their mainmasts ; oaks and elms centuries old,
with the dimensions of huge apple-trees. Two conditions
of growth seem to have contributed to this characteristic.
In the first place, they >vere all planted with abundant

>

244

ELIHU BURRITT.

THE queen's LAUNDRY.

245

verge and scope for side-wise expansion, so were not
constramed to take the American forest shape, which
was not wanted. Then the soil was cold and watety for
most of the year and hard and chapped during the rest
of It Neariy the whole surface is still in a rough state
of nature, uneven with upland hummocks, and covered
with a coarse, swampy grass. In a few years this wild
aspect will be changed.
The process of under-draining has already commenced,
and large spaces of the great enclosure have assumed a
lawn-hke evenness and verdure under this popular system
of improvement All these "woods and forests" in
England, whether belonging to the Government or to
individuals, have their respective rangers or head-shep
herds, who keep watch and ward over them, trimming
thmmng, and planting. Evety park has its feedin<^
nursery, m which young trees of evety description are
trained with care to go on guard and do duty as sentinels
for a few centuries, in place of their superannuated ances
tors. Trees that were once unknown to the rank and
file of English woods are also being incorporated with
the old veterans of the line, and show well in their new
uniforms. I saw some young hawthorn trees here which
illustrated strikingly what the coraraonest flowers may
become under the process of scientific and assiduous
cultivation. The natural flower is single-leaved and
shallow, hke our wild thorn or apple-blossom. But from
this delicate and persevering education, it had fiu'ed its
cup overflowing full of sweet and crimson leafage, so
that It was round and plump like a littie dahlia. Thus
m a few years, the English hawthorn will corae out in a
new dress, breathing out upon the air three times the
odor it could once emit and showing three times the flow
ering it once wore in Spring.

il

The next place I visited was the Queen's Laundty.
Some sensibflities too subtle and delicate to be put in the
parlance of common life made me at first hesitate to
approach " the divinity that doth hedge about a king,'
but a hundred-fold more sacredly a queen, by such a
private, back-door access to those aspects of our common
humanity and its necessities which I felt that royalty
would prefer to bar against vulgar eyes, especially the
eyes of a plain American republican like myself. It
really seemed a thing beyond the beat of my propriety to
venture near such a place, and see unabashed howthm is
the dividing line that separates between a human nature
in a diadem and another in a stove-pipe hat of a common
mortal. Had it not been for the assurance that it was
" afl right " from one of Her Majesty's loyal Ueges, I
should have approached that great lavatoty of royal linen
more bashfully and modestiy than that unformnate young
hunter in classic histoty walked into the presence of a
distinguished goddess at an inopportune moment.
The Queen's Laundty, aside from its royal pedigree
and purpose, will weU repay tiie most rigid utilitarian for
an attentive inspection. It is a large, plain building,
solid, quiet, and comfortable, with a good show of lawn
and shrubbery in front and rear. A small steam engine
supplies all the motive and heating power employed in
the process. As you see the machinety brought to bear
upon the different operations, and then call to mind the
primeval practice of the Paris washing-women, pounding
out their linen upon a stone with a wooden mallet on the
Seine, you realize, more fufly than ever before, the won
derful progress and utilization of mechanical science in
the most minute and domestic departments of human
labor. The linen of all branches of the Royal family is
sent here to be washed, from Windsor, Osborne, Buck-

21"

246

elihu burritt.

I

m 'ngham Palace, Mariborough House, and all the royal
ii residences, except Balmoral. Thirty-four persons are
constantly employed, besides the manager. They receive
from eighteen to twenty-one shillings a week. When the
[Jueen is at Windsor, twenty-four baskets, averaging 1,0
oounds each, are sent away daily, or 3600 pounds, equal to
I ton and a-half of sofld Hnen, making a heavy load for the
itoutest yoke of "the King's cattie," or of our own
American oxen. There is a mangle in operation which
s undoubtedly the most perfect and expensive machine
of the kind ever made. The bottom and upper plates
are of solid glass. The former is seven feet in length,
three feet and nine inches in width, and seven-eighths of
an inch in thickness, resting upon a slate bed. Glass
rollers were made to pass over the flnen between these
plates ; but under the heavy weight imposed upon them
they produced a friction which rendered them useless • so
wooden rollers were substituted. The machine cost
about £60, or 300 dollars.
The great table-cloths of the Royal Palaces are of pat
terns entirely original, and designed expressly for the
Queen. This constitutes the main item of their cost
which is from ^20 to ;^2S. George IV., le Grand Monarque
of English sovereigns for luxurious and florid show, had
a table-cloth designed and manufactured for his royal
guest-board which cost ^700.
On leaving the establishment the manager, a very in
telligent and dignified Scotchman, referred, with a good
deal of feeling, to the sad condition of affairs in America ;
and, in the most sincere and honest manner, advised that'
when the civU war was over, we should select some good
and trusty man and make him a king, and be like England
again. I suggested that we had no one in training for .
such a position, who would fill it with natural grace and

the Scotchman's hint.

247

>

dignity; and that if we really came to this we should
prefer Prince Alfred to any other candidate. This seemed
to touch two sensibflities in him-a personal feehng
towards the royal family he was serving in such an inti
mate capacity of usefulness, and that common sentimen
of loyalty and patriotism which fills a true Briton s heart
to the brim. He hesitated a moment as if I had put him
in a quandary between loyal affection and national ambi-
tion. To bridge the chasm between the North and the
South with a throne, and reign over the largest half of
the English-speaking race, was not a position for the
young Fince to be despised, in the mind of the canny
Scotchman. I fancied the thought of it made a track o
light across his face as it passed through his mind. But
iMvas for a moment only. The A-^^ "^ f .^'^f, ^.^f
away. He shook his head, not peremptorfly, but hesitat
ingly, as if his thought said, "It has a good look, but-
but I fear it would not do." What he really said was, I
dinna think we can spare him." It was a pleasant itt e
incident at parting, which both of us wfll be likely to
remember. 4. t ^,0=
Having visited several other places of interest, I was
tempted to an exhibition of extraordinary attraction. I
had walked up and down a good number of national and
private gaUeries, and roved admiringly through acres of
paintings and groves of statuary, including the master-
Sees of the old masters. I had admired the sublimest
Lms of man or angel ever cut in marble, or painted on
canvas, and studied the graces of these alraost divme
creations, and wondered at the artist's gift to make the
being of his hand speak for centuries, without blood or
b laA, so much human speech and life. Indeed, I had
bec^un to think that I was becoraing almost a connoisseur
in "these matters of art. I was just at that moment fresh

248

ELIHU BURRITT.

from four long visits to the collection of the Roval
Academy, m London, made up of paintings of .flT
great British artists, in which lilsize'^S rS of P L ;
and Princesses of the blood, Dukes and Duchesses and
bLr;:!^'^ ''''-' '^ '-^^ «-- -^- -^^-Lt
But I had never seen a collection of English ariston
racy m living, moving, and speaking statuafrexcint a,"
an inaccessible distance, as in the House of Z^rds a' the
prorogation of Pariiament by the Queen. A cap ta!
roThtrarndr ' '--'' ^°^ -^'^^^--^ ^^^ ^
' F^t. r ' humanity There was to be a grand
the Socidtd Fran5aise de Bienfaisance," at the Orieans
House, Twickenham iust over tb« ti, '-'rleans
Richmond M» Thames, opposite to
i< chmond. Never was a raore attractive bill of fare held
out to empt tuft-hunters, as well as raen of ben vo ent
dispositions, to an entertainment In the first nl. 11
whole aim and animus of the fete had Z 1 , ^ . '
of good-wfll and charity to a petlt^clLV f^tir
needy Frenchmen in London of everv strine of nni v ,
a te for these poor emigres. And now these were to be
sold for their benefit by French and English duchesse
nd countesses and marchionesses, and their fair dauH^^^^^^^^^^
pohshed after the simflitude of a palace." Thes br '
jantand titied ladies were to stand behind tie alls of
the bazaar and sell embroidered smoking-cans dol 7 •
creams, and cigars, perhaps a handkeri^fe f'hfn C
the brow of some plain John Smith, who mi^l t sav " a
princess wrought it me, or sold it me ;ith a srafle " '
Then the f6te was to come off at a remarkable focus of

LIVING STATUARY.

249

attraction ; or at what may be called the representative
residence of the late royal family of France, the Orleans
House, — a noble English mansion with its beautiful Eng
lish lawn, fitted up with the best grace of French taste
and art. Thus the object, the artistry, and the locale were
in themselves admirable and attractive. But these were
evidently regarded the minor features of the exhibition.
It sWas a living Loan-Court — a collection of voluntaty
contributions of living presences to make a spectacle
worth a long journey and a long purse to see. It was a
moving gallery of the dlite of two nations' aristocracies,
got up on the same basis as the Royal Academy of Paint
ings, with this difference, a fair countess came to it in all
the grace and motion of life, instead of sending her por
trait It would have been a poor compliment to such
contributors and contributions, and a poorer one stfll tc
the mere spectators, to have charged less than half a guinea
for such a sight at close quarters. They ask a shilling al
many a gallery to let you look at the mere inanimate copies
of such originals, without motion, or change of expression ;
but here the whole beauty of human life was to breathe,
and glow, and bloom, and move before you with graces
the painter could never portray on canvas. It was cheap
at half a guinea. That was the price of one of the su
perbly embossed tickets in the morning ; but it was raised
to fifteen shillings in the course of the day, in anticipation
of the additional attraction of the presence of the Prince
of Wales and his Alexandra the Dane. It was wellworth
five extra shillings to see the Royal pair to one who had
stood half a day in the ground-swell of three millions of
people on which they rode into London at their grand
entree, the loth of March, and yet had failed to get a
sight of their faces.
So, armed with the credentials of the Societe on a card

250

ELIHU BURRITT.

TITLED PERSONAGES.

251

eight inches by four, and embellished by a flourish of
French flags and trumpets, and, numbered 894, 1 made my
way on foot between lanes of people lining the road the
whole distance to the park-gate of the Orieans House.
The crowd by the road-side had really the best of the sight
after all. For the whole cortege of the aristocracy and
gentry, in splendid carriages, passed, one by one, leisurely
by them, and they could pass judgment on each party
and its equipage, and recognize the rank by the arms on
the livery of the coachmen, postillions, or footmen. In
many cases the name would circulate through the crowd
with comments and critiques, as to character and appear
ance, quite interesting.
It was really a littie elysium for such an assembly of
rank, beauty, and fashion ; and it was well fliled with
these three graces, especially with the last which embel
lished, if it did not absorb, the other two. As shows the
American or rhododendron Garden in Regent's Park in
its fullest bloom, so showed the gossamer and ethereal
flowerage of titied fashion on the delicate sweet-breathing
lawn-ground of that garden, and against the deep-green
shrubbery that surrounded it as a foil to bring out its
little glories in the best relief. And here I was, in the
midst of all this brilliant exhibition of high life, with the
full intent and purpose to look at it peer into it and
study it as a cold-blooded connoisseur of art ! When I
was hugging this preposterous delusion, it was a wonder
that I had not extemporized on my way, out of a leaf of
the Lllustrated News, or from stiffer and coarser paper,
one of those trumpet-shaped things used in galleries with
the express thought of turning it up at the face of some
beautiful countess moving before me, in order to get the
finest lines of her countenance into the best perspective.
I did intend it, and it was a profane mistake to look

at all the graceful forms I might see in this aristocratic
collection as if they were walking statuary of the purest
Parian marble, and as if the bluest veins they showed,
and all the rose and Ifly of breathing life about them,
were only a human sculptor's work 1 And I, who hardly
dared look a village school-girl in the face at twenty-one,
was going to walk stealthily around the divinest of these
forms and study it, as I would Power's Greek Slave ! It
was worse than Actaeon's sin in me, and I blushed with
the guilt of it at the first trial of the conceit ; besides, I
felt it was worse in an American than it could have been
in any one else, to go into an assemblage like that with
such a notion. It was not to be done, and I gave it up
at the first attempt. You cannot deport yourself in that
way before such presences. You cannot get into the drift
and maze of such forms and faces ; to be swept gently
hither and thither by the ebb and flow of rustiing dresses;
to look at the loveliest light of happy eyes setting features
of classic beauty all aglow in their best expression ; to
hear the musical murmur of mingled voices in cadences
of the most refined modulation ; to feel as it were the
softest breathings of human life and its most charming
mysteries making an atmosphere around you ; you cannot
see, hear, and inspire all this with the mere professional
admiration of an artist or an amateur of art. And to the
credit of my counttymen, I will believe that I am the
first American that ever atterapted it and they will be
glad I failed.
At six, there must have been at least a thousand persons
in the grounds before the river front of the Orleans House.
More than half this number represented the highest
nobility of England and France. Many members of the
family of Louis Phiflippe were present including the ven
erable queen-widow, to whom they all do an affectionate,

252

ELIHU BURRITT.

reverential, and beautiful homage, as if she filled a higher
throne to them than the one her husband lost Several
marquees fashioned after the best French taste and art
had been erected for the stafls of the bazaar, and these
presented a most brilliant exposition of fancy articles of
every possible invention. Behind these stood as fascinat-
,ing an array of saleswomen as ever performed business
, transactions in domestic manufactures over a counter. It
was a unique and interesting sight to see such delicate,
be-jewelled hands doing the minute detafls of trade with
the even tenor of trained skfll; making up parcels in
grocery paper, with a grocer's sleight of hand; making
change with quick precision ; taking in and giving out the
great heavy, ugly, English copper pennies with unfeigned
and imperturbable graciousness of manner; throwing
mto the smallest bargain the gratuity of two or three
smiles of the flrst water, and half-a-dozen words done in
a voice of the sweetest modulation, and all this while
putting out the witching mesmerism of black eyes, and
blue eyes, and eyes of every spellful influence, upon the
passing crowd, to draw in purchasers.
It was a shame to think of statuary and painting before
such a spectacle. I drove the thought out of me in a
raoraent. There stood side by side behind the stalls
French duchesses and English countesses dressed in the
most recherche style of their respective fashions, all active,
earnest and natural, not playing at it with half-disguised
affectation, but putting a heart in it with a wonderful
vivacity of interest. Occasionally, a sylph-like creature
in long, crimpled, auburn tresses, and with a voice and
look and motion that the stiffest cynic could not resist
would come out of the marquee and glide about in the
crowd with a tray or basket of fancy articles seeking pur
chasers. 0, Zephaniah Bigelow, with all your stern

PLACE DE LA CONCORDE.

253

notions of republican life, and the fresh air of your New
Plampshire hills upon your face, it would have cost you
such an effort as you never put forth to have looked
into those eyes and said " No ! " when she held out to you,
between two such fingers as you never saw before, a real
Havana for " only a shifling."
The Prince and Princess of Wales did not come to the
fete after all the intimations and anticipations of their
presence. For a full hour the walk from the great door
of the house to the principal marquee was lined on each
side by a wafl of ladies and gentiemen, a dozen deep, to
receive the royal visitors ; but they did not make their
appearance. But two or three representatives of the
English blood royal were present in the persons of the
Dowager-Duchess of Cambridge and her daughter, the
Princess Maty, who is truly a magnificent woman in the
grandest sense of stature, look, and motion. The Place
de la Concorde in Paris is embeflished with colossal female
figures in stone, representing afl the great provincial cities
of France. Each has its distinctive face and features, as
if it personated the peculiar individuality of the city whose
name it bears. No one ever puts a continent or a smaller
sub-division of the natural worid in the masculine gender.
If therefore, the great commonwealth of civilized nations
should have a common Place de la Concorde, and stud it
with statues representing each of them by a female figure
which should best embody its distinctive characteristics,
no woman in the British Empire could be found to per
sonate England so perfectly, in form and feature, and
every aspect of expression, as the Princess Mary of Cam
bridge. A sculptor, transferring as much as possible of
her to marble, could give to the impersonation only half
the actual resemblance.
Never did I see England walking in the June month of
22

254

ELIHU BURRITT.

HAM COMl^ON.

255

her maidenhood, with her round, rosy cheeks, radiant
with its light, until I saw this daughter of hers moving, a
rural, genial, laughing Juno, through those fairy-looking
groups of delicate creatures on that lawn. Poor Haw
thorne ! I am glad you were not there with your iron pen
to see it. She moved among them with a gentie and
good-humored grandeur, with a sway and a swing grace
fully proportionate to her stature, dropping down into
their faces the most genial smiles from her own. And
her face could be, seen so far and so high, with the smiles
on it, above the heads of the tallest ladies in the crowd,
that every man, woman, and child on the grounds could
see her, and did see her with admiration. An American,
fresh from his own country, would have pointed her out
in a moment, in the largest assembly of English ladies, as
Uncle John Bull's pet daughter, with the most striking
features of resemblance to him that could be given sym
metrically to a female form and face. She would fifl a
throne splendidly ; and she ought to be made the queen
of some great and growing realm at the first proper va
cancy that occurs.
The Orieans House, the residence of the Duke d'Au-
male, was thrown open to the assembly, and its halls and
galleries, and nearly the whole suite of splendid apartments
were constantiy filled with admirers of art well qualified
to appreciate the great collection of paintings and statu-
aty here arranged in the most exquisite taste. Sorae of
the master-pieces of all the schools, French, English, Ital
ian, and Spanish, were among the hundreds that lined
the walls. There were more of the paintings of Murillo
and Correggio than I had ever seen before in a private
collection. Take it afl in all, it was the most interesting reunion I
ever witnessed. As a spectacle it was worth a long

i

journey to see, even if the assembly had no oU.er -o U^e
ind end than to make a show of rank, grace, a"<i -hio-
But the whole was seasoned with such - ^--'^'f,^^^^^
benevolence and charity towards a large class of the most
sensitive of sufferers ; there was such complete sympathy
and co-operation between this French royal family and
English nobility in the effort to relieve the wantsof the
French poor in London, whatever the cause of their pov
erty or the color of their political opinions, that the tete
presented an aspect of good-will and gentie thought which
enhanced, yet surpassed, its other attractions Perhaps
that fancy article sold at one of these stalls by an Eng
lish marchioness to the venerable queen-widow of Louis
Phfllippe may have carried help and comfort to some
sick French artisan in London, who was one of the hard-
faced men in blouse that chased her royal husband from
his throne. Perhaps some of the purchases of the Prin
cess Maty fed the hungty chfldren of some proscrit of
the last French republic.
Returning to -Richmond, I shouldered my knapsack
again and made an evening walk to Kingston. On the
way I witnessed another demonstration of "Merne Eng
land " On Ham Common there was another fete cham-
pitre, of humbler pretensions, but rich and rampant in
rough fun. It was a regular village fair, looking like a
great gipsy camp. Apparently there were more than a
Ldred vans, or large covered wagons, _ drawn up m
streets, and a regiment of rustics extemporizing all kinds
of sports, and music to match on all sorts of instruments
It was all got up evidently for a big frolic, though a small
show of trade was kept up in rows of stafls or rude tables
covered with the queerest complication of articles ever
exposed for sale. These were mostiy of that description
paraded at our old-fashioned regimental musters m New

i».

256

ELIHU BURRITT.

^1

England. They were such as to tempt the eye and palate
with immediate enjoyment Confectionery of the most
fanciful shapes and gaudy coloring predominated. Ginaer
nuts, lemonade, dolls, dried herrings, tin soldiery, pipes,
cheese, and picture-books made up the main staple of
the business transactions along the line of stands facing
the road. °
It was already in the dusk of the evening, and I could
not stop to study this ancient institution of common life
in England as I could have wished. But running my eye
over It m different directions, I came to the concliision
that It was, pure and simple, one of the established merty-
makings of the countty that have come down as heirlooms
of fun and frolic from past generations ; that the trade
part of It was a mere pretence or an accident, or at best
an expedient by which one-half of tiie rustic frolickers
sought to pay their way at the expense of the other half
There was one feature of the fair I could not but notice
especially. That was the large number pf photographic
establishments on wheels posted among the vans Doubt
less they had been busy all day, doing the brown faces of
rustic beaux and belles, attitudinizing, aspecting, and try
ing, as the finest ladies and gentiemen of the land always
do, to look as unnatural as possible before that mysteri
ous blunderbuss aimed at your face and eyes loaded with
sun-hghtning. Truly the sun is becoming a painter of
the million, and dispensing a worid of cheap but truthful
artistry. The day may come when every human face in
a civilized country shall leave a duplicate behind it • and
every faithful dog and donkey in five shall do the same
Whfle yet in sight of the fair grounds, I overtook a
couple of littie boys who had spent the' day on them.
The smallest of the two was quite fagged out with the
sports he had enjoyed. He was a littie fellow scarcely

f

boy's TALK ABOUT THE FAIR.

257

'Z7, teet high, and walked in the dusty '^^^''''f'};.^
Singstep^ofaboywithb^refeet^er.^^^^^^^^^^^^
:his":.::t:Jac:^-^^^^^^^^
to' his forehead, asked me the time of day_ So ^ ^^^
with him all the way into Kingston, and he gave me tt^e
rties^description'of the day's fun, suiting the action to
the word and the word to the action, bemg an improve
rl n on Hamlet's advice, which chfldren alone might
Tave taught that unhappy philosopher. Jhe animat on
wth which he pictured the scenes at the fair m chid-
wiui wiiiv- r , J -Uj-QUp-ht into tne
hood's Saxon, was charming. He Jia^ ° f hv honest
field three ha'pennies, which he had earned by hones
little jobbings about home the previous week. He wen
with his programme all made up before-hand, and he had
S„ied i?ou't to the letter. He had spread the value o
his three ha'pennies over the whole day in even, bits of
enjoyment Two of them had gone for cakes and com
fectionery, the other for a donkey-ride; and that was
" F^on^The'fair I led them off by a question or ^o into
their every-day sports. The youngest was a lettie Izaak
Waion in'hislay, and he entered into his -ts w^th the
fish-hook with a vividness of description most interesting
As bade them good-night I could not but think what
d a min^ volumes could be made out of the thoughts and
i of^hfldren taken by a short-hand writer in theu
own language. For a whole hour these littie bare-footed
;::nitL -ook me back into the happiest years of boy^
Lod life. At an hour's distance from the bnlhant fete
TW kenham. they led me back through aU the grave
experiences of manhood, and seated me, fishing-pole m
hand by a meadow brook-bank in a New England village ;
and I was looking again witii a boy's eyes and a boy s
22*

258

ELIHU BURRITT.

heart at the httie speckled fishes sporting in the streara.
What a dewless Sahara would be the walk of life without
the companionship of chfldren I What a dull and monot
onous tune would be the best music of the worid without
the treble of children's voices! How slow and heavy
tiae pulse of human happiness without the quick-breath
ing hopes, and thoughts and loves, and faiths and fears
of children \— Walk from London to Land's End.

SOME OF THE RESULTS OF WAR.
In the development of the Heroes and Heroines of Philan
thropy; IN the production of Florence Nightingales ¦ m
THE INCREASE OF BENEVOLENCE AND CHRISTIAN SYMPATHY- IN
THE CONTRIBUTION OF SUBSTANTIAL AID; IN CHRISTIAN MIN
ISTRATION, ETC,
Take it all in all, no seed-action in modern or other
times ever germinated into such quick and widespread
production as the deed of Florence Nightingale. Armies
in afl ages have had their camp-followers in large num
bers, and generally degraded character, adding to the de
moralization of the soldier's life. Every battle-field has
had its followers, — hungry and screaming vultures above
and human harpies below, hunting the arena of slaughter
with equal keenness for the spoU, in portions for which
the two parties did not compete with each other. To see
a pure and virtuous woman walking among the wounded
and dying a thousand mfles distant from her refined and
elegant home, ministering to them with the sweetest sym
pathy of sisteriy tenderness, was a phenomenon of human
charity which the worid had not seen before. The world
had sung songs about " The Wounded Hussar," and his

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.

259

" Fair Adelaide," " Highland Laddie," and a hundred othe
real or fancy sketches, done in verse, oi-^or... s d vo
tion to her hero husband or lover on th fieldo battie^
Historv runningbacktothe earliest annals of Greece ^d
R me?^;as fuu'f such examples, andof sucb-g. Bu^
the worid had never before seen a Florence Night ng-le^
a refined and delicate woman, of high social V^^-^
foflowed the army of her countty into ar-off foreig'.^^^^^^^^^^^^
not to nurse a wounded general of noble Wood, her father
husband, or brother, but to -^-^-^^""VaJs spTead
maimed and mangled soldiers inbarrack hospi ais, spread
Wover a regiment of haggard and prostrate men the
light and dew of her loving watch and ward; moistenmg
tS?ever-burnt lips in dead hours of night with soothing
inix ures in which her own soft accents and tender words
madThe best balm ; taking up into boly charge from
Ups moving with their last utterance on earth, feeble fare-
tel words for lovedonesinfar-off English homes ; speak-
Tng words out of her eyes to poor wounded Russians, who
drank the speech of them into their inmost souls, and
fooked up into her face as if it hadbeen an angel's, as she
raLd their heads to give them draughts, or to smooth
their coarse piUows. _ ,
If any human good could be set off agamst the bloody
doings of the sword, it were almost worth a small war to
bring such an actress before the worid as Florence Night-
Se No act in modern times so took hold of the uni
versal heart as hers in the Crimean war. There was a
great opening for it in the general e-Penences of man-
lind, and it fifled the space with its life and beauty. I
absorbed into itself, and put out from itself, m loveliest
luster all that heroic romance, in the poetry of bygone
ages kad sung of woman's nature in its highest capacities
of feeling and action. This universal admiration, doubt-

26o

ELIHU BURRITT.

less, increased greatly the reproductive power of her ex
ample. Flocks of Nightingales, in a few years, were winged
and tongued for simflar missions of mercy, and their sweet
voices were songs in the night to sufferers prostrated with
similar wounds. It may be said, and some may be ungen
erous enough to say it, that they sallied forth in borrowed
plumage ; that they were more moved by Florence Night
ingale's reward of praise than by her single-hearted love
of doing good. Perhaps this amiable ambflion mingled
with the motives of many who coveted a field of similar
labor. There was many a giri of sixteen who set up in
her thought the Crimean heroine of benevolence as the
beau-ideal of .female gloty, and longed to tty her small
hand at the work. One I knew personally, whose young
maiden aspirations towered to this height. In the very
next war she would go out as a nurse. She had turned
pale, and almost fainted'at seeing a chicken kUled ; but
she was sure she could stand the sights of the camp hos
pital, and even assist the surgeon, or witness his severest
operations. The terrible civil war in America broke out,
and she saw, by accident, a man wounded in a western
city. With other and older ladies she hastened to the
spot with her spirit braced up to its best courage, to stand
the test of this actual experiment. She was even fore
most with her small botties of hartshorn and camphor.
But when she saw the pale face of the man, and his blood
oozing out slowly upon the sidewalk, her nature suc
cumbed ; she recoiled ; she ran away and hid herself from
the sight ; and in sadness and tears she gave up the long-
cherished thought of following Florence Nightingale, even
at a distance, in a work that brought her such a reward.
But the great civil war in America did not lack Florence
Nightingales of as strong and tender hearts as hers. None
ever waged saw so many of them in its train. Hundreds

GETTYSBURG.

261

-Jl^

from the best homes the countty could produce, with all the
delicate sensibilities of cultivated women, did bring them
selves to walk, with self-possessed souls, over battle
fields fresh smoking with the red carnage of thousands
scattered and bleeding over the blackened acres. Ere the
ambulances began their work, while yet the unspent balls
were rolling over the arena, these women — the veriest
giris, many of them fresh from boarding-schools, kindled
fires and made tea and gruel on the spot for the mangled
victims of the sword ; then followed them to the hospitals
and watched over them by day and night, week in,
week out, for months. When the three days' fight at
Gettysburg was over, twenty thousand young men, the
flower of both North and South, were left on the field.
The pursued and pursuing armies passed away from the
terrible scene they had made on those square mfles of
carnage, leaving between them twenty regiments prostrate
and bleeding on the earth. There, for days and nights
many of them lay, before they could all be transported to
a distant hospital. But their feeble cries did not waste
their wafl upon the midnight or mid-day air alone. Through
all these burning and chilling hours of pain, in the scorch
ing heat and pouring rain, these angels of human love and
heaven's mercy walked among them in their sweet and
gentle ministry, — a ministry which angels with wings could
hardly perform. How varied and manifold in its tender
ness I Of the most thoughtful was this, to carry about
with their cordials and restoratives pencfl and paper, to
take from the closing lips of the dying his name, town,
and State, and his last words of remembrance for loved
ones at home ; and then, closing his eyes tenderly, to write
to the distant mother, wife, or sister the feeble utterances
of the departed. And it gave a heavenly beauty to their
work, and affinity to the Divine compassions, that these

262

ELIHU BURRITT.

gentle women saw nothing but the mutilated image of a
common God stretched out upon the earth before them •
none else but the children of a common Father, and full
communicants in a comraon humanity, in whatever uni
form they lay, or whatever the color of their skin. Fed
eral and confederate, deadly enemies, foot to foot a few
hours before, now lay side by side, often with the negro
soldier between them. And the voice of the Florence
Nightingale that bent over them, was as kind in accent,
and her hand as gentle in touch, to one as the other ; and
sometiraes more delicate in tenderness to the poor negro,
as if in memory of his wrongs, and of the great inquisition
into them that Providence was thus making before the
world. Never before was the benevolence of a nation so organ
ized as that brought to bear upon the sufferings produced
by this great war. It not only grew by that upon which
it fed, but its growth was wonderfully vivified and expanded
by the very machinery of its organization. From the
central associations of the great cities, to thousands of
sewing-circles plying their needles among the hill and val
ley villages of New England, and hamlets scattered over
the prairies on both sides of the Mississippi, came the gifts
of mfllions of hearts and homes to the widely divided
armies of the North. Little girls at schools made "house
wives," which they stocked with needles, thread, and but
tons for the soldiers, each pinning to her gift a few kind
words of grateful good-will to the unknown man into whose
hands it might fall. The Sanitary Commission and the
Christian Commission made an army in themselves, fol
lowing closely the fighting forces to every field of battle,
with wagon trains loaded with clothing and comforts of
evety description, with Bibles, Testaments, and books and
publications innumerable of Christian literature.

BSN^VOLENT CONTRIBUTIONS.

263

Among other means resorted to in order to supply the
soldiers with comforts in the camp and field, as well as in
the hospital, several bazaars or fairs were held in the large
cities,* Never was a nation put under a deeper discipline
of sympathy with suffering than the United States during
p^ the civil war. Notwithstanding its duration and intensity,
it was a softening discipflne. That was a hopeful and dis
tinctive fact. The fighting of the Thirty Years' War was
crowded into four in America, and the suffering of evety
day was in proportion. But it did not harden the heart of
the nation by its severity and continuity. Up to the
last engagement, the fountains of sympathy and tender
hearted benevolence poured forth their streams with no
bated flow. The news of a great battle widened and deep
ened their current. The smallest New England village
raight fill a volume with the description of its emotions
and actions at such times. In my own, a small town in
Connecticut, I remember well a Sunday which was made
memorable to us all by one of these events. It was a
communion Sabbath, and as the different congregations
were returning from the sacramental table, the news of the
great and bloody battle of Antletam rang through the long
*A Scotch genUeman, in a very interesting little boolc entitled
"America and her Army," thus describes the first of these fairs.
After speaking of the usual fancy articles of needle- work and domes
tic manufacture, he says : " Hundreds of wagons came in with farm
¦Sf produce,— great loads of hay, tons of butter and cheese ; cows were
offered, and horses and mules. The poor man sent the poultry
which had fed by his door ; it was all he had to give. Reaping ma
chines came in, threshing machines, pumps, plows, stoves, mill-stones,
hundreds of kegs of nails, huge plates of wrought iron, hides, boots,
native wine, steam engines, coal-oil by the thousand gallons. The
loaded wagons came in long processions, toiling on from far-off coun
try places. And as these prosaic looking farmers and mechanics
plodded slowly past with their ungainly offerings, what was it that
brought tears into hundreds of eyes little used to weeping? "

264

ELIHU BURRITT.

processions. From youngest to oldest evety one knew
what such fighting meant. Thousands more of gaping
wounds were bleeding on the field. In half an hour's
space between the communion table and our own, we sat
down to the latter and picked lint for the stanching of
those new wounds. Through all that long, still Sabbath
afternoon, down into the stfller evening, that was the_ oc
cupation of nearly every family in the village. With voices
low and subdued at thought of the work, we bent over it
through those quiet hours. On the morrow, or the next,
the sad detafls would come, and then we should know who
of our lint-pickers that day would find themselves hus-
bandless, fatherless, sonless, or brotheriess.' _ _ _
There are two or three special aspects of this mission
of suffering in America,- which are worthy of thoughtful
and particular consideration, as they fllustrate strikingly
the general princii^le which we are tracing through these
varied experiences. The seeding of Florence Nightm-
..ale's work in the Crimea was vitally connected with the
great harvest of tender-hearted philanthropy m the Amer-
fcan struggle. Her example took wide and deep effec
upon the kindly susceptibflities of Amencan women, I
did not of itself breathe into their souls the living spirit of
benevolence, but guided it into the same field m which she
won the reverence and admiration of Christendom. In a
certain sense, she reproduced her kind in a hundred-fold
multiplicatio; on our continent. Hundreds of delicate
women performed in southern hospitals afl that she did at
Scutari or Balaklava. They gave themselves to the same
service, and with the same tender heart towards the suffer-
nc. And all of them had read the story of her labor of
Se, and thought of her whfle performing their own m
the same department of benevolence.
tIc same connection was evident between other efforts

THE SANITARY COMMISSION.

265

to ameliorate the physical condition of the soldiers in the
Crimea and the operations of the Sanitaty Commission
during the civil war in America, Some times there is a
connection established by disjunctive conjunctions be
tween conditions and actions, as well as in grammatical
constructions. In fact, the sanitaty lessons taught in the
Crimea were mostly adraonitoty in their instruction,
serving often as warning beacons planted on a dangerous
reef, rather than guide lights inviting to a safe and de
sired haven. The American sanitarians made the best of
them as such, and found thera invaluable, as demonstrating
what was to be avoided as well as adopted. The nation
turned them to the sarae account as England would do if
engaged in another war like that of Crimea. A large
corps of sanitary engineers was sent before the northern
armies to select healthy sites for their encampment to see
to the drainage, and make everything as safe and comfort
able as possible ; to have ample medical stores, and every
thing necessary for the sick and wounded, as near at hand
as practicable. To prevent delay, loads of these articles
were packed and set apart labelled " Stores for the next
battle ;" and ere the next battie had ceased, these wagons
appeared on the field. The efforts of this Sanitary Com
mission to prevent that dreadful plague of the soldiers,
scurvy, were unparalleled in variety, ingenuity, and success!
They put things together before the whole nation which
were never before joined in such earnest importunity and
importance. " Potatoes and onions for the whole army ! "
Vegetables, humanity, and patriotism ! were the cries they
sent forth from sea to lake, and from river to raountain. '
They urged the appeal upon the people in this wise, also,
that every barrel of potatoes was as good to the array as
a soldier, for it saved a soldier's life. It was suggested to
young ladies, who were prone to send handsoraely-wrought
2Z

266

ELIHU BURRITT.

IJ

slippers and book-marks to their lovers in the army, that
precious as such gifts were, fresh vegetables would be
greatly preferred. The people responded to these appeals
with such ship-loads and railway loads of field and garden
vegetables as were never before seen in motion in the
countty. In addition to these vast contributions, the
Commission established enormous gardens of fls own in
different parts .of the country, to ensure a steady supply.
These prodigious efforts kept scurvy from the northern
armies, and were thus instrumental in saving thousands
of lives.
Now, reverting to our old figure, this great Sanitary
Commission cropped forth from the seeding in the Crimea,
—for the seed there sown brought forth fufl thirty-fold.
The connection was most direct and evident, as wifl be
seen from the following facts : At the beginning of the
war, a great central Women's Association was formed in
New York, which expanded virtually into a national organ
ization. At the same tirae two medical associations were
formed for the benefit of the mflitaty hospitals. Delegates
from these three associations proceeded to Washington to
urge the government to appoint a commission to collect
and apply the contributions of the people, and thus organ
ize their benevolence towards the army. The vety basis
of their argument before the Secretary of War proves the
force of the English example upon their minds. " It must
be well known," they said, " that several such commis
sions followed the Crimean and Indian wars. The civil
ization and humanity of the age, and of the American
people, demand such a commission should precede our
second war of independence,— more sacred than the first.
We wish to prevent the evils which England and France
could only investigate and deplore. This war ought to be
waged in a spirit of the highest intelligence and tenderness

THE CHRISTIAN COMMISSION.

267

for the health, comfort, and safety of our troops." Such
were the origin and aim of the American Sanitaty Com
mission, and the whole nation responded most generously
to their appeals. It is estimated that the people, over
and above all they paid in national, state, and local tax
ation for the war, contributed seventy millions of dollars
for the comfort of their soldiers in the camp and field.
What the Sanitaty Commission did for the physical,
the Christian Commission did for the spiritual well-being
of the army. They constituted a small army in themselves,
and foflowed the soldiers to the vety field of battle. Be
fore the war had continued long, three thousand devoted
men had given themselves to this heroism of christian
philanthropy. Clergymen of all denominations obtained
leave of absence from their flocks to serve in this work of
love and self-sacrifice ; doctors, lawyers, merchants, and
men representing all ranks and professions, threw them
selves into it with heart and soul. The following brief
description of the service they rendered is from the
authority already quoted :
" The attack is made. Some men began to fafl. Some
are dead— smitten out of life as by a thunderbolt. Some
are wounded ; they are seen to stagger towards the rear ;
or they crawl, in the instinct of helplessness, to the poor
sheflers of log or fence ; or they lie motionless upon the
ground ; or they struggle to sit erect, because the blood
from their wounds would otherwise choke them. The
delegates go to them as soon as possible, without undue
exposure to their own lives, but often, while'the battle
rages. They minister to the wounded when they lie upon
the field. They assist in conveying them to the hospital.
Everything has to be done for the poor sufferers. They
are often filthy; their clothes are matted with mud and
gore ; the shoes have to be cut from their swollen feet.

268

ELIHU BURRITT.

They are washed and clothed . in comfortable garments ;
the surgeons are assisted to dress their wounds ; suitable
food and drinks are prepared for them. Then they speak
to the wounded and perhaps dying man about his soul.
They write his last wishes, it may be, to his friends at
home. They read and pray beside his cot, and supply
him with reading matter, if able to use it for himself. They
pour the consolation of the Gospel into the ear dulled by
the near approach of death, and they reverently close the
eyes of the dead."
The services performed by this Christian Commission
constituted one of the most remarkable incidents connected
with the war. No one can over-estimate their value in
preventing the terrible demoralization attendant upon
camp life. It has been ascertained that one-seventh of
the male members of the different Christian churches in the
northern States volunteered to serve in the army. In one
western town the pastor and flfty-one men of a single
church, "with knapsacks strapped upon their backs," went
" marching on " to the war to the tune of " Old John
Brown." Several of the leading generals were religious men, and
sometimes, as in the case of General Mitchell, the eminent
and eloquent astronomer, addressed the soldiers from the
pulpit. Commodore Foote, in absence of the chaplain,
preached a regular sermon to his command from the text,
" Let not your hearts be troubled," The Bibles, Testa
ments, and other religious books and publications distrib
uted among the soldiers were almost innumerable, and
were most gladly received. The hymn-books, containing
the old songs of Zion, endeared to them by such home
associations, were treasured as precious gifts. These
thousands of thera had sung in the choirs of quiet vfllage
churches ; and these they now sang around their camp-

EUROPEAN FEELING.

269

m

fires in spontaneous choirs, and often under the midnight
sky, while resting on their arms. During the night which
followed the battle of Shiloh, a wounded man, unable to
rise from the ground, felt impelled, with such strength as he
possessed, to sing a hymn. -Another of the wounded near
him caught up the strain, and then another, and another,
till far and wide over the field, cumbered with dead' and
dying raen, there arose a song of praise 
Now there is one particular result that may be traced
from these benevolent thoughts and labors which many
will overlook or under-estimate. It was, from the begin
ning to the end of the war, a wide-spread sentiment in
Europe that the United States made a too sacred thing
of their union, and too great a crirae of the attempt to
destroy it ; that they exaggerated its value and structure
when they regarded a blow at its life as not only high
treason of ordinary guilt, but aggravated by more wicked
ness than ever before attached to the act in the histoty of
the world. The Americans of the northern States did
and do certainly hold the animus and attempt of the
slave-holding section at that measure of crime ; as a
rebellion such as Christendom never saw before for the
magnitude of its dimensions, and the wickedness of its
object. But European Christendom has noticed this fact
with no little wonder — that holding the rebellion at this
estimate, the Americans, when victors, have not hung or
banished one of its leaders or abettors. Since the war
ended, not a drop of blood has fallen for the crime of lift
ing a hand against the life of the nation. The prisons
are already emptied of the men who originated the attack.
Now there is evety reason to believe that this lenient feel
ing towards the southern States, which pervades the North
so extensively, comes, in a large measure, from that flood
of benevolent sympathy cafled forth to alleviate the great

23'

h

2/0

ELIHU BURRITT.

sufferings caused by the war. The heart of the whole
nation even, while burning with indignation at the attempt
to destroy the union, was softened by the sentiments of
humanity and kindly charity promoted by the efforts we
have noticed.
But the almost immeasurable sufferings consequent upon
the war did not produce a great vegetation of mere seed
less or temporaty benevolence. When the last wound shall
have ceased to emit blood or tears, both the sentiment and
machinery of philanthropy set in motion during the strug
gle will hold over, and act for good thoughout the wide
world. In the next war that shall shake death and deso
lation from its raven wings upon the nations, this great
seeding of benevolence in America wfll show its repro
ductive vitality in the wake of the curse, and the same
spirit and efforts for the physical and moral well-being of
the suffering victims of the sword. Sanitaty and Chris
tian Commissions will recruit and raise their small armies
among the noble-hearted of the land, and march afield
with their Samaritan charities, dropping the healing oil of
sympathy and consolation into wounded spirits, as well as
binding up wounds that only bleed red, and yield to phys
ical curatives. Nor can, nor wfll, the mission of these great
sufferings stop here. The force of philanthropy they wifl
call forth and organize wfll not always act on the defensive
or remedial. As it gathers strength and breadth, it will
not merely follow the footsteps of war to bind up the
wounds it makes with the sword ; it will confront war,
and bar its pathway to the field of human slaughter with a
remonstrance that must check the madness of governments
or contending powers. These small angel-armies of Flor
ence Nightingales, walking with tearful eyes, and voices
soft and low, among the dying and the dead, will raise
athwart the red roadway of Mars a cross that shall over-

CHESHIRE CHEESE.

271

J©r

iitr

power the corselet, and shame it in the dust. The day will
come when those little hands, lifted against the destroyer,
shall push against his dominion and power as the angels
pushed arainst the Sodomites on the threshold of Lot.
The day will come when the great ruling forces that guide
the worid shall no longer be in the earthquake, but in the
' stfll small voice ' ; in influences that breathe, but not blow ;
that move in the whisper, but not in the whirlwind ; that
overspread the great communities of mankind like a trans
forming inspiration from above. In the day when these
softening influences shall come to their dominion and
power, a French ironclad may founder in a single tear
dimming Eugenie's eye at the thought of a threatening
war and its woes." — Mission of Great Sufferings.

THE GREAT POLITICAL CHEESE.
Cheshire, Mass,; Federalists and Democrats ; Elder Leland;
Thomas Jefferson; How the Cheese was Made; Party
Feeling; Cheese Sent to Washington ; Its Reception ; El
der Leland's Return, etc.
How few English or American readers can see or hear
the name Cheshire without thinking of the rich and golden
cheese associated with it I The mind, at the mere men
tion of the word, darts off to those great doubloons of
the daity which so distinguish the famous pastoral county
of England. So indissoluble is the association, that the
eldest daughter of the county in America, Cheshire in
Connecticut, a littie Purtain town, felt, in taking and wear
ing the name, that, next to the religious faith of its En
glish mother, it ought to do honor to her reputation as a

272

ELIHU BURRITT.

cheese-making community. And this it did. The Con
necticut Cheshire was hardly a dozen years old when it
became noted as a dairy town, and turned out cheeses
which would have done credit to Old England's Cheshire.
Nor was this all, nor the best. So fully and faithfully
did the early settlers of the place cherish this relationship
and association, that when a small colony of them pushed
their way up into the hflly interior of Massachusetts, they
not only called the town they planted and peopled there
Cheshire, but they made it more famous stfll for cheese.
One, the joint production of all the dairies in the town,
was the greatest prodigy, probably, that was ever recorded
in the histOty of mflk and its manufacture ; especially taking
the motive into consideration.
Early in the present century, to use a popular saying,
" politics ran high " in America. The nation was hardly
a dozen years old as an independent state. Its raost vital
institutions were in process of erection. There was a
sharp division of opinion between the chief architects.
One set were for buflding all the States into a rigid quad
rangle, with the national capitol in the center overshadow
ing and dominating them all. These were the " Federal
ists." The Jeffersonian buflders were for lowering the
capitol by a stoty, and for- giving the individual States
more local independence and more unrestricted sunlight
of liberty. These were called " Democrats ; '' and the
contest between the two parties waxed exceedingly fierce.
From the first a religious element was thrown into it, and
made it glow with the hottest combustion of theological
odium. Thomas Jefferson, the great democratic leader,
was charged with being an infidel of the French revolu
tionary school. Never did the " No Popety " tocsin stir
a Protestant community to deeper emotion than did this
war-cty against democrats and democracy in the New Eng-

ELDER LELAND.

273

f '
i ¦
I!

wr

land States. The Puritan pulpits thundered against
them and their chief with all the large liberty of pulpit
thunderbolts. Only elect Thomas Jefferson President of
the United States, and there would be on auto-da-fe of all
their Bibles, hymn-books, and sermons ; the altars of New
England would be demolished, and all their religious insti
tutions would be swept away by an inrushing and irresist
ible flood of French infidelity.
In the little town of Cheshire, nestling among the mid
dle hills of Massachusets, a counter voice of great power
was lifted from its pulpit against this flood of obloquy and
denunciation that rolled and roared against Jefferson and
democracy. One of the most remarkable men that ever
filled a pulpit stood up in this, and beat back the fierce
onset of this odium against the great political chief he
honored with unbounded trust and admiration. This was
Elder John Leland, one of the most extraordinary preachers
produced by those stirring times. He was a plain, blunt
man, of keen common sense, trained for action by a com
bination of extraordinary circumstances to that extent
that he could hardly be called a self-made man. His
whole reading and thinking were concentrated upon two
great books — the Bible and Human Nature. He knew
by heart every chapter and verse of these two vital vol
umes of instruction. The rude and rough energy of his
mind, which his religious faith did not soften, made him
a kind of Boanerges in the New England village in which
he was born. But these characteristics assumed a more
pronounced type under the peculiar discipline to which he
was subsequently subjected. He commenced preaching
in Virginia while still a very young man ; and it was to
him the pursuit of usefulness under difficulties, which few
ministers in civilized, and few missionaries in uncivilized
countries, ever met and overcame.

ELIHU BURRITT.

;ety in Virginia and the other slave States at the
isls morally in a kind of inchoate form, and "-the
vhites " were more ignorant and demoralized than
later period of their condition. To gather up aeon-
ion of such a motley character, esjiecially in the
md thinly-settled districts, and to fix their attention
religious truth or serious subjects of reflection, was
t arduous undertaking. At first, the young men, he
would gather together in the large, square pews in
irners of the church and commence playing cards,
screened from general observation by the high,
;n boarding of their pews. To get their ears he had
ort to very eccentric anecdotes and illustrations, in
. he managed to convey some religious instruction.
was at first a necessity became at last a habit ; and
jlpit stories, and his odd, but impressive manner of
r them, soon attracted large congregations, and made
ambus as a preacher throughout the State. He was
Y sedate man, and his grave countenance never re-
or changed expression when he was relating anec-
that melted his audience into tears, or half convulsed
with suppressed laughter. Stfll he never fefl into
wild oddities of manner or matter as distinguished
nique and unapproachable Lorenzo Dow ; but with
s eccentricities, he maintained to the last a consist-
hristian character and deportment. Indeed, he said,
ds the close of his life, that he never smiled but
in the pulpit, and the occasion was enough to justify
ht departure from the rigid rule of gravity. He was
hing on a very warm Sabbath in Virginia. The
h was situated on a large green, and the great door,
I was directly opposite the pulpit was thrown wide
to admit the air. "I saw," said he, "a man come
ering along and take a seat on the steps directly in

ELDER LELAND.

275

^gr^

-fnr

front of me. He soon fell asleep, and commenced nod
ding. A large goat that was feeding on the green took it
for a challenge, drew back, and prepared himself ; then,
coming up with great force, he struck the poor man in the
head and knocked hira alraost into the church, I then
had to stop, for it broke the thread of my arguraent, and
I could but smile, while I was recovering my equilibrium,
and the poor drunkard was scrambling out of the way of
his antagonist" Surely few clergyraen could have blamed
him for that temporary smile under the circumstances.
Such was the preacher who made an intimate acquaint
ance with Thomas Jefferson while he was in Virginia.
The great father of American democracy reciprocated the
elder's esteem, and unfolded to him his public life, and all
the principles and opinions on which he sought to base
the structure and institutions of the young public. Le
land returned to New England, and settled down as pas
tor for life in Cheshire, Massachusetts. Soon after he
commenced his ministry there, the country was shaken
from north to south, and east to west with the most vehe
ment agitation that it has ever experienced. Jeffersonian
Democracy or Hamiltonian Federalism was the question
and issue depending upon the struggle. Leland threw him
self into it with all the energy of his political convictions and
mental life. He gave the Federal preachers a Roland for
their Oliver, and more too. His pulpit shook with the
thunder of his rough and ready eloquence. Never did a ,
mesraerist so shape and control the wfll of a subject as he
did the mind of his whole congregation and parish. The
influence of his opinion and eloquence reached far out be
yond the limits of the town, and impressed thousands.
Cheshire, to a man, followed his lead, and followed his
convictions long after he ceased to lead or live. For sev
eral generations they were born and they died Democrats

276

ELIHU BURRITT.

of the Jeffersonian school. No presidential election in
America, before or since, ever evoked or represented
more antagonism. The religious element was the most
irrepressible and implacable of them all. The whole relig
ious comraunity, in New England especially, had recoiled
frora the principles and sentiments of the French revolu
tionists. Most of the New England ministers led, or
,¦ sought to lead, their congregations against the enemy that
was coming in like a flood. If the terin may be allowed,
they sandwiched the name of Jefferson between Voltaire
and Tom Paine. Democrats and infidels became equal
and interchangeable terms of opprobrium. But the Puri
tan politicians were outvoted, and Thomas Jefferson was
elected President of the United States by a large and
most jubflant majority.
No man had done more to bring about this result than
Elder John Leland, of the little hill town of Cheshire, in
Massachusetts. Besides influencing thousands of outsiders
in the same direction, he had brought up his whole con
gregation and parish to vote for the father of American
Democracy. He now resolved to set the seal of Cheshire
to the election in a way to raake the nation know there
was such a town in the Republican Israel, He had only
to propose the method to command the unanimous appro
bation and indorsement of his people. And he did pro
pose it from the pulpit to a full congregation on the Sab
bath. With a few earnest words he invited every man
and woman who owned a cow, to bring every quart of
milk given on a certain day, or all the curd it would make,
to a great cider-mill belonging to their brave townsman.
Captain John Brown, who was the first man to detect and
denounce the treachety of Benedict Arnold, in the Revo
lution. No Federal cow was allowed to contribute a drop
of milk to the offering, lest it should leaven the whole

THE HUGE CHEESE PRESS.

277

lump with a distasteful savor. It was the most glorious
day the sun ever shone upon before, or since, in Cheshire.
Its brightest beams seemed to bless the day's work. With
their best Sunday clothes, under their white tow frocks,
carae the men and boys of the town, down from the hills
and up from the valleys, with their contingents to the great
offering in pails and tubs. Mothers, wives, and all the
rosy maidens of those rural homes, came in their white
aprons and best cklico dresses, to the sound of the church
bell that cafled young and old, and rich and poor, to the
great cooperative fabrication. In farm wagons, in Sunday
wagons, and all kinds of four-wheeled and two-wheeled
vehicles, they wended their way to the general rendezvous
— all exuberant with the spirit of the occasion. It was
not only a great, glad gathering of all the people of the
town, but half of their yoked oxen and faraily horses ; and
these stepped off in the march with the animation of a
holiday. An enormous hoop had been prepared and placed upon
the bed of the • cider-press, which had been well purified
for the work, and covered with a false bottora of the purest
material. The hoop, resting on this, formed a huge
cheese-box, or segment of a cistern, and was placed imme
diately under the three powerful wooden screws which
tumed up in the massive head-block above. A committee
of arrangement met the contributors as they arrived, and
conducted them to the great, white, shallow vat, into which
they poured their proportions of curd, from the large tubs
of the well-to-do dairyman to the six-quart pafl of the poor
owner of a single cow. When the last contribution was
given in, a select committee of the raost experienced dairy
matrons of the town addressed themselves to the nice and
delicate task of mixing, flavoring, and tinting such a mass
of curd as was never brought to press before or since,
24*

278

ELIHU BURRITT.

w

But the farmers' wives of Cheshire were equal to the re
sponsibility and duty of their office. All was now ready
for the coup de grace of the operation. The signal was
given. The ponderous screws twisted themselves out from
the huge beam overhead with even thread and line. And
now the whey ran round the circular channels of the broad
bed in little foamy, bubbling rivers. The machinery
worked to a charm. The stoutest young farmers manned
the long levers. The screws creaked, and posts and beams
responded to the pressure with a sound between puff and
groan. It was a complete success. The young men, in
their shirt sleeves, with flushed and moistened faces,
rested at the levers, for they had moved them to the last
inch of their force. All the congregation, with the chil
dren in the middle, stood in a compact circle around the
great press. The June sun brightened their faces with
its most genial beams, and brought into the happiest
illumination the thoughts that beat in their hearts. Then
Elder Leland, standing upon a block of wood, and with
his deep-lined face overiooking the whole assembly, spread
out his great, toil-hardened hands, and looking steadfastly,
with open eyes, heavenward, as if to see the pathway of
his thanksgiving to God, and the return blessing on its
descent offered up the gladness and gratitude of his flock
of the one earnest mind that had inspired thera to that
day's deed, and invoked the Divine favor upon it and the
nation's leader for whora it was designed. Then followed
a service as unique and impressive as any company of
the Scotch Covenanters ever performed in their open-air
conventicles in the Highland glens. "Let us further
worship God," he said, " in a hymn suitable to the occa
sion," What the hymn was, whether it was really com
posed for the ceremony, could now hardly be ascertained.
But, as was then the custom, the elder lined it off with
his grave, sonorous voice ; that is, he read two lines at a

THE GATHERING AROUND THE CHEESE.

279

W

xx>

time, which the congregation sung ; then he gave out two
more, thus cutting up the tune into equal bits with good
breathing spaces between them. The tune was Mear,.
which was so common in New England worship that
wherever and whenever public prayer was wont to be
made, in church, school-house, or private dwelling, this
was sure to be sung. It is a sober, staid, but brave tune,
fitted for a slow march on the up-hill road of Christian
life and duty, as the good people of New England found
it in their experience.
Now, here was a scene worthy of the most graphic and
perceptive pencfl of the artist ; and no English artist
could do it to the life, unless he had actually seen with
his own eyes, or could photograph in -his own fancy, the
dress, looks, and pose of that vfllage congregation singing
that hymn around the great cheese-press of Cheshire.
The outer circle of ox-carts, farm and Sunday wagons,
the great red cattle that ruminated with half-shut eyes in
the sun, and the horses tied in long ranks to the fences —
all this background of the picture might well inspire and
employ the painter's best genius. The occasion was not
a sportful holiday. Nothing could more vividly and fully
express the vigor of political life in the heart of a town's
population. The youngest boys and girls that stood
around that cheese-press knew the whole meaning of the
demonstration, and had known it for six months and
more. The earnest political discussion had run from the
church steps to the hearth-stone of every house, however
humble, up and down those hills and valleys. The boys
at their winter school had taken sides to sharpen the war
fare, although they all went with the elder and their par
ents in opinion. They shortened the appellations of the
two political parties, and resolved themselves into Dems
and Feds, though the most high-spirited boys were vety
loth to take the obnoxious name of Feds, even as a

AV

28o

ELIHU BURRITT.

make-believe. For two or three winter months at school,
they had erected snow forts, and mounted upon their
white walls the opponent flags of the two parties. From
these they had sallied out into pitched battie. Many a
young Fed and Dem had been brought down, or had
the breath beaten out of his body in the cross fire of snow-
bafls, some of which had been dipped in water and frozen
to ice in the preceding night Amid shouts and jeers,
and garments rolled in snow, the vfllage youngsters had
fought these political battles from day to day, and week
to week ; and now they stood around the press with their
parents and elder brothers, with as clear a perception
and with as deep an interest as the best-read politicians
of the town could have and feel in the demonstration.
Such was the congregation in the midst of which Elder
John Leland stood up and dedicated to the great political
chief, Thomas Jefferson, President of the United States,
the greatest cheese ever put to press in the New Worid or
the Old. He then dismissed his flock with the benedic
tion, with as solemn an air as if they had been laying
the foundation of a church ; and they all filed away to
their homes as decorously and thoughtfully as if they had
attended religious service.
When the cheese was well dried and ready for use, it
weighed sixteen hundred pounds. It could not be safely
conveyed on wheels to its destination. About the middle
of the following winter, when there was a good depth of
snow all over the countty, the great Cheshire was placed
on a sleigh, and Elder Leland was commissioned to take
the reins and drive it all the way to Washington. The
distance was full five hundred miles, requiring a journey
of three weeks. The news of this political testimonial
had spread far and wide, and the elder was hailed with
varying acclamations in the towns through which he
passed, especially in those where he put up for the night

,!!r

t

.^>

PRESENTATION TO PRESIDENT JEFFERSON. 28 1
The Federals squibbed him, of course, with their sat
irical witticisms ; but they caught a Tartar in the elder,
who was more than a match for them in that line of
humor. Arriving at Washington, he proceeded immediately to
the White House, and presented his people's gift to Pres
ident Jefferson, in a speech which the elder only could
make. He gave him some of the detafls of the battle
they had fought for his election and reputation; how
they had defended him from the odium and malicious
slanders of the Puritans, and how they all, old and
young, gloried in his triumph. He presented the cheese
to hira as a token of their profound respect, as their seal-
manual to the popular ratification of his election. It was
the unanimous and co-operative production of the demo
crats of Cheshire, and evety cow belonging to the party
had contributed to it.
The President responded with deep and earnest feeling
to this remarkable gift coming from the heart of a New
England population ; receiving it as a token of his fidel
ity to the equal and inalienable rights of individual men
and States. This portion of his speech has been pre
served : " I will cause this auspicious event to be placed
upon the records of our nation, and it will ever shine
amid its glorious archives. I shall ever esteem it among
the most happy incidents of my life. And now, my much
respected, reverend friend, I will, by the consent and in
the presence of my most honored council, have.this cheese
cut, and you will take back with you a portion of it with
my hearty thanks, and present it to your people, that they
may all have a taste. Tell them never to falter in the
principles they have so nobly defended. They have suc
cessfully come to the rescue of our beloved countty in
the time of her great peril. I wish them health and'
24*

282

ELIHU BURRITT.

prosperity, and may mflk in great abundance never cease
to flow to the latest posterity."
The steward of the President passed a long, glittering
knife through the cheese, and cut out a deep and golden
wedge in the presence of Mr. Jefferson, the heads of the
department foreign ministers, and many other eminent
personages. It was of a most beautiful annatto color, a
little variegated in appearance, owing to the great variety
of curds composing it ; and as it was served up to the
company with bread, all complimented it for its richness,
flavor, and tint ; and it was considered the most perfect
specimen of cheese ever exhibited at the White House.
The elder was introduced to all the members of the dis
tinguished party, who warmly testified their admiration of
such a token of regard to the chief magistrate of the
nation from him and his people.
Having thus accomplished his interesting mission. El
der Leland set out on his return journey to Massachu
setts. The great cheese and its reception had already
become noised abroad, and he made a kind of triumphal
march all the way back to Cheshire. On reaching home,
there was another meeting, hardly second in attendance
and interest to that around Captain Brown's cider-mill in
the summer. The elder recounted to his parishioners afl
the incidents of his reception, and presented to them the
thanks of the President. Then they all partook of the
great yellow wedge of their cheese, which they ate with
double reli_sh as the President's gift to them, as well as
theirs to him. Thus the little hill town of Cheshire rati
fied, signed, and sealed the election of Thomas Jefferson,
who has been called justly the Father of American De
mocracy. It was a seal worthy the intelligence, patriot
ism, and industry of a New England daity town, and one
which its successive generations will speak of with just
pride and congratulations.

:^

THE FARMER A UTILITARIAN.

283

THE DIGNITY AND COMFORT OF THE FARMER'S
LIFE.
The Farmer a Utilitarian ; His Pleasures and his Personal
Comforts; Poetic and Patriotic Tendencies of His Occupa
tion ; His Reading, etc.
Persons in certain professions or businesses are full of
what the French call esprit de corps. They pride them
selves on the dignity of their occupation. There is the
banker : see with what self-complacency and self-estima
tion he stands behind the cashier's counter, or in the
director's chair, and decides, like a grave judge, upon the
value and discountability of that I O U, handed over with
timorous deference and trembling expectancy by a small
trader, manufacturer, or farmer. With what a grade-dis
pensing air the money is counted out to the applicant as .
if the ten or twelye per cent, per annum interest charged
him did not diminish his debt of humble gratitude for such
a dispensation I There are the three grades of merchants,
—the Importer, the Factor, and Retailen Every mother's
son of them is full of the spirit of his order, and prides
himself on the rank of his position. In all countries, an
aristocratic vein runs through the sentiment of their pro
fession. In the aristocracy of trade, the Importers are
the Dukes, the Wholesale Dealers the Earls, and the Re
tailers the Baronets of the order. You wifl find traces of
this sentiment in the smallest log-cabin grocety in Ne
braska, as well as in the largest marble-palace warehouse
in New York.
Now, I am not going to find fault with this animating
sense of dignity which pervades the classes we have no
ticed. But I would say, in the fullest assurance of belief,
that no class of men on earth have a better right to dis-

1'

284

ELIHU BURRITT.

THE plow's LANDSCAPE PAINTING.

285

tinctive esprit de corps, or to an elevating sense of the dig
nity of their occupation, than the owners and tillers of the
soil. To say that, humanly speaking, they stand at the
fountain-head of all sustenance for man and beast, that
they are the bankers God has chosen for discounting food
and the raw materials of raiment and shelter to all the
millions of His children upon earth, may sound like an
old and hackneyed truism. To say that the productions
of their industry constitute the prime values of the world's
wealth, and that, without them, diamonds would be of no
more worth than common pebbles, would be tp run into
questions of political economy, and it would not be proper
to run in that direction on this occasion. But there is a
sentiment that well becomes the honest, intelligent, and
industrious farmer; not an idle pride of order, but a grate
ful and gladdening appreciation of the dignity of his occu
pation, of its elevating tendencies and surroundings.
There are but three poets in the family of man, using
the term in its literal Greek significance, or that which
conveys the idea of creating. If the intelligent, cultivated
farmer is not the first, he is not the last of the trio. What
the word-poet does with the spoken language of thought,
the farmer does with the physical syllables of creation, or
its green acres given to man. Take the grandest epic of
any language or age, and place it side by side with the
rreat agricultural poem of the Araerican continent ; con-
.rast the prose material of the one with the prose material
jf the other ; take the elements that Homer found
'eady prepared for his pen, and those the American farmer
¦'ound ready for his plow, and then compare the merits of
;he two superstructures, and say which of the two epic
poems should rank first in huraan estimation. The painter
is a poet, in its literal signification, because he can create
as well as imitate a landscape. But what he can do to can-

m-

vas with his pencil, the farmer can do on the broad earth
with his plow. The best colors of the rainbow, the softest,
choicest dews that corae down out of heaven, sunbeams,
moonbeams, and starbeams, and balmy south blowings,
summer showers and lightnings, come and commingle on
his easel of themselves, and make a picture of his corn
fields which the painter, with his oils and chemical prep
arations, cannot rival.
Look at Old England. There is landscape-painting for
you that wifl beat Landseer's " all hollow," the painting
of the plow, done whh artistic touches of exquisite beauty.
Look at that hill, declining so gently into the meadow,
with its grass so green, soft, and silky, that the great pied
cows are mirrored in it more distinctly than in water.
What was that hill three centuries ago ? What was it be
fore the artistty of the farmer's broad hand touched it
with his tofl ? Covered with coarse brakes or briers,
doubtless the lair of reptiles and noisome vermin. Is it
not 3. painting no'ff, of as fine order of genius as ever hung
in a royal gallery ? See those green hedges running over
it, from base to base, breathing and blooming with sweet-
brier blossoms and hawthorn flowers. See the grouping
and contrast of colors, of light and shade, which those
fields present There is one of wheat yeflo\ring to har
vest. How the vivid greenness of the oat-field adjoining
contrasts with it ! Next comes one in fallow, with its lake-
colored furrows lying as even and as straight as if turned
by machinety. Then comes a field of barley, followed by
one of English beans all in their gorgeous flower, looking
like a little Eden oi forget-me-nots ; then the meadow, with
its tall grass so thick, soft, and green. Every one of these
fields, surrounded by its hawthorn hedge, looks like a
framed landscape-painting, hung against that hill by an
artist in a way to make the whole a gallery of living pic-

286

ELIHU BURRITT.

tures arranged to show their contrasts with the greatest
effect upon the traveler. Old England is one continu
ous galleiy of this agricultural artistty ; and she will,
doubtless, for a century to corae, be the normal school of
the worid for the education of landscape-painters with the
plow. There is no countty in the world that can be made more
picturesque -by the artistry of agriculture than New Eng
land, New York, and Pennsylvania, notwithstanding our
long winters ; in no country, not in England at least, are
the hills more grand and varied, and the valleys more ex
tensive and adapted to a greater diversity of vegetation.
Now, in all this, I would not advocate /zrfar^-f arming, or
the collocation of crops merely to produce an artistic
effect, or a landscape-painting, which people passing may
stop to admire. No farmer in England ever did that, or
thought of doing it. All this scenic effect in that country
is merely an accidental result of profitable industry. It
comes from that rotation of crops that pays best. It is a
gratuitous drapery which nature throws around the best
cultivated fields as a token of her approbation and co
partnership. But there is a higher dignity than that of poetry or
painting that attaches to the farmer's profession ; a dig
nity which should make him walk as erect and look the
blue heavens as proudly in .the face as any man who
treads the earth. No industry to which huraan hands were
ever set since the first pair were made is deserving of
higher estimation than his. For, of all the toilers of tiie
earth, he stands in the closest co-partnership with Di\'ine
Providence in its realm of nature. See now the condi
tions of the co-partnership, the capital which each invests
in one summer's crop. Here, for example, is a cultivated
farm of one hundred acres of land. The Creator might

MAN S CO-PARTNERSHIP WITH NATURE.

287

4r

have made that land bear stout crops of wheat and corn
all of itself, without man's help ; but He did not and
would not He condescended to admit man to a part
nership with Him, in variegating the verdure of those
acres, in covering them with' waving grain and yel
low harvests. He would not let nature produce any crops
for human sustenance without the co-working of human
sinews. The wheel of the seasons might tum on forever,
scattering rain, dew, light and heat, and evety germinat
ing influence ; but, unless it was belted on to man's indus
try, it would not turn out a sheaf of wheat or a loaf of
bread. But see what comes of the connection, when a pair or
two of hands and hoping hearts join their activities to the
revolutions of that wheel. How generously nature divides
with man the honor and joy of the crop ! How she works
with all the sublime and minute economies of the season
in this partnership of toil I The very shape of the earth's
orbit and all its million-miled march-stages around the
sun, as well as the fine dew-distillety of the evening sky,
are brought to bear upon the production of those fields.
See how the light and heat are graduated to the growth
of those acres of Indian com. See the temperature that
nurses it into the blade, then into the stalk, then into the
silken settings of the ean See what purple curtains are
hung around the horizon ; what drj'ing, jocund, fall winds
blow; what a mddy-faced sun glows upon the ripening
ears, reddening them to Indian summer tints, as they peer
from the white lace drapety that enfolded them ! Look
at that sight and never more let a murmur of discontent
stir your lips when you talk of merchants, manufacturers,
or joint-stock companies, or any other occupation or pro
fession whatever. Joint-stock companies, indeed ! What
company of that sort ever formed on earth can compare

288

ELIHU BURRITT.

with the joint-stock company that carries on the smallest
farm ? What a firm of active partners have we here !
What a diversity of capital is invested in the enterprise !
What sympathy and co-working ! Where falls one drop
from the moistened brow of the farmer, there fall a thou
sand of germinating dew from heaven ; and the combina
tion touches the life of evety plant and blade with a new
vitality and verdure.
There is another quality of the farmer's position which
should be noticed in this connection. Of all the utilita
rian producers who work for human comfort, he is the only
one who feels an interest in the productions of his indus
tty above, and independent of, their money value. The
manufacturer sees in his wares the representatives of so
many dollars. They are mostly the production of a single
day, or of a week at longest. In this short period, twenty-
five per cent, of human, and seventy-five of machine, labor
have brought them from inception to perfection, ready for
market all labeled, packed, cased, or baled. Doubtiess •
he feels no little satisfaction at the quality as well as value
of his goods, and estimates the worth which their high
reputation may realize to him. To this extent, no further,
goes out his heart-interest towards them. As he walks
among his well-corded bales or banded boxes, the main
chance is in his eye and in his mind. There is no impulse
to a cozy patting, or any expression of attachment to them,
by word or look. Reduce bale, box, or package to its
constituent and positive value, and you have, as the resi
duum, a certain number of red cents.
Now let us turn to the farmer and his productions.
Every animal he houses in winter, and pastures in summer ;
every crop of grain, grass, or roots of different names ;
evety tree that flowers for him in spring or fruits in autumn,
radiates outward from his heart in so many concentric

THE HORSES AND CATTLE.

289

Circles of attachment, and it attaches itself to them by
nicely-graduated sentiments of interest. They are a con
centric extension of his family relations ; and they all re
semble, in growth and development the family charac-
acteristics. They afl have an infancy to be nurtured with
tenderness, care, hope, and faith. The first circle of his
family relationships, outside the human one of wife and
children, of which he is the center, is the barn-yard com
munity of his. horses, cattle, sheep, etc. Look at the fam
ily horse, a little grayish about the eyes with age, but still
called the colt, most likely. He was young when the
farmer set his first baby-boy on his back for a ride around
the yard. For ten years or more that homely horse has
borne the brunt and burden of family service. His very
neigh, as he hears the farmer stirring in the morning, is a
voice half human to every member of the family circle, and
has a speech in it the youngest child understands. Half
a dozen infants, within that period, have been held up in
those broad, thick hands to "pat pony" on the neck, or
dabble their littie fingers in his mane.
What recognkions of sympathy have passed between
him and his master in toiling, burning hours of summer
or when plunging through drifted snows towards a common
home m winter; in the stable, in the field, and on the
road I Does not the owner of that horse see in him a
worth that copper cents cannot represent ? Then there is
that pair of broad-horned Devonshire oxen. They were
born under his roof— his barn-roof, which is socially a
continuation of that under which his children were born
They are six years old, of the same age as his second boy"
His mother weaned him and his father weaned them at
the same time. How many morning and evening hours
he gave to the work ! And now they are large, staid dig
nified oxen, with necks hardened to the yoke Their
25

290

ELIHU BURRITT.

CITY AND COUNTRY.

291

great round eyes beam with intelligence and honesty. As
he unchains them from the plow, and lets down for them
the pasture bars, the uncouth and odd words he utters, by
way of benediction, may not be in the dictionary, but they
bring a new light to those horned faces, like the sunshine
of gladness. There is something more than the sheer
value of coined coi^per in those oxen which he sees and
feels. So it is with the remoter circles of his interests and
relationships — with the trees he plants, whose life is to
outlast his own and bear fruit for his children. They have
their infancy and their nursing. Almost next to the baby's
footing the carpet space erect for the first time is the
ripening of the first apple, peach, or pear on one of those
little trees he has tended and nursed with such care. So
it is with the growth, gathering, and enjoyment of all his
crops. The shortest-lived one of the whole requires three
months or more of skillful cultivation. Thus, all he sows
and reaps has a resemblance to the different stages of hu
man existence, and begets within him an interest in his
productions unknown to the banker, merchant, and manu
facturer. There is another point of view in which the farmer's po-
sflion and occupation may be considered to his advantage.
The strongest love of country attaches itself to the home
he makes for himself and his children. Here the most
enduring forms of fervid patriotism have their birth and
culture. What a country would be if it were one continu
ous city, and fed from foreign lands, we know not ; for no
such case has ever existed. But it would be impossible
to conceive how strong local attachments could ever be
formed under such circumstances ; and where they do not
exist the love of country must be a weak and uncertain
sentiment. Take one of our large cities, for example, and
walk for half a mile along a street of " brown stone fronts,"

pr

or of stately brick houses, all after the same pattern, in
somuch that a child born in one of them could not distin
guish it from a dozen others without the help of its nurse
or companion who can read the number. Here are houses,
inside and out, as much like each other as if cast in th©
same mould. One may be a littie nearer the end of the
street than the other, and that may tend to individualize
it from the rest. But how is a child to throw the tendrils
of its young affections around such a residence, and cling
to it with growing attachment through flfe ? If traveling
in distant lands in young manhood, how is he going to
individualize No. 10 from No. 1 1 or 12, and make it as dis
tinct from all other earthly localities as his own being is
from all other forms of human existence ? What a small
object for his yearning affections, that streara homeward
over the ocean, is the engraved plate over his father's door,
differing only in one figure frora its fellow on either side 1
Then add to this faint and undeveloped localization the
contingency of rentage and removal, two or three times in
a dozen years, to other brick houses of the same mould,
and you have the poorest school under the sun for the
education of home attachments and strong-hearted patri
otism. Now, turn to the farmer, wherever he owns and tills the
soil, especially in New England and the Middle States ;
go where you will, however few or many the acres he calls
his own, whether they lie in valley, on hill-side, or moun
tain, his home is as strongly individualized from that of
his neighbor as his own face is from that of the sarae man. '
His homestead stands out distinct, in prominent features,
from afl other inhabited localities on earth. It is marked
with rocks, nooks, and dells that differ from all others
ever grouped within a mile's circuit. The vety brook that
threads the meadows with its rippling music runs through

292

ELIHU BURRITT.

his with a different curve, under differently-jutting banks,
making different coves for the little speckled and red-gilled
fishes, which his children watch with eager-eyed interest,
as if they belonged to the farm as much as the pied calves
in the pasture, or the chickens in the barn-yard, or the
honeybees by the garden-wall. The very birds and
squirrels that house themselves on the great walnut tree
on one side, and the cherry tree on the other, are regarded
as a part bf the family circle by his boys. The mountain
or valley scenery from his door, or frora the opening in his
orchard, is all unlike the view that any other point com
mands in the whole countty round.
Here, then, is a home that the heart, in infancy or age, in
joy and affliction, in all the vicissitudes of human life,, can
cling to, with a separate object of every one for its thou
sand tendrils to clasp in yearning embrace. Here is a
home that it can individualize, and grasp in its drearas in
far-off countries. His youngest child, before it can pro
nounce the word, recognizes, with its short-sighted vision,
this birthplace of its existence ; and its littie bead-eyes and
baby-hands and voice run out after it beaming and bounc
ing and twittering with gladness in its mother's arms as
they return from a visit to their nearest neighbor's. The
love of country — that patriotism that endures to the end,
though that end be on the scaffold — grows with the growth
and strengthens with the strength of these home attach
ments. In view of these results and characteristics of his
occupation, who has a right to say that the farmer is not
entitled to rank himself in the very vanguard of society ?
— to feel that he stands as near as any living man to the
great virtues and destinies of the nation ?
There is an aspect of the farmer's position seldom
noticed, though it is well worthy of thoughtful attention.
I have already adverted to his co-partnerships. Let me

THE FORCE OF CIRCUMSTANCES.

293

jms

r»e:

r4^

now ask you to consider those virtuous companionships of
nature, those peculiar surroundings, designed to shape his
character, and make him the noblest work of God, — an
honest man. It is not a fancy, but a fact, proved by the
character and experience of mankind, reaching back to
that early day when Jacob tended the flocks and herds of
double-dealing Laban. Not only sheep and cattle, but
men, are greatly affected and modified by their sur
roundings, animate and inanimate. In building a house,
we raust have base lines, or perpendicular lines, or stand
ards, to square and measure by. In buflding up a. strong,
well-compacted moral character, we' must have also a
great variety of outward circumstances to give a shaping
bias to the structure ; not only written precepts of uner
ring wisdom, and instructive examples of great human
lives, but material measures and models, contrasts and
coraparisons, drawn from the lower orders of creation.
For illustration : after counting in, at its full value, evety
moral element that mingles in the character of the peo
ple of England, it is easy to notice a peculiarity which
must have come from one of these material surroundings.
There is no wood on the face of the earth so enduring, so
iron-hearted, brave, and unbending as the old Enghsh
Oak. There is no people in the world so distinguished for
hardy, invincible, everlasting pluck as the English race,
especially in grappling with the elements, in wrestling
down the wrath and fury of the ocean whh their ships, in
spanning straits, leveling mountains, and in other simflar
enterprises. All their old indomitable houses have a
show oi pluck about them, as if they said to Time, "Now
do your worst for three centuries to come, and see what
impression you can make upon us," You see this phtck
illustrated in the very wheels of pleasure carriages and
25-*

294

ELIHU BURRITT.

THE FARMER S COMFORTS.

295

pony phaetons, which are as broad rimmed and heavy as
those of our horse-carts and stage-coaches. After allowing
all that any one ought to claim for the higher grade oi
shaping influences, I believe that this peculiar fluck-char-
acteristic comes, to a large extent, from the influence of the
English Oak upon the mind of that people, from genera
tion to generation. There it stands from a thousand years,
with its heart of iron, and its leaves green with the dew of
youth— a perpetual model and illustration of all that is
unbending, strong, and sturdy in tempest and trial. Gen
eration after generation unconsciously j-^z/^ar^ to it in build
ing up a character. Their most animating songs refer
to its virtues. " ITearts of Oak I" has been sung or
shouted by British soldiers and sailors in the breach of
stormed cities and on the reddened billows at Aboukir and
Trafalgar. " I am a chip of heart of oak " is another stir
ring battie-cty in the conflict with the elements or with
human enemies. Now, can any one believe that fhe En
glish people would ever have had this peculiar character
istic so fully developed, if all the trees of their island had
heew poplar, palm, ox palmetto 1 What heroic inspirations
to noble daring could come out of a song beginning with,
" Ye hearts of poplar 1" ' l am a chip of willow !" Just
think of it ! of die effect of such comparisons upon the
mind 1
Now, then, if the farmer is not the most stable, honest
truthful, upright man in the community, it is because he
sins against his surroundings, as well as against those
moral precepts and obligations which are addressed to
him in common with his neighbors of other occupations.
In the first place, there are the broad, blue heavens
above his head, with all their glorious purities, from morn
ing till night in spring, summer, autumn, and winter. He
has more opportunity and occasion to study their features

J^

than any other living man. He plows, sows, and reaps by
them. They are his weather-manual, and he peers into
their cloud-leaves for hints and instructions. The sweep
and revolution of planets, and all the sublime phenomena
of the sky-world, are familiarly associated in his mind
with seed-time and harvest. No one has such a variety
of inducements " to look erect at heaven " so frequently,
so inquiringly as he. Then he is out all day, and returns
at night, in the companionship of birds and bees, that teach
and illustrate the happiness of honest and hopeful indus
tty, and sing him their best songs to cheer his own.
Then there are his horses, cattle, sheep, and dog, with
their large and honest eyes, all fliustrating faithfulness,
truth, and patience. These are virtuous surroundings of
a human life. They are outside helps to the formation of
that sterling, honest, well-rounded character which should
distinguish the farmer, and raise him in the estimation of
the community.
Let us next glance at his personal comforts and capaci
ties of enjoyment as compared with those of other posi
tions. His face is tanned and swart His hands are
broad and hard, with large blunt fingers. He wears
heavy boots in sumraer, of cow-hide, stiff and strong, with
heels shod with stout iron nails. Grant that he may walk
a little clumsily in haying and harvest, and his shirt-sleeves
be a little autumnal in shading in hoeing time. Make the
worst of all of that, and then corapare these external ap
pearances, at their most unfavorable contrast with those
ofthe merchant, manufacturer, and men of indoor occupa
tion. There is something as an offset on the page of per
sonal comforts which may be quoted to his advantage.
We have all heard of persons called epicures, men who
make it the study of their lives to please their palates
with the most delicious viands and drinks ; men who would

296

ELIHU BURRITT.

hunt a whole day for a couple of tender birds, weighing an
ounce each when dressed ; who are great amateurs h-^julefs
of different flavor, z.ndpu7iches iced and seasoned after an
ehte fashion. Now compare all the relish with which such
men pamper their appetites with the personal enjoyments
of that man of the bronze face who earns and eats his
bread by the sweat of his brow. Why, the fabled deities
of Olympus, who breakfasted on ambrosia and nectar
juleps, never knew anything of the pleasure of appetite
compared with the farraer.
See him now with his boys on a cloudless July day in
the meadow. See the strong and graceful sway of those
stalwart arms as they swing their sharp and crooked
scythes through the serried ranks of herdsgrass and clover,
tinted with daisies and buttercups, and moistened by the
last drops of dew that shall freshen them under the morn
ing sun. Listen to the crisp ring of those long-curved
blades, as at each stroke they gather against their keen
edges a three-feet sweep of standing grass, and lay it down
on the clean-shaven sward, each severed stalk breathing
out its life of fragrance on the morning air. Of all human
activities and employments, what one compares, for manly
strength and grace of motion, with the mower's steady
swing and tread through his meadows ? It is the poetry
of labor, the crowning epic of human industry. Never are
dews so peariy and pure, never is the air of heaven per
fumed with such fragrance, never sing the birds with such
ecstacy in their littie palpitating hearts, as in haying time.
Did you ever note the happy things at this peculiar sea
son ? How they bring out their best songs, and sing
"Sweet Home," "Over the Daisies," "On the Cherry
Tree," "The Bumble Bee's Anthem," "The Bobolink's
Waltz," " The Moss Nest" and other popular bird-airs
from the old masters that sung to Eve in Eden I Master

THE LUNCHEON.

297

.1^

Bobolink is the Monsieur Julien of the meadow-choir, and
does up the facetious with inimitable grace and special
gusto in haying time. He never flies across the meadow
so many times a day as when he hears the morning clip
and cling of the scythe. He always brings out his best
songs for the mowers, in his most loquacious and incom
prehensible Dutch. Sticking to the court dress of the
middle ages, with the white lappets of his coat touched
up with the early dew, what a song he pours down into
the farmer's ears, as he swaggers through the air, playing
off, in his roguety, the half-drunken harlequin I
So rauch for bird and brook music provided for the
farmer, by which to regulate the beats of his industty.
Now look at hira at one of his epicurean enjoyments, at
the half-past nine morning luncheon. Luncheon ! I hope
you all know the meaning of that delicious institution of
agricultural labor. If not, you may learn a little of its
significance at the sight under that widespread elm. The
farmer and his sons have girdled that meadow with twenty
swaths, and they are now seated in a circle on the soft,
cool grass under that ample shade. See him now remove
the white cloth from the top of that basket and spread it
over the circular space they enclose. See him lift out one
by one the articles of food and refreshment the good wife
and mother at home has put up with such neatness and
care, — bread and butter, cold meats, a few pieces of pie,
and dried beef cut in thin and even slices. Then there is
a plate of pickled beans or cucumbers just struck through.
Just think of the six appetfles that encircled that basket
before it was uncovered, and of the appetites they became
at the sight and savor of those delicious morsels ! Talk
oi epicures ! oi broiled -woodcock, and pies of pheasant
tongues ! What is all that with its highest seasoning,
compared with the relish with which three hours' mowing

298

ELIHU BURRITT.

has seasoned these bits of common food to that ruddy-
browed farmer and his sons ? The ambrosia of the idle
deities of Olympus was mere bean-porridge compared with
the dainty luxury of brown bread to the man who grows
and eats it by the sweat of his brow. It is in this season
ing of toil that Nature and Providence bless the humblest
food to the farmer with a relish unknown to the epicures
of regal courts.
Drink is it? juleps? nectarine punches, and other artis
tic mixtures to delight the taste ? Look into that deep,
dark well, with the cold water just perceptible. That is a
more delicious drink to the farmer than was ever distilled
from nectar for Jupiter. He wants no golden or silver
goblet to drink it from. The " old oaken bucket," swinging
on its iron swivel, is better to him than all the chased ware
of luxuty. See him at the windlass or well-sweep, with
his face red and dusty, and his mouth, eyes, and throat
chafed with hay-seed. Here the big-bottomed bucket
bump against the moss-covered stones as it descends.
There is the splash, and the cold, gurgling sound at the
filling ; and now it slowly ascends, with a spray of water-
drops dashing against the wall, evety one giving a new
edge to the farmer's thirst. There it is, standing on the
curb before him, and it mirrors the moistened and red
dened face which bends to the draught. There is a drink
for you that nature has distUled for the farmer's lips the
like of which fabled Olympus never knew.
So with sleep. How many thousands of men clothed
in fine linen, and faring sumptuously every day, in the
most gorgeous abodes that wealth can furnish, would give
half their fortunes for the deep enjoyment of the farmer's
slumber I
Let us now consider that aspect of the farmer's position
which he is most apt to view in a disparaging light to his

m^

fir

THE LAW OF COMPENSATION.

299

own disadvantage and discomfort. No impression has
been more hurtful to his mind than the ungrateful notion
that his earnings are small, slow, and hard, when compared
with those of other occupations. The disturbing question
often creeps into his heart and comes to his hps, how many
merchants and manufacturers make more money in one
year than he can in ten with all his close economy and
hard toil. Who can tell ? He cannot nor can we. Their
number may be quite large, but not half so large as the
list of merchants and manufacturers each of whom has
lost more in a single month than all the farmers in ten
miles square for fifty years. There is something on the
other side of the account current of these occupations.
The principle of compensation runs through and underlies
all their issues. In the scrub race for riches, a few will
win the prizes at the end of the course. They will record
their naraes araong the upper ten, or the lower twenty.
But the hundreds who started with them, and swamped
their hopes and fortunes in utter bankruptcy, are hardly
noticed by an incidental mention. If there were not some,
if there were not many men of great wealth in these preca
rious and hazardous occupations, the .odds against their
line of business would be greatly disproportionate com
pared with the farmer's gains. He greatly underrates the
comfort and dignity of his own position to envy them.
Wherein has Providence ordained that his condition should
equal theirs ? How does the compensation principle of
nature's laws work in his behalf, to equalize the long run
of his life with their average career ? It does in this way :
it raakes his earnings sure, however slow they may be. Are
his yearly returns smaller than theirs ? They are merely
less the discount that Providence charges him as compen
sation for guaranteeing to him a safe and steady income ;
for sheltering his earthly all against the sudden hazards

300

ELlHU BURRITT.

and sweeping ruin to which the merchant is exposed every
year of his business life ; for shutting out of his lot the
heart-wearying perils of protested paper, bank payments,
and the thousand annoyances of expanded credit and fraud
ulent debtors. Think of that. How can he have the heart
to murmur at the discount he must allow from his yearly
income for all these blessed exemptions ? Slow earnings !
small fortunes 1 O, neighbor Broadback, never give place
to that ungrateful thought for a single moment. It is un
worthy of you. It suggests a most unjust comparison whh
the lot of others not half so favored as your own. " Did
I not agree with you for a penny a day ? " asked the mas
ter of the vineyard, in Scripture, of the envious and com
plaining laborer. When a simflar murmur nestles among
your morning, noonday, or evening thoughts, realize that
Providence puts the same question to you, slightly altered :
" Did I not engage to protect you against those harrowing
anxieties, those daily perils of property which eat into the
souls of men of other occupations, and enslave them all
their lives long to the fear of poverty and the love of riches ?
Did I not invest your little earthly all in the bank of
nature, which never suspended a dividend to a human
stockholder since the first dew-drop fell on the trees of
Eden ? When the paper banks of cities contracted or
suspended their issues, when fortunes buflt upon flctions
crumbled to the dust, and alarm and ruin reigned in all the
great centers of trade, were not your deposits safe ? Did
nature contract its dividends to you by a single dew-drop ?
by a single sunbeam ? by scanting the issues of a single
rain-cloud ? Did the disaster that overwhelmed thousands
of merchants, manufacturers, and bankers touch the sus
tenance of your family by a single kernel of corn ? Did
one blade of it pale and droop in your field for all the with
ering of ostentatious wealth you witnessed at a distance ? "

FICTITIOUS VALUES.

301

But I am confident that this murmuring at slow earn
ings has been largely cured by the experiences of the past
year ; that the most complaining farmer, seeing the sud
den crash and ruin to which the mercantfle and manufac
turing interests are exposed, has come to a clear percep
tion of the comfort and dignity of his position ; that he
feels more than reconciled to that discount charged on his
income, as an offset for the guaranty of Providence against
the corroding cares, hazards, and dangers through which a
comparative few obtain large fortunes by other occupa
tions. There are a great many kinds of property that consti
tute wealth, its equivalent or representative. Take those
fortunes which farmers are most tempted to en\y, and
you will find hay, wood, and stubble alternating in them
from bottora to top, or values which are fictitious, arbi
trary, and precarious. A breath of suspicion, a whisper
on 'Change, may wither some of these elements of wealth
in a moment. They are appropriately and expressively
called fancy stocks; and millions of money and tens of
millions of promises to pay are invested in them. They
are soap bubbles, brilliant with the gorgeous hues of money
of all metals, but they collapse to a sediment of froth at
the first adverse wind. Then there is another set of secu
rities, ranking higher in the scale of reality, but based
upon mutable values and subject to sudden and sweeping
deterioration. They include shares in joint-stock com
panies, and in speculating enterprises, in which one stakes
his money almost on a game of chance. In these two
classes of reputed property we have the hay and stubble
of wealth. Next comes the wood element or the owner
ship and rentage of city buildings, corner lots, " brown
stone fronts," and the like. This is so substantial and
permanent in seeming that it is called real estate. But it
26

JWT

302

ELIHU BURRITT.

TRUE PROPERTY.

303

is not fairly entitled to that term. It may produce a large
income to the owner in times of reckless speculation, lux
urious living, and expensive show. But in times of de
pression and financial collapse, it may not produce the
taxes upon it. The whole of it yields no positive or inde
pendent values to the occupant. The rentage is an outgo
to him, a bill of expense, to be charged over against the
profits he may derive from his capital and labor invested
in other species of property. The owner pockets raoney
earned on the wrong, the unproductive, the debit side of
the debtor's ledger. I repeat therefore, that such prop
erty is not strictly entitled to the term real estate, because
it is not positively and independently reproductive. It may
be so much more substantial and safe, in the long ran, than
fancy stocks and paper bonds of moonshine cornpanies,
embellished with beautifully-engraved vignettes, as to be
called real in comparison ; but the only real property,
in an absolute sense, is that represented by cultivated
farms. It is in this intrinsic value of land, plowed, sown, and
reaped for generations, that the farmer has the advantage
over every other property-owner in the community. All
his hard-soiled acres are on the right side of the ledgen
His revenues from thera are positive values to himself and
to the world around him. They are food for man and
beast ; vital sustenance, without which money would have
no value 'and wealth no existence. The productions of
his farm are real, absolute, and independent, in positive
worth, of all the fluctuations to which mercantile property
and stocks of every kind are subject His lands will not
burn nor blow away, nor founder in the tempest. There
they are for ever, softened and moistened by the same rain
and dew, warmed to green and exuberant life by the same
sunbeams, ready to give back to the tiller's hand manifold

rewards for his tofl. If he and his descendants deal hon
estly with them, they never weary nor wane, but wax more
abundant in production for a thousand years. Go to old
England, to the parts settled and cultivated by the rural
Saxons ten centuries ago. From the time they first tumed
the virgin sod with their rude wooden plows to the pres
ent moment, those lands have become more and more
productive in their revenues, until, at this moment they
stand unrivalled on the globe. A thousand consecutive
harvests have not exhausted but enriched them. There
is a real estate for you. Go to that old Saxon farm in
Sussex, on which some follower of Hengist or Horsa
squatted before the English language was bom ; reckon
tip the value of its thousand harvests, including that which
has just been gathered, and compare the productive value
of those acres to mankind with the worth of fancy stocks,
or the rent of a brown stone front or of a marble palace for
the sale of calicoes. The only estate which Divine Provi
dence ordained to be a real and everlasting value, in the
material world, it has entrusted, as the highest honor of
human industry, to the stewardship and occupancy of the
farmer. After all that has been said, fefl, and secretly murmured
of the slow earnings and small properties of American
farmers, after all the disparaging comparisons with mer
chants, manufacturers, and bankers, which they have been
in the habit of arraying against themselves, they constitute,
if they did but realize it, the great aristocratic democracy
of the countty. Please admit the term — an aristocratic
democracy — the hoipolloi of even fortune ; the' independ
ent owners and tillers of nearly all the productive acres of
this great continent ; that fast-anchored yeomanry that
mediate between Providence and all other classes of the
community, and feed them daily with the productions of

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ELIHU BURRITT.

their industry. It is for this mission and position that I
would say to them : Cultivate and cherish a proper sense
of your dignity. Give up the habit of dividing yourselves
into individual atoms, and comparing yourselves, thus iso
lated, with men of city wealth and standing, with the
Girards, Astors, and the merchant princes of commerce.
You see what comes of such comparisons — first, a depress
ing sense of disparity of fortune ; then a sense of little
ness and insignificance, which is all unworthy of you.
Don't take off your hat in obsequious reverence to the
Girards, Astors, or any speculating capitalists of the coun
tty. Who were they, or who are the men that have suc
ceeded them, in the ranks of wealth? they are the
oligarcy, are they, that own all the banks, warehouses, fac
tories, and shipping of the nation ? Grant that. But why
should this show of wealth impress you with a sense of
inferiority as a class ? Empty the vaults of all those banks
into one great depositoty, and afl the goods in those ware
houses, and all the bales, wrought and unwrought, in those
factories, and all the value of those ships, and the worth
of all the city lots and edifices from one end of the Union
to the other ; take an inventoty of all the real and per
sonal estates of all other classes in the land, and compare it
all with the active, indestructible wealth of the farmers of
America, and see how small it is in comparative value.
Why, the whole continent, with all its millions upon mfll
ions of cultivated acres, belongs to the farmers.
See how the plow is breaking up the measureless soli
tudes of the Western World. To watch the movement of
one share, the process seems slow. To watch the growth
of one farmer's estate, the accumulation seems slow. But
unite farmer to farmer, and measure the furrows they turn,
the harvests they reap, the homes they build, the wealth
they win as a class, and you wifl have an approximate idea

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INCREASE OF ARABLE LAND.

305

of their relative position in society. See how the noise
less, industrial hosts are subduing hill, valley, and prairie
from ocean to ocean. I believe the farmer can stfll wield
the axe who felled the first tree north of the Ohio. Mid
dle-aged men can remember when the whole population of
Northern Illinois was gathered at night within one picket-
fort for protection against the Indians ; when all the great
fertile worid west of the Mississippi was, virtually, an un
explored country. See how the farmer's plow has tumed
and overturned, until millions have followed in its wake,
and planted great and populous States, with cities, towns,
and villages of almost fabulous growth. The plow moves
on in its God-honored mission and might turning back
furrows against the Rocky Mountains on eflher side. All
the vast space between those mountains and the Missis
sippi is but one land or stetch for the fanner yeomanry of
America ; all west of those mountains to the Pacific is but
another. The child, doubtless, lives who will see, ere his
locks are gray, both these almost measureless intervals
turned by the farmer's share, and reaped by his sickle.
What chiefly gives power and 'position to the aristocracy
of Great Brflain ? Why, the ownership of the land of that
island. Well, the farmers of America own a continent
containing the space and agricultural capacity of a hundred
such islands ; and they will own it to the end of time.
Without any laws of primogeniture, all the arable acres of
the northern half of the New Worid wfll be their posses
sion and heritage.
Class-feeling is un-American, undemocratic. Stfll, the
farmers of America, in justice to themselves, should be
animated with that esprit de corfs, with that sense of the
dignity of their occupation and position, that shall raise
them above afl self-disparaging comparisons wflh other
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ELIHU BURRITT.

classes of the coramuiiity, measured by any standard what
ever. We have noticed several distinguished aspects of the
farmer's position, — the dignity, comfort poetty, and .pat
riotic tendencies of his life and occupation. What he has
been in past years of self-depression as a citizen is no cri
terion whereby to measure the mental status and stamina
to which he ought and is yet to attain. Surrounded by
such influences, standing in such relations to Nature, Prov
idence, and his fellows of other occupations ; living and
laboring, from morning until night, in such close compan
ionship with the seasons, with all the beautiful economies
and picturesque sceneries of creation ; with all the living
literature of its gloty-bound volume turned over by day-
leaves before his eyes ; with all these perpetual and gratu
itous teachings of the outward world on one hand, and
with all the fountains of human literature which stream
towards him on the other, he sins against his duty and
privilege if he does not reach and sustain the best-rounded
mental character, the strongest stature of sterling common
sense and general knowledge, of any member of the com
munity. " Let by-gcines be by-gones." " Let the dead past buty
its dead. " Let the farmer put off the fetters of its associa
tions and measureinents as Samson put from his limbs the
hampering cords of the Philistines. Let him come forth
and stand in the sunlight of this mighty present that is
dawning upon the world, and take his true position in its
dignities and duties, as a man best qualified to fill them
by his large compass of practical and varied knowledge.
Shall the cockney upstarts of fashion, luxury, and city-life
call him a clodhopper hereafter ? — him, a prime landlord of
this great and beautiful creation, on whom its Almighty
Architect has conferred such high trasts, and such pre-

A

THE FARMER S WINTER.

307

eminent means and motives of self-culture and elevation ?
He a "clodhopper," whom God has put to the highest
school of heart-and-raind education ever opened on earth ?
" Let by-gones be by-gones," I say again. Let the obsolete
standards of the past be buried with it as the tomahawk
and scalping-knife of Indian warriors are buried with them.
Look at the educating agencies and influences which the
present has brought to the American farmer. We have
glanced at the schooling which Nature gives him in her
three quarters' term of outdoor instruction from seed-time
to the ingathering of his year's harvest. When his barns,
cellar, and garret are fifled with the produce of his fields,
Nature looks abroad for a few days with the ruddy smile
of Indian summer, as if she said to the Earth, " Well
done ; thou hast been faithful to man. Wrap thy white
mantle around thee, and enter upon thy winter's rest;
while man, whom thou hast so bountifully fed and clothed
for his dafly tofl, shall enter upon his, and gather, until
spring, intellectual strength and enjoyment from the living
world of thought which the printed page of its varied lit
erature shall bring to him at his fireside." To all men the
God of Providence and grace has given one day in seven
for rest and religious devotion. To the farmer. He has
not only given this day with a peculiar relish for its enjoy
ment, but also the three winter months of the year, in
which to store his mind from those boundless sources of
knowledge which the Press has brought to his door. In
the first place, the literature connected with his occupa
tion exceeds, in extent and variety, that of all other indus
trial professions in the world, — a literature to which great
and cultivated minds, in all civilized countries, are con
tributing their best thoughts and learning.
Doubtless there have been more gifted pens and
tongues employed upon the subject of agriculture within

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ELIHU BURRITT.

the last five years than there were, half a century ago,
upon all the other sciences, arts, and occupations put to
gether. Just glance at the contributions which these three
autumnal months will bring to the storehouse of this agri
cultural literature. Think of the thousands of town,
count}'. State, and national affairs, conventions, and conver
saziones that have taken place in Europe and America
since the first of last September, of the thousands of elo
quent orations and elaborate essays these occasions have
brought - forth. And " a chiel was amang ye takin'
notes," and, "faith, he has printed them, too," for the
farmers of the world. The " chiel " of the printing press
— the man who, with his alternating bits of inked pewter,
gives ubiquitous immortality to human thoughts — was at
them all, and he has printed them. He has printed for
the farmer's library the grand oration of Wifliam Ewart
Gladstone at old England's Chester — the most splendid
orator in Europe ; the deep-thoughted and brilliant essay
of Ralph Waldo Emerson, at Old Massachusetts' Concord ;
and hundreds upon hundreds of other speeches on the
same subject. Glance at the mfllions of these new pages
contributed to the farmer's instruction and enjoyment.
See how all the " ologies, onomies, and osophies '' of the
world of science pour their treasures into this annual offer
ing to his mind. See with what gifts they do homage to
the first human occupation inside and outside of Eden.
See how these sciences and arts — these Oriental Magi of
the intellectual world — bring their frankincense and myrrh
to the cradle of the great primeval industry in reverence
for its mission on earth. See them come, with God's
great Bible leading the procession, and lighting the way.
Here is chemistry with its crucible, geology with its ham
mer, and astronomy with its telescope, followed by all the
ologies both great and small, each opening its cabinet of
jewels for the general offering.

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OPPORTUNITIES FOR READING.

309

Thus, the professional literature provided for the farmer,
or that pertaining to his occupation, embraces a vast range
of varied and elevating knowledge. But all this is merely
the literature of his manual, of his hand-book, which he
may consult daily in seed-time and harv'est, just as the
mariner consults his chart and navigation-manual whfle
guiding his vessel across the sea. The farmer need not
give his winter months, with their long evenings, to this
agricultural, this professional reading, but to evety de
partment of general literature that can interest cultivate,
and expand his mind. In this respect he has an advan
tage over all who are called professional men. The law
yer, physician, the college professor, and even the minister,
must each confine himself mainly to professional reading,
in order to fit himself for the position he fills. Not so
with the farmer. The rainy days and comer moments of
the spring, summer, and autumn months will suffice gen
erally for the perusal of those books and periodicals con
taining the principles and suggestions he is to apply to
his occupation, leaving his winter for the enjoyment of
works of histoty, poetty, belles letters, and general litera
ture. It is for this peculiar advantage that the farmer of
the present and the future day ought to be the best read
man in the community, the best fitted, by a wide range of
practical knowledge, for those civil posts and duties to
which such knowledge is indispensable.
Then there is another circumstance which enhances the
value of this advantage. No raan in the community can
establish and maintain such a regular routine of reading
as the farmer. He generally resides at some distance
from the thickly-settled town or village, and is less sub
ject to those interruptions to which men of the city are
exposed. His books and periodicals are profitable and
enjoyable substitutes for the social life and entertainments

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which occupy so many evening hours in the cflies. E\en-
ing after evening, for consecutive months, he can sit down
to the companionship of these books, and commune with
the most brilliant minds of all ages, and feel his own
illumined and enlarged by evety evening's fellowship with
their thoughts. ^
I would earnestly press this regular system- of reading
upon the farmer as that source of enjoyment which flows
more freely for him than for men of other occupations, I
would say to him : Regulate your business so as to take
full advantage of this enjoyment Do not let late night
work in the field, or on the road, rob you of these reading
hours. Make them stand among the first values of your
life. Let the thoughts you harvest from the printed page
rank in duty and worth next to the golden sheaves of
wheat you garner into your barns. Take a lesson of life
from the old adage, " It is the last ounce that breaks the
camel's back." It is the late hour that breaks the farm
er's, and makes the drudgety of his occupation. It is the
extra effort and the extra time that bend his constitution
and sap the sinews of his life. It is the last extra acqui
sition of property he cannot enjoy that virtually enslaves
him to unrequited tofl.
One word in regard to the acquisition of books, and I
have done. Everybody is familiar with the saying of the
poor cottage-renter in Ireland, " The pig pays the rent."
The poorest occupant of a mud-walled cabin in that coun
tty manages to buy a young pig, and to feed it to the value
of fifteen or twenty dollars, without feeling vety sensibly
the little daily expenditure. I would say to every farmer :
Adopt the same economy in regard to the ownership, or
rentage, of useful literature for yourself and faraily. Do
for the God-built temple of your mind what the poor Irish
peasant does for his mud-walled cottage. Set apart some-

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ENGLISH AND AMERICAN BIRDS.

311

thing that shall yield a certain revenue evety year for
books. Adopt his source of income, if you please, for
nothing could be more easy, convenient and sure. Take
a young pig eariy in March, or April, of evety year, and
say, " -what this shall bring in the market next Christmas
shall go for books." Wflh honest feeding, it will buy at
Christmas twenty volumes of useful and entertaining read
ing for your winter evenings. In a few years you wfll have
a library for your home that would do honor to any pro
fessional or literaty man at the nation's capital. Take in
your chfldren as partners with you in all the enjoyments
and anticipations which that libraty-pig will purchase,
and you may be certain that they will feed it with extra
care to make it buy at Christmas a thousand extra leaves
of literature for their enlightenment and profit. Is there
any young farmer, or farmer's son, just entering upon
agricultural life for himself? Let me urge him to adopt
this simple plan at the outset, and watch the process and
result and see if he does not realize all I have predicted.
Corae, now ; just tty it at once ; try it this year ; com
mence this very month ; and what a libraty you will have
at Christmas for the evenings of next winter \— Lectures
and Speeches.

ENGLISH AND AMERICAN BIRDS.
The Lark; the Robin; the Rook and Jackdaw; Birds not
TO BE Molested in- England ; More Numerous than in
America; American Birds Surpass in Beauty of Dress.
"Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these ?
Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught
The dialect they speak, whose melodies
Alone are the interpreters of thought ?

312

ELIHU BURRITT.

Whose household words are songs in many keys.
Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught 1
Whose habitations in the tree-tops, even.
Are half-way houses on the road to heaven." Longfellow.
Having spent a couple of hours very pleasantiy at
Tiptree Hall, I turned my face in a northerly direction
for a walk through the best agricultural section of Essex.
Whfle passing through a grass field, recently mown, a
lark flew up from almost under my feet. And there, par
tially overarched by a tuft of clover, was her little all of
earth — a snug, warm nest with two sraall eggs in it, about
the size and color of those of the ground-chipping-bird
of New England, which is nearer the English lark than
any other American bird. I -bent down to look at them
with an interest that only an American could feel. To him
the lark is to the bird-world's companionship and music
what the angels are to the spirit land. He has read and
dreamed of both from his childhood up. He has believed
in both poetically and pleasantly, sometimes almost posi
tively, as real and beautiful individualities. He almost
credits the poet of his own country, who speaks of hear
ing "the downward beat of angel wings." In his facile
faith in the substance of picturesque and happy shadows,
he sometimes tries to believe that the phoinix may have
been, in some age and country, a real, living bird, of flesh
and blood and genuine feathers, with long, strong wings,
capable of performing the strange psychological feats
ascribed to it in that most edifying picture emblazoned
on the arms of Banking Companies, Insurance Offices,
and Quack Doctors.
He is not sure that dying swans have not sung a mourn
ful hymn over their last moments, under an affecting and
human sense of their'mortality. He has believed in the
English lark to the same point of pleasing credulity.

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ANTIQUITY OF BIRD-SONGS.

313

Why should he not give its existence the same faith ?
The history of its life is as old as the English alphabet,
and older stfll. It sang over the dark and hideous lairs
of the bloody Druids centuries before Julius Cassar was
born, and they doubtless had a pleasant name for it
unless true music was hateful to their ears. It sang,
without loss or change of a single note of this morning's
song, to the Roman legions as they marched, or made
roads in Britain. It sang the same voluntaries to the
Saxons, Danes, and Normans, through the long ages,
and, perhaps, tended to soften their antagonisms, and
hasten their blending into one great and mighty people.
How the name and song of this happiest of earthly birds
ran through all the rhyme and romance of English poetry,
and of English rural life, ever since there was an England !
Take away its history and its song from her daisy-eyed
meadows and shaded lanes, and hedges breathing and
blooming with sweet-brier leaves and hawthorn flowers —
from her thatched cottages, veiled with ivy — from the
morning tread of the reapers, and the mower's lunch of
bread and cheese under the meadow elm, and you take
away a living and beautiful spirit more charming than
music. You take away from English poetty one of its
pleiades, and bereave it of a companionship more inti
mate than that of the nearest neighborhood of the stars
above. How the lark's life and song blend, in the rhyme
of the poet with " the sheen of sflver fountains leaping
to the sea," with morning sunbeams and noontide thoughts,
with the sweetest breathing flowers, and softest breezes,
and busiest bees, and greenest leaves, and happiest human
industries, loves, hopes, and aspirations !
The American has read and heard of all this from his
youth up to the day of setting his foot for the first time,
on English ground. He has tried to believe it as in
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314

ELIHU BURRITT.

things seen, temporal and tangible. But in doing this
he has to contend with a sense or suspicion of unreality
— a feeling that there has been great poetical exaggera
tion in the matter. A patent fact lies at the bottom of
this increduflty. The forefathers of New England car
ried no wfld birds with them to sing about their cabin-
homes in the New World. But they found beautiful and
happy birds on that wild continent as well-dressed, as
graceful in form and motion, and of as fine taste for
, music and other accomplishments, as if they and their
ancestors had sung before the courts of Europe for
twenty generations. These sang their sweet songs of
welcome to the Pflgrims as they landed from the "May-
Flower." These sang to them cheerfly, through the first
years and the later years of their stern trials and tribula
tions. These built their nests where the blue eyes of
the first white children born in the land could peer in
upon the speckled eggs with wonder and delight What
wonder that those strong-hearted puritan fathers and
mothers, who " Made the aisles of the dim woods ring
With the anthems of the free,"
should love' the fellowship of these native singers of the
field and forest and give thera names their hearts loved
in the old horae land beyond the sea ! They did not
consult Linnseus, nor any musty Latin genealogy of Old
World birds, at the christening of these songsters. There
was a good family resemblance in many cases. The
blustering partridge, brooding over her young in the
thicket was very nearly like the same bird in England.
For the mellow-throated thrush of the old land they found
- a mate in the new, of the same size, color, and general
habits, though less musical. The blackbird was nearly
the same in many respects, though the smaller Araerican

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THE ROBIN.

315

wore a pair of red epaulettes. The swallows had their
. coat tails cut after the same old English pattern, and
built their nests after the same model, and twittered
under the eaves with the same ecstacy, and played the
same antics in the air. But the two dearest home-birds
of the fatherland had no family relations nor counterparts
in America; and the pilgrim fathers and their chfldren
could not make their humble homes happy without the
lark and the robin, at least in name and association ; so
they looked about them for substitutes. There was a
plump, full-chested bird, in a chocolate-colored vest with
bluish dress coat, that would mount the highest tree-top
in early spring, and play his flute by the hour for very
joy to see the snow melt and the buds swell again. There
was such a rolflcking happiness in his loud, clear notes,
and he apparently sang them in such sympathy with
human fellowships, and hopes, and homes, and he was
such a cheety and confiding denizen of the orchard and
garden withal, that he became at once the pet bird of old
and young, and was called the robin ; and well would it
be if its English namesake possessed its sterling virtues ;
for, with all its pleasant traits and world-wide reputation,
the English robin is a pretentious, arrogant busybody,
characteristically pugflistic and troublesome in the winged
society of England. In form, dress, deportment, dispo
sition, and in voice and taste for vocal music, the Amer
ican robin surpasses the English most decidedly. In this
our grave forefathers did more than justice to the home-
bird they missed on Plymouth Rock. In this generous
tribute of their affection for it they perhaps condoned
for mating the English lark so incongraously ; but it was
true their choice was vety limited. To match the prima
donna carissima of English field and sky, it was necessary
to select a meadow bird, with some other features of

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ELIHU BURRITT.

resemblance. It would never do to give the cherished
name and association to one that lived in the forest, or
buflt its nest in the tree-tops or house-tops, or to one that
was black, yeflow, or red. Having to conciliate all these
conditions, and do the best with the material at hand,
they pitched upon a rather large, brownish bird, in a drab
waistcoat slightiy mottied, and with a loud, cracked
voice, which nobody ever liked. So it never became a
favorite, even to those who first gave it the name of lark.
It was not its only defect that it lacked an ear and voice
for music. There is always a scolding --accent that marks
its conversation with other birds in the brightest mornings
of June.' He is vety noisy, but never merty nor musical.
Indeed, compared with the notes of the English lark, his
are like the vehement ejaculations of a maternal duck in
distress. Take it all in all, no, bird in either hemisphere equals the
English lark in heart or voice, for both unite to make it
the sweetest happiest the welcomest singer that was ever
winged, like the high angels of God's love. It is the
living ecstacy of joy when it mounts up into its "glorious
privacy of light" On the earth it is timid, silent and
bashful, as if not at home, and not sure of its right to be
there at all. It is rather homely withal, having nothing
in feather, feature, or form to attract notice. It is seem
ingly made to be heard, not seen, reversing the old axiom
addressed to children when getting voicy. Its mission is
music, and it floods a thousand acres of the blue sky
with it several times a day. Out of that palpitating speck
of living joy there wells forth a sea of twittering ecstacy
upon the morning and evening air. It does not ascend
by gyrations, like the eagle or birds of prey. It mounts
up like a human aspiration. It seems to spread out its
wings and to be lifted straight upwards out of sight by

THE BOBOLINK.

317

the afflatus of its own happy heart. To pour out this in
undulating rivulets of rhapsody is apparently the only
motive of its ascension. This it is that has made it so
loved of all generations. It is the singing angel of man's
nearest heaven, whose vital breath is music. Its sweet
warbling is only the metrical palpitation of its life of joy.
It goes up over the roof-trees of the rural hamlet on the
wings of its song, as if to train the human soul to trial
flights heavenward. Never did the Creator put a voice
of such volume into so small a living thing. It is a mar
vel — almost a miracle. In a still hour you can hear it at
nearly a mile's distance. When its form is lost in the
hazy lace-work of the sun's rays above, it pours down
upon you all the thrilling semitones of its song as dis
tinctly as if it were warbling to you in your window.
The only American bird that could star it with the
English lark, and win any admiration at a popular concert
by its side, is our favorite comic singer, the Bobolink. I
have thought often, when listening to British birds at
their morning rehearsals, -what a sensation would ensue if
Master Bob, in his odd-fashioned bib and tucker, should
swagger into their midst singing one of those Low-Dutch
voluntaries which he loves to pour down into the ears of
our mowers in haying time. Not only would such an
apparition and overture throw the best-trained orchestra
of Old World birds into amazement or confusion, but
astonish all the human listeners at an' English concert.
With what a wonderment would one of these blooming,
country milkmaids look at the droll harlequin, and listen
to those familiar words of his, set to his own music :
Go to milk I go to milk 1
Oh, Miss Phillisey,
Dear Miss Phillisey,
What will Willie say
If you don't go to milk !
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ELIHU BURRITT.

No cheese, no cheese,
' No butter nor cheese
If you don't go to milk.
It is a wonder that in these days of refined civilization,
when Jenny Lind, Grisi, Patti, and other celebrated Eu
ropean singers, some of them frora very warra climates,
are transported to America to delight our Upper-Tendom,
that there should be no persistent and successful effort to
introduce the English lark into our out-door orchestra of
singing-birds. No European voice would be more wel
come to the American million. It would be a great gain
to the nation, and be helpful to our religious devotions,
as well as to our secular satisfactions. In several of our
Sabbath hymns there is poetical reference to the lark and
its song. For instance, that favorite psalm of gratitude
for returning Spring opens with these lines :
" The winter is over and gone
The thrush whistles sweet on the spray,
The turtle breathes forth her soft moan.
The lark mounts on high and warbles away,"
Now not one American man, woman, or chfld in a thou
sand ever heard or saw an English lark, and how is he,
she, or it to sing the last line of the foregoing verse with
the spirit and understanding due to an exercise of devo
tion ? The Araerican lark never mounts higher than the
top of a meadow elm, on which- it see-saws, and screams,
or quacks, till it is tired ; then draws a bee-line for another
tree, or a fence-post never even undulating on the voyage.
It may be said, truly enough, that the hymn was wrflten
in England. Stfll, if sung in America from generation to
generation, we ought to have the English lark with us,
for our children to see and hear, lest they raay be tempted
to believe that other and more serious similes in our Sab
bath hymns are founded on fancy, instead of fact.

THE lark's INFLUENCE.

319

^^

Nor would it be straining the point, nor be dealing in
poetical fancies, if we should predicate upon the intro
duction of the English lark into American society a sup
plementary influence much needed to unify and national
ize the heterogeneous elements of our population. Men,
women, and children, speaking all the languages and rep
resenting all the countries and races of Europe, are
streaming in upon us weekly in widening currents. The
rapidity with which they become assimilated to the native
population is remarkable. But there is one element from
abroad that does not Americanize itself so easily — and
that curiously, is one the most American that comes from
Europe— in other words, the English. They find with us
everything as English as it can possibly be out of Eng
land—their language, their laws, their literature, their
very bibles, psalm-books, psalm-tunes, the same faith and
forms of worship, the same common histories, memories,
affinities, affections, and general stracture of social life
and public institutions ; yet they are generally the vety
last to be and feel at home in America. A Norwegian
mountaineer, in his deerskin doublet and with a dozen
English words picked up on the voyage, wfll Americanize
himself raore in one year on an Illinois prairie, than an
intelligent middle-class Englishman wfll do in ten, in the
best society of Massachusetts. Now, I am not dallying
with a facetious fantasy when I express the opinion that
the life and song of the English lark in America, super
added to the other institutions and influences indicated,
would go a great way in fusing this hitherto insoluble
element and blending it harmoniously with the best vital
ities of the nation. And this consummation would well
?repay a special and extraordinary effort. Perhaps this
expedient would be the most successful of all that remain
untried. A single incident will prove that it is more than
a mere theory. Here it is, in substance :

i*5r

320

ELIHU BURRITT.

Some years ago, when the Australian gold fever was
hot in the veins of thousands, and fleets of ships were
conveying them to that far-off, uncultivated world, a poor
old woman landed with the great multitude of rough and
reckless men, who were fired, almost to frenzy, by drearas
of ponderous nuggets and golden fortunes. For these
they left behind them all the enjoyments, endearments,
all the softening sanctflies and surroundings of home and
social life in England. For these they left mothers
wives, sisters, and daughters. There they were, thinly
tented in the rain, and the dew, and the mist, — a busy,
boisterous, womanless camp of diggers and grubbers,
roughing-and-tumbling it in the scramble for gold mites,
with no quiet Sabbath breaks, nor 'Sabbath songs, nor
Sabbath bells to measure off and sweeten a season of
rest. Well, the poor widow, who had her cabin within a
few miles of "the diggings," brought with her but few
comforts from the old home-land — a few simple articles
of furniture, the bible and psalm-book of her youth, and
an English lark to sing to her solitude the songs that had
cheered her on the other side of the globe. And the
little thing did it with all the fervor of its first notes in
the English sky. In her cottage window it sang to her,
hour by hour, at her labor, with a voice never heard before
on that wild continent The strange birds of the land
came circling around in their gorgeous plumage to hear
it. Even four-footed animals, of grim countenance,
paused to hear it Then, one by one, came other listen
ers. They came reverently, and their voices softened
into sflence as they listened. Hard-visaged raen, bare-
breasted and unshaven, came and stood gently as girls ;
and tears came out upon raany a tanned and sun-blistered
cheek as the little bird warbled forth the silvery treble of
its song about the green hedges, the meadow streams, the

THE WOMAN AND LARK.

321

cottage homes, and all the sunny memories of the father
land. And they came near unto the lone widow with
pebbles of gold in their hard and horny hands, and asked
her to sell them the bird, that it might sing to them while
they were bending to the pick and spade. She was poor^
and the gold was heavy; yet she could not sell, the
warbling joy of her life. But she told thera that they
might corae whenever they would to hear it sing. So, on
Sabbath days, having no other preacher nor teacher, nor
sanctuaty privilege, they came down in large companies
from their gold-pits, and listened to the devotional hymns
of the lark, and became better and happier men for its
music. Seriously, it may be urged that the refined tastes, arts,
and genius of the present day do not develop themselves
symmetrically or simultaneously in this matter. Here
are connoisseurs and enthusiasts in vegetable nature
himting up and down all the earth's continents for rare
trees, plants, shrubs, and flowers. They are bringing
them to England and America in shiploads, to such extent
and variety, that nearly all the dead languages and many
of the living are ransacked to furnish names for them.
Llamas, dromedaries, Cashmere goats, and other strange
animals, are brought thousands of miles by sea and land,
to be acclimatized and domesticated to these northern
countries. Artificial lakes are made for the cultivation
of fish caught in antipodean streams. That is all pleasant
and hopeful and proper. The more of that sort of thing
the better. But why not do the other thing, too ? Vatte-
mare made it the mission of his life to induce people of
different countries to exchange books, or unneeded dupli
cates of literature. We need an Audubon, or Wilson, not
to make new collections of feathered skeletons, and new
volumes on ornithology, but to effect an exchange of

-ic*r

322

ELIHU BURRITT.

living birds between Europe and America ; not for caging,
not for zoological gardens and museums, but for singing
their free songs in our fields and forests. There is no
doubt that the English lark would thrive and sing as well
• in America as in this country. And our bobolink would
be as easily acclimatized in Europe. Who could estimate
the pleasure which such an exchange in the bird-world
would give to millions on both sides of the Atlantic ?
There are some English birds which we could not
introduce into the feathered society of America, any
more than we could import a score of British Dukes and
Duchesses, with all their hereditary dignities and grand
surroundings, into the vety heart and center of our de
mocracy. For instance, the grave and aristocratic rooks,
if transported to our countty, would turn up their noses
and caw with contempt at our institutions — even at our
oldest bufldings and most solemn and dignified oaks. It
is vety doubtful if they would be conciliated into any
respect for the Capitol or the White House at Washing
ton. They have an intuitive and most discriminating
perception of antiquity, and their adhesion to it is invinci
ble. Whether they came in with the Normans, or before,
histoty does not, say. One thing would seem evident
They are older than the Order of the Garter, and belonged
to feudalism. They are the living spirits of feudalism,
which have survived its human retainers by several hund
red years, and now represent the defunct institution as
pretentiously as in King Stephen's day. They are as
fond of old Norman casties, cathedrals, and churches as
the very ivy itself, and cling to them with as much per
tinacity. For several hundred generations of bird-life,
they and their ancestors have colonized their sable com
munities in the baronial park-trees of England, and their
descendants promise to abide for as many generations to

&e_

THE rook; JACKDAW.

323

come. In size, form, and color they differ but little from
the American crow, but are swifter on the wing, with
greater "gift of the gab," and less dignified in general
deportment, though more given to aristocratic airs.
Although they emigrated from France long before ."Z«
Dimocratie Sociale" was ever heard of in that country,
they may be considered the founders of the Socialistic
theory and practice ; and to this day they live and move
in phalansteries, which succeed far better than those at
tempted by the Araerican "Fourierites" some years ago.
As in human communities, the collision of mind with
mind contributes fortuitous scintfllations of intelligence
to their general enlightment, so gregarious animals, birds,
and bees seem to acquire especial quick-wittedness from
similar intercourse. The English rook, therefore, is more
astute, subtle, and cunning than our American crow, and
some of his feats of legerdemain are quite vulpine.
The jackdaw is to the rook what the Esquimaux is to
the Algonquin Indian — of the same form, color, and
general habits, but smaller in size. They are as fond of
ancient abbeys and churches as were ever the monks of
old. Indeed, they have many monkish habits and predi
lections, and chatter over their Latin rituals in the storied
towers of old Norman cathedrals, and in the belfries of
ivy-webbed churches in as vivicacious confusion.
There is no country in the world of the same size that
has so many birds in it as England ; and there are none
so musical and merry. They all sing here congregational-
wise, just as the people do in the churches and chapels
of all religious denominations. As these buildings were
fashioned in early times after the Gothic order of elm
and oak-tree architecture, so the human worshipers
therein imitated the birds, as well as the branches, of
those trees, and learned to sing their Sabbath hymns

324

ELIHU BURRITT.

together, young and old, rich and poor, in the same gen
eral uprising and blending^of multitudinous voices. I
believe everything that has wings sings in England. And
well it might for here it is safe from shot, stones, snares,
and other destructives. " Young England " is not allowed
to sport with fire-arms, after the fashion of our American
^boys. You hear no juvenile- popping at the small birds
(Of the meadow, thicket, or hedgerow, in spring, summer,
or autumn. After traveling and sojourning nearly ten
years in the countty, I have never seen a boy throw a
stone at a sparrow, or climb a tree for a bird's nest The
only birds that are not expected to die a natural death
are the pheasant, partridge, grouse, and woodcock ; and
these are to be killed according to the strictest laws and
customs, at a certain season of the year, and then only
by titled or wealthy men who hold their vested interest in
the sport among the most rigid and sacred rights of prop
erty. Thus law, custom, public sentiment, climate, soil,
and production all combine to give bird-life a develop
ment in England that it attains in no other country. In
no other land is it so multitudinous and musical ; in none
is there such ample and varied provision for housing and
homing it. Evety field is a great bird's nest. The thick,
green hedge that surrounds it and the hedge-trees arising
at one or two rods' intervals, afford nesting and refuge
for myriads of these meadow singers. The groves and
thitkets are full of them and their music ; so full, indeed,
that sometimes every leaf seems to pulsate with a little
piping voice in the general concert. Nor are they con
fined to the fields, groves, and hedges of the quiet country.
If the census of the sparrows alone in London could be
taken, they would count up to a larger figure than all the
birds of a New England county would reach. Then
there is another interesting feature of this companionship.

TRUE BROTHERHOOD.

325

A great deal of it lasts through the entire year. There
are ten times as many birds in England as in America in
the winter. Here the fields are green through the coldest
months. No deep and drifting snows cover a frozen
earth for ten or twelve weeks, as with us. There is
plenty of shelter and seeds for birds that can stand an
occasional frost or wintry storm, and a great number of
them remain the whole year around the English home,
steads. -j
If such a difference were a full compensation, our
North American birds make up in dress what they fall
short of English birds in voice and musical talent The!
robin redbreast and the goldfinch come out in brighter
colors than any other beaux and belles of the season
here ; but the latter is only a slender-waisted branette,
and the former a plump, strutting little coxcomb, in a
mahogany-colored waistcoat. There is nothing here
approaching in vivid colors the New England yellow-bird,
hang-bird, red-bird, indigo-bird, or even the blue-bird.
In this, as well as other differences, Nature adjusts the
system of compensation which is designed to equalize
the conditions of different countries.
Walk from London to jfohn O'Groafs.

TRUE BROTHERHOOD.
Sir John Franklin's Fate and its Moral Influence and
Results ; the Finns and their Sufferings ; Joseph Sturge
AND HIS Mission of Charity.
Let us briefly consider the influence upon Christendom
of a case of suffering, attended with circumstances which

326

ELIHU BURRITT.

¦t

have seldom, if ever, marked a disaster to human lives in
modern times. For several centuries the North Pole had
thrown its iceberg gauntiets at the feet of the world's
science and civilization, and challenged them to explore
Its frigid arcana. Many a bold sea-captain, with his
hardy tars, had accepted the challenge, and pushed their
frosty prows against the bulwarks of everiasting winter,
built around the earth's axle, as if to keep its bearing
cold and free from friction. The history of these polar
navigators has made more than a score of volumes of
deep and exciting interest Many have been the ships
crushed to pieces between the drifting mountains. Many
have been the men of different race who have been cast,
wrecked and bruised, upon the interminable Sahara of
snow. Many have made their graves beneath its white
and freezing drifts. Still, brave hearted men have been
found, from decade to decade, eager to face the fierce
dangers of these expeditions. Among the most dauntiess
of them all was Franklin with his heroic band. Ab
stractly, his life and theirs were worth no more to them
and to the worid than that of many a small frigate's cap
tain and crew who have, gone down under the broadsides
of larger ships, and whose loss made no deep nor lasting
sensation in the mind even of their own nation.
But all the ships sunk in wars, with thousands of sailors
as brave as his, never produced such an impression upon
Christendom as the fate of Franklin and his men. No
one human experience, perhaps, ever before touched the
heart-strings of humanity to such generous vibration.
The world made him a man and a brother, indeed, of the
nearest relationship. No one human life so interwove
with its fibers the nations in the web of brotherhood.
Each adopted him as if he were the first-born of its
commonwealth. They hastened with this sentiment to his

^^

HUMAN SYMPATHY.

1^7

rescue. They scaled the ice-works of the Polar Sea to
find and save him and his men. English, American,
French, Russian, and Dane mounted the frozen heights
to pluck him from his grim prison. His noble wife fired
the chivalry of both hemispheres with the eloquent pathos
of her appeal. What deeds of daring and suffering were
volunteered by men of different countries to search out
and save that handful of English sailors I What beautiful
sympathies their mysterious fate set beating and breathing
in the heart of Christendom ! What rivulets of generous
sentiment is set running through the great communities
of the world !
If Franklin and his men did not succeed in making
their way to the North Pole of the earth, they gave to the
world a better discovery, — the pole of Humanity nearest
heaven, -vs'itli its fixed star of hope and promise. The
mission of his great suffering will doubtless be felt to
future ages, stirring men to deeds of noble and daring
philanthropy. Who can estimate the diversified germina
tion of the seed — thoughts and seed-acts strown broad
cast in the fitting out and in the path of, these expedi
tions ? Who can tell how many life-boats have been
launched around the storm-beaten coast of the British
isle, as the flowering and fruitage of that heroic and gen
erous sympathy which Franklin's great suffering inspired
and awoke ? Who can say what a new class of -wreckers
it will give to the nations which hunted for his footprints
in the white wilds of eternal winter ?
Examples of international sympathy and benevolence
followed each other in quickening succession after the
Irish famine, and evidently under the influences set in
motion by that event One of the most interesting and
unique of these occurred soon after the Crimean war.
In the course of that gigantic struggle, war showed out
its old inalienable nature, — the unregenerate malignities

328

ELIHU BURRITT.

of its animus, acts, and machinery of destruction. It
proved that it could not be Christianized, civflized, nor
softened by the kindlier influences of an enlightened age.
It claimed its old prerogative, exercised in pagan times,
to inflict the greatest possible injury on the enemy, wher
ever or by whatever he can be reached ; to storm the
citadel with the wail of famine in the outside cabins of
the poor whom the citadel cannot protect from ravage ;
to starve non-combatant populations, that the sight and
cry of their misety may compel their governments to suc
cumb ; to enfeeble the fighting power of a countty by
destroying the private property and means of sustenance
of its laboring men. Nations claiming the highest Chris
tian civilization, in the vety last wars they have waged,
have found that the religion they profess has not been
able to wrest this rule ot the sword from the hand of war
when once drawn.
England with an army and navy claiming, perhaps
justly, to be raore Christian in their composition than the
similar forces of any other power in Europe, found the
attributes of war unchanged and unchangeable in the
conflict with Russia. Her fleets in the Baltic found
Cronstadt impregnable, and the pathway to the heart of
the great northern power blocked up by that formidable
fortress. Being unable to reach the citadel, they resorted
to the traditional and common tactics of war, and sought
to weaken the heart by slashing at the extremities of the
empire. They pounced upon the small-winged vessels of
the Finns and sunk or burned them by whole flocks.
The simple fishermen, who knew not the cause of the
war, and had taken no part in it, saw their little craft,
and their all of wealth, destroyed in one fell swoop by
the mighty ships bearing the British flag. It was like a
raid of kites upon helpless broods of starlings. Their
cargoes of salt for curing fish, which they had brought

T03EPH STURGE.

329

from such distance and at such expense, went down to
make more brine in the sea.
Many of their larger vessels, laden with timber, pitch,
and resin, were burned at their moorings, and wooden
piers were set on fire to make the destruction more com
plete. Several of their vfllages were laid in black and
smouldering heaps by the thundering broadsides of the
war-ships ; and amazement, misety, and desolation were
spread along the coast and high up the inland of the
peasant countty. What had the simple people done to
bring down upon themselves such sudden and sweeping
destruction ? They had no arms to defend themselves,
nor power nor skill to use thera if they had them. Why
should Christian England overwhelm them with such
fierce desolation ? A little while before, the English
Bible Society had sent them thousands of copies of the
Gospel of Jesus Christ in their own language, and they
had taken the gift as a token of English good-will and
kindness towards them. Did these great and terrible
ships of war come from the same people who sent them
the Holy Bibles ? Poor peasants ! it was probably the
first time they had tasted the tender mercies of war, and
they were sorely amazed and perplexed in their distress.
And there were thousands upon thousands of good
and true men in England equally perplexed and saddened
in mind at the destruction and wretchedness thus brought
upon the poor Finlanders. One of these, good Joseph
Sturge, who had made a journey to St. Petersburgh to
avert the war, was stirred to the depths of his great and
good heart in behalf of the sufferers. Before many
months had elapsed after the bloody conflict had ended,
his broad, serene face, lighted by God's love as brightly
as the moon at its full is lighted from the sun, was seen
shining in the darkened homes of the Finland fishermen.
28*

' fl

330

ELIHU BURRITT.

Not a word of their language could he speak, not a word
of his could they ; and only a common saflor, who knew
little of both, stood between them in this communion.
But they understood the language of his heart and he
the language of theirs, with but little verbal interpretation.
For days and weeks this good Quaker Samaritan went
around among the ruins his countrymen had made along
the Bothnian coast binding up the wounds they had set
a-bleeding; soothing them with healing drops of the
Samaritan's oil, and, with purse longer than his Christian
prototype's, making the widow's heart to sing for joy at
his coming, and little orphans to look up into his broad,
serene, and beaming face, and wonder if it were not the
very face of the great Father come down from above, or
if it did not much resemble it in brightness and goodness.
And sorae of the youngest, in their half-baby thoughts,
guessed timidly that he was the living Bible, walking
about under a broad-brimmed hat and that the paper
Bibles that came just before the awful cannons came that
blew their parent's homes to pieces, were all dead books,
or had no good life in them, or the ships would not have
set their houses on fire and blown their chapels down as
they did. Poor chilclren I they often step out wildly with
their first thoughts, just as they do with their feet.
Thus good Joseph Sturge walked about in the fishing
vfllages and hamlets of Finland, plucking out the thorns
from memories that were beginning to fester against his
countty, and leaving in their stead the germs of a better
remembrance. To this beautiful work of philanthropy
he and his brother gave ;£'iooo, and other members of
the Society of Friends in England nearly ten times as
much more. This was the last mission of the good man's
benevolence, and it fittingly ended a life fifled from begin
ning to end with great acts of good-will to mankind.
Mission of Great Sufferings.

STORY OF A DOG.

331

AFFECTING STORY OF A DOG.
A little incident * came to my knowledge here, which is
well worthy of a place among those long records of touch
ing affection and fidelity which dogs of all ages and coun
tries have given to mankind as helping influences in the
shaping of human lives and dispositions. I was sitting
at the breakfast table of a friend who is a druggist when
he was called into the shop by a neighbor who had come
for medical advice and aid in a very remarkable and
affecting case. He described it briefly and simply, but it
would fill a volurae of beautiful meaning.
His family dog had incidentally made the acquaintance
of a little bandy-legged, sunny-haired toddling, the young
darling of a neighbor on the other side of the street.
While lying on the door-stone, with his dreamy eyes peer
ing out, this way and that, in short speculations, he had
noticed this little thing, sometimes at the chamber-window
and sometimes on the pavement extemporizing those
small entertainments which infant minds enjoy. Now,
from time immemorial, there has always been a spontane
ous affinity of fellowship between children and large,
shaggy, honest-eyed dogs, generally commencing when
both go on all fours. Whoever has watched the counte
nance of a great Newfoundlander, or St. Bernard, whfle
looking from the hearth-side at a chubby, chirpy, perky
baby wriggling across the floor on its hands and feet in
those frog-like hltchings which the first and last children
born into the world have begun to walk it in ; — \vhoever
has thoughtfully looked into such a dog's face at such a
*This interesting and affecting story is told by Mr. Burritt, and is
founded on an incident that occurred at the town of Truro, during his
" Walk from London to Land's End."— Ed.

.^

332

ELIHU BURRITT.

sight, SO proud and joyful to mothers, young and old, must
have noticed an expression of intelligence and sympathy
more than human. That is the dog's day of honor and
gladness in the family circle. There he is on the floor
with his master's youngest child on an equal footing. He
sees and feels it ; let no one doubt that Here and now
they are both quadrupeds in faculties and manner of mo
tion. Pie loves to see the mother take the flttie being
from her bosom and place it back upward on the carpet,
and bubble over with inarticulate raptures to see it work
itself along from one figure to another. Don't put a self
ish thought into that dog's mind. Don't say that he feels
an unworthy pleasure in the proof that every grand em
peror, and evety man that ever walked the earth since
Adam, had to serve his babyhood's apprenticeship on the
floor on all fours, and move over it in a fashion which
might well move the sympathy of a puppy of the same
age, or any other lirtle quadruped of benevolent disposi
tion. No, a real Newfoundlander is too generous for
comparisons so derogatory to his raaster's humanity. It
is not with the sympathy of pity but of love that he
watches the movements of the littie being on the carpet or
in its mother's arms. He longs and loves to take part in
bringing fl on. He loves to feel its little, short fat amis
buried in the long hair of his neck ; its soft, white fingers
clasping his long ears. What tugging and touzling, and
pinching and pulling at the tail he will take, all in the fun
and frolic of the daily gambol, and never whine or wince
even with a pain that would make the father of the child
Cty out and put a bitten finger to his mouth I And what
¦member of the family circle is prouder or happier than he
when that child finishes his long apprenticeship as a quad
ruped, and stands for the first tirae upright on what were
once its hind-feet and makes two steps forward before its

THE DOG AND CHILD.

333

limpsy body loses its balance, and. it comes down again to
its original condition in a squashy concussion with its
forehead against the floor ? Doesn't he, with all the in
telligible speech of eye and tafl, say just what the father
says, with more fun in his face : "Don't cty, Teddy 1 up
and tty it again 1 " Wflh what tenderness and delight he
turns saddle-horse and carriage-horse for the little thing
when it is first taken outdoors to see the birds and hear
them sing, and be introduced to the old Mully "with her
crumpled horns," to Jenny the pony, and to the feathered
bipeds of the barn-yard circle I Of all the eyes watching
that chfld up to boyhood, whose are fixed on him oftener,
longer, and fondlier, than those now beginning to look out
dimly from under the gray eye-brows of that old house-dog ?
The youth, full of life and vigor, does not remember the
time when he crept on his hands and feet across the floor ;
but the old dog, napping longer at the fireside now than
then, remembers it, and follows him with all his first love
and truthfulness ; follows him, often hesitatingly and wist
fully at a distance, even when told to go back in a tone
that goes to his heart. That eye follows him last as he
recedes from sight, and greets him first on his return. Its
look at its last closing is full of its first love ; and ii it were
permitted to open again in paradise it would glisten there
in the light of that love unquenched by the grave.
This dog was endowed -with the nature that does honor
to his kind and good to a higher race. Lying there by the
door-stone, or making short morning trots up and down the
side walk, he espied this little child on the other side of
the street. If the trath were known, I ara sure that it
would be found that the chfld's father had no dog for his
horae, and the dog's owner had no child for his. This
was probably the secret of their first acquaintance. Their
sympathies and affinities worked in them to the same im-

334

ELIHU BURRITT.

f

pulse. The dog, on one of his walks on that side of the
street, met the baby turn-out, and looked over the rim of
the httle basket-carriage, and looked, as a loving dog can
look, straight into a pair of baby eyes, peering upward
with querying wonder at the blue worid above. It was the
face he had seen against the nursety window frora the op
posite side. Of course, seeing such a hairy face with its
tender eyes, corae suddenly between its own and the sun
the child cocked up a fat foot crowed, bit a thurab, smiled
and said " good morning ! " as well as it could. The dog
understood it, any way. Human friendships and loves as
long as eternity have often commenced on as small a'be-
' ginning of incident ; and so began the beautiful sympathy
and companionship between this intelligent, affectionate
creature and the infant chfld of his owner's neighbor just
where the line of demarcation between the two races of
beings is the thinnest and raost obscure. Little by little,
day by day, and week by week, this companionship went
on, growing with the growth and strengthening with the
strength of the littie one. The dog, doubtiess because
his master had no young child of his own, came at last to
transfer, frequently, his watch and ward to the door-stone
on the other side of the street ; to follow as a guard of
honor the baby's carriage on its daily airings, darting proud
and warning looks at all the breed of barkers on the way
that seemed impertinent or inquisitive. He assisted at
the inauguration of its first perpendicular footing of two
yards of the garden-walk. He led the way down the aisle,
barking his great round barks of joy, and waving the littie
one on with the proudly-curved standard of his tafl. With
what delight he gave himself up to all the pettings, pinch-
ings, and pullings, and little rude rompings, and rough-
and-tumblings, that those baby-hands could disport them
selves wflh I Thus grew their mutual attachments. And
to this it had grown, when one day, as the dog lay in watch

THE dog's GRIEF AT THE CHILd's DEATH. 335

and ward by the door-stone, the chfld, peering out of the
window above, lost its balance and fell head-foremost upon
the stone pavement below. It never breathed again. It
was taken up out of the puddle of blood with fractured
skull, motionless and dead. The red drops of the young
life had bespattered the feet and face of the dog as he
sprang to the rescue. His heart died out within him, in
one long, whining moan of grief. From that moment he
had refused to eat. He refused to be comforted by his
master's voice, and by his master's home. Day by day,
and night by night he lay upon the spot where the child
fell, with his shaggy throat pressed closely to the pave
ment, as if he would warm to life again the blood that had
stained it.
This was the neighbor's errand. He told it all in few
and simple words ; but, opened to their full significance,
they raeant the whole histoty of the incident I have given.
He had came to my friend, the druggist for a prescription
for his dog — something to bring back his appetite, some
thing to Minister to a mind diseased,
* # * » *
Cleanse the stuff 'd bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart.
It may possibly be true. Some believe it. The; Sauit of
Patmos saw in his vision of the New Jemsalem horses and
other beasts taking part in the services and adorations of
the Heavenly City. Perhaps such dogs as these will not
be shut out of that happy immortality. One would like to
hope that they raight be admitted to it, if it were reverent
to entertain such a wish. Doubtless there wfll be room
enough in it and scope and verge enough on the banks of
the river of life for them to bask in without getting in the
way, or abstracting from the happiness of their saved and
sainted masters taken up to that haven on a smaller foot
ing of personal merit.

336

ELIHU BURRITT.

A VISIT TO THE QUEEN'S DAIRY.
A flttie beyond Abingdon I came out upon the line of
my viaVs-from London ; thus virtually completing the tour.
I therefore proceeded directly to Windsor to visit the
Queen's Daity, the only remaining object of interest that
I was desirous of referring to in ray notes. I had obtained
a ticket of admission through the good oflices of our min
ister at St. James's, and was highly gratified at being thus
enabled to see an establishment of which I had often
heard. " The Queen's Dairy/" How Saxon and homelike
sounds that term! The Queen's cows "with crampled
horns';; brindle cows, spotted, red-faced, whfle-faced,
mottied, brown, and dun, coming in from pasture at eve
with whisking tails, and eyes soft, gentle, round, and hon
est. The Queen's milk-maids, with rosy cheeks, patting
the meditating- OTZ<!///« wflh white, soft hands and voices of
kind accent. The Queen's milk-pails, wflh her crown
mark upon them all, so pure and sweet in their polished
hoops. The Queen's milk-pans, shelved in long rows,
wflh the cream-lily's golden leaf, like another Victoria
Regina, overlaying the luscious deep an inch or two below
the brim. The Queen's churns, so surpassing all that
Dutch housewifety. ever dreairied of in purification and
polish of wood and brass. The Queen herself, in straw
bonnet and thick:Soled shoes, walking up and down the
.daity-room, dropping happy and smiling looks into pails
and pans of milk and cream ; perhaps anon stamping a
roll of new-made butter with her wife's seal manual for
the royal table ; thinking the while of dairies and pastures
far and near — of Alderneys, Devonshires, Herefords, and
Shorthorns, and of their comparative graces and merits.

THE MILK ROOM.

337

The Queen's Dairy / The vety name seems to link her
queenhood to the happiest and homeliest experiences of
rural life ; to attach her, by a sensible lien of industrial
sympathy, to all the farmers' wives in the British Empire ;
to introduce her into the daily fellowship of their feelings
and interests; to morning and evening walks on their
rustic levels of care, leaming what milk, butter, and cheese
mean, and all the minute details of their production.
The milk-room of the daity is represented, in the ac
companying sketch, in the one-stoty wing of the main
building. For fls uses, and for the associations attaching,
to thera, it is perfection in itself. Its internal structure and
arrangements are exquisite in every feature and fitting. To
say that it is a little marble temple, " polished after the sim^
ilitude of a palace," would convey a sense of its cool white
ness and purity, but not its aspect of softness. The walls,
the long marble tables, the fountains, the statuaty of ras-
tic life, and all the finely-sculptured allegories look as if
wrought from new milk petrified just as the cream began
to rise to the surface. Or as if, looking into the basined
pools of the soft white fluid circling around the interior,
like great fluent pearls Strang for a bracelet they had
gradually assimflated themselves to the medium that re
flected their faces, and had taken up both its softness of
look and sweetness of savor. It was traly a beautiful
sight, that would dazzle and delight the eyes of our Orange
county daity-women. The pans or dishes are of oblong
shape, with a lip to them, which saves many an unlucky
splash in pouring their contents into other vessels. Then
they are all made of the finest stone china, with gilt edges,
each holding two gallons, and costing a guinea, or five dol
lars. There were ninety-two of them, placed in double
rows on the long marble tables, which ran around the
room over a flowing sheet of clear spring water ripplmg in
29

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IDB
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PRINCE ALBERT S TASTE.

339

• its wide marble channel. Thus the milk-pans alone cost
full 2,500 dollars.
No description I could give would convey any adequate
idea of the refined taste, fertile genius, and exquisite art
brought to bear upon this little palace. In no other
structure he left behind him, can you see so much of Prince
Albert's entire as in this. It is his last and best. And
for this reason Americans will regard it with peculiar in
terest. It is a pleasant impression current with us, that
his last work with the pen was to soften some rather severe
and energetic expression in a diplomatic communication
addressed to our Govemment by his own. Whether that
be true or not a great portion of our people believe it to
be so, and treasure his memoty in that belief. This beau
tiful daity was a fitting work to* end the active and wide-
reaching utilities of his useful life. He gave to it the full
swing and sway of his taste and genius ; and the best concep
tions of both are blended here in the happiest harmonies.
I was told that in the minutest detail of the stracture and
its adornments the design was his own. The seasons of
the year and their occupations are put in sculptured pic
tures, chaste, delicate, simple, and natural as life. The
family record is mounted in the porcelain walls in medal
lion faces by twos and by ones. First the happy couples
of the royal circle, beginning with the Queen and Prince,
followed by those of their two eldest daughters with their
husbands, succeeded by the younger and unmarried chil
dren. It seemed to me a happy thought and full of pleas
ant illustration of his character, thus to link their lives to
the beautiful economies of nature and to the every-day
industries of a toiling world, typified in the pictures of
these interests, so delicately graven in the same walls.
It is no wonder that this is a favorite resort to the Queen,
not only because it was the last work of her husband, but

.340

ELIHU BURRITT.

also because it best reflects the most cherished features
of his character. She visits it very frequently with her
children, who look with lively wonderment at all the pro
cesses that produce butter. I was told by the head dairy-
woman that the youngest were delighted at the permission
to turn the crank of the barrel-churn, and would tug at it
for full fifteen minutes at a time, till their faces were hot
and flushed wflh the exercise, and their hair flashed over
their eyes, at every round. I was rather surprised to find
the pafls, tubs, etc., so common and siraple. They were
vety solid and heavy, and thoroughly English in their
shape and weight. The milk-pails especially were of this
character, being about as heavy when empty as ours when
full. They seemed to be made of solid English oak, nearly
half an inch thick, with irpn bafls, apparently wrought on
the anvil, like the old-fashioned bafls of our brass kettles.
But, with all this solidity of wood and iron, they were
pearly pure and neat. Still, a New Englander would nat
urally wish that some of our mountain-town factories would
send Her Majesty a set of their beautiful, seamless, white
cedar pafls, so light and pretty in face and form. I am
sure she would appreciate and approve the difference in
their favor.
Of the cows, there were ten Alderneys in mflk ; the rest
were pure or graded Shorthorns. The difference "in the
richness of their milk may be seen in the fact that two
gallons of the former produce one quart of cream, while
the same quantfly of the latter yields only one pint. The
whole daity produces twenty-seven pounds of butter daily.
I was a little surprised to learn, on questioning the mis
tress of the establishment, that they always mixed the
mflk of the cows, and that she had never sent to the Queen's
table a single roll of pure Alderney butter. Thus, with
ten cows, of that lineage, milked daily, it is doubtful if they

Jt

THE QUEEN S AVIARY.

341

have ever been allowed to present her a luxury which thou
sands of her liege subjects enjoy.
The Aviaty is as perfect in its way as the daity, and is
opposite to it on the other side of the roadway. It gives
the most elegant and comfortable housing to almost evety
kind of feathered biped known to ornithology. The pipers
and paddlers of all countries are represented by elite dele
gates in the flutter and splutter of this happified conven
tion. The provision for the paddlers is delightful and
delicious to them. The large basin in front of the Aviary,
with the fountain playing in the center, is the vety elysium
of spoon-bills of evety name, shape, and size, ranging from
the stateliest swan to the little tufted duckling trailing its
shadow across the water, as if he had caught it at a dive
and was afraid he would lose it. It is a constitutional
monarchy of birds, in happy, and perhaps instinctive, har
mony with the British Constitution. The royal family, the
dUferent orders of the aristocracy, the peers, commons, and
plebs, all seem to have been taught their places and pre
rogatives, and to move on together pleasantly like a well-
regulated human society of the European pattern.
Prince Albert did not play at farming merely to follow
the fashion of agricultural amateurs, or to kill time with
an occupation for some of its tedious hours. He put a
downright eamest and honest heart into it, as a business
which gives full scope to science, art, and enthusiasm.
He was a prince araong farmers, as well as among peers,
in practical leadership, as his many agricultural addresses
and experiments clearly show. The model fanns he es
tablished at Windsor are the result of the principles and
improvements he advocated carried out to their best work
ing. Ordinaty farmers may not be able to erect such
stabling and housing for cattle as the Home Farm provides,
in which the cows of the Queen's Dairy are watched and

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342

ELIHU BURRITT.

tended in winter. But no farmer can walk up and down
the pavement between the stalls, look at their construc
tion, and all the arrangements for feeding, bedding, water
ing, and ventilating, without cartying away ideas that may
be turned to good account, though on a smaller and
cheaper scale. For myself, I can hardly conceive of any
thing more perfect than these arrangements. And they
are all practical, solid, and utifltarian, with little expended
on mere show. The cows were nearly all in the pasture
when I visited their stabling ; but a good number of calves
were in the stalls, or boxes, of different breeds and ages,
all looking as bright and sleek as possible. I was struck
with the eclectic character of the names they bore. The
floral and f aity kingdoms of nature, heroes and heroines
of ancient mythology, histoty, and poetty, supplied most
of this interesting nomenclature ; and this made it all the
more interesting to me to see that Uncle Tom's Cabin had
furnished two or three names, and that " Eva " and
" Topsy " had their place in the rank of chosen celebri
ties. — Walk from London to Land's End.

THE POWER OF EXPRESSION, OR BREATHING A
LIVING SOUL INTO DEAD WORDS.
" Can these dty bones live ? " asked the seer of old, on
seeing a valley strewn with them, " Can these dry bones
live ? Did they ever live ? " many a reader has asked '
of hiraself, on looking over a book-vafley filled with life
less, disjointed words. Yes, many sentences of common
place words and thin and weak ideas, which, in cold, in
animate type, seem dead to the reader, have thrilled and
stirred hundreds to the deepest emotion when listening to
them as they fell burning from the tongue. Words are

J|?

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AN ILLUSTRATION.

343

the veins, but not the vital fluid, of mental life. As in
the case of the dry bones the prophet saw, a living spirit
must pass over and through them before they glow, and
breathe, and throb with life. Spoken words are often de
livered upon the mind of the listener with the temporaty
force and impression which the written cannot produce
upon the reader. In the first place, listening to a public
speaker is a congregate exercise, and he can play upon
the sympathy of a hundred minds drinking in the same
thoughts at the same moment. Even if they were all
blind, and could not see each other's faces as they listened,
they would be conscious of the tide of feeling that the
speaker was raising in the invisible assembly. Thus he
has a peculiar advantage over the writer in this simple
sentiment of sympathy in a compact congregation of hear
ers ; for, in ninety-nine cases in a hundred, the author's
words fall upon the mind of an isolated reader without
any accessoty charm or force that the tongue can give, or
ear receive. Then, if the preacher or orator has an im
pressive or well-modulated voice, he can give to his words
a power which type cannot reproduce, or save from evan
escence. But the great, capital advantage he has over the
writer, though transient, is in the projectile force of feel
ing he can throw into his words through his voice, eyes,
face, and action. Many a speaker, by the very mesmer
ism of his own heart-power, has raised dead words from
the ground and made them electrify a great audience with
their startling life. I have seen this effect produced under
a great variety of circumstances, and with the simplest
words. I once attended a negro church service in Vir
ginia, where a large chapel was filled with slaves of evety
age. One of their fellow-members had died the week be
fore, and a colored brother on the platform was " improv
ing the occasion." He had gradually brought the congre-

P-

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344

ELIHU BURRITT.

gation to a certain level of emotion by his simple and
pathetic tribute of affectionate regard for the deceased
When he had raised them to a sympathetic point, from
which they could have easily subsided to a calmer feelin-
without new explosive force on his part, he turned himseff
half round from the audience and uttered the simple words
—"Jimmy lies dere in he grabe." Could those maimed
words hve ? a classical scholar might ask. Yes, they did
hve, with a vitality and power that might well have aston
ished the prophet who saw the dty bones sth with anima
tion. They filled the walls of the house as with a mighty
rashing wind of human emotion, with sobs of sympathy
and ejaculations of intense^ feeling. Half the audience
rose to their feet, and several men and women waved their
arms, with uprolled eyes, as if swimming up to heaven in
their ecstasy. " Jimmy lies dere in he grabe I " were the
simple words through which he produced this effect. They
were the veins through which he transfused three hundred
human hearts with the vital fluid of the feeling which fifled
his own to this passionate outburst How cold they look
m type! Who would read them with any interest above
the general sentiment which the bare statement is calcula
ted to inspire ? They come to the reader's mind in their
bald and isolated meaning, abstracted from every accessory
or surrounding circumstance that affected then utterance.
No printed words could convey an idea of that outburst
of feeling which forced itself into that simple exclamation,
of the tremor of his voice, of the expression of his coun
tenance, as the white tears ran down his black face. He
stepped to the left edge of the platform as he half turned
from the audience. He bent his form and placed a hand
on each knee ; he stretched out his neck as if to look over
the sharp edge of the grave ; for a sflent moment he trem
bled from head to foot in evety joint and in evety hair of

jr

REV. JOHN BURNET.

345

M

his head ; then, with a voice tremulous with melting pathos,
as if his tears were dropping upon the dead face of their
departed friend, he sobbed out, " Jimmy lies dere in he
grabe 1 " Never before did I hear six words uttered with
such a projectile force of feeling, or that produced such an
effect upon an audience.
Another instance I will notice to illustrate the effect
which mere heart-power in the speaker may give, even to
words that they may have no intellectual meaning to an
audience. The Peace Congress in Paris, in 1849, was per
haps the first public meeting in France in which French,
English, Americans, Germans, Spaniards, and Italians ever
assembled together to discuss principles and topics in
which they felt a common interest. Those of us especially
who had labored for months to bring about this great re
union were much exercised with doubt as to the result of
assembling within the same walls, and on the same plat
form, hearers and speakers who did not understand each
other's language. This doubt was increased by the appre
hension of one or two French members of the Committee
of Arrangements, that many of their counttymen, after lis
tening for a few minutes to an English speech they could not
understand, would arise and leave the house, out of sheer
weariness of mind. Richard Cobden was the only English-
speaking member who could address the assembly in
French. So, when our first orator arose to speak, we
watched, from the platform, the faces of the French audit
ors with lively concern. It was the Rev. John Bumet of
London, a man of much genius and power as a speaker
with a flow and a glow of rich Irish wit and accent which
always made him a great favorite at home. He had not
proceeded a minute before we could perceive the action of
the subtle force of sympathy upon the French portion of
the assembly. Although not one in ten could understand

346

ELIHU BURRITT.

the meaning of his words in print they came to them from
his lips with a force of feeling that affected them deeply.
And when, in the middle of his speech, he brought out
a noble sentiment towards their nation, the whole English
and American portion of the audience arose and gave three
great cheers, that made the roof tremble. From that mo
ment to the end of the last session the electric current of
sympathy between speaker and hearer was complete, even
without intelligible language as a conductor. On the sec
ond day, when an eloquent, impassioned English popular
orator was in his peroration, he threw a fervor and force
of feeling into a climax sentence which perfectly electrified
the . French audience. The whole gallety of them, at a
great distance from the platform, arose, and scores of la
dies waved their handkerchiefs in the enthusiasm of their
delight and admiration, though probably not one in twenty
could understand a word of English. I was sitting by the
side of a French member of the committee on the platform,
whom I had raet frora day to day, and knew to be unable
to read or understand English. He was swaying and
treraulous with eraotion, and the tears were coursing down
his cheeks "like rain-drops from eaves of reeds," I asked
him, in a whisper of surprise, if he understood the speaker.
" Non, raais je le comprends ici " (" No, but I understand
him here "), said he, laying his hand upon his heart. Here
was a striking illustration of the heart-power that may be
thrown into common words, for those that produced this
wonderful effect would not move any thoughtful reader
when cold and laid out in type.
Still, notwithstanding the advantage the orator or
speaker possesses in being able to breathe a living soul
into dry words, to give them, as it were, his own eyes, face,
voice, and action, the writer often wields a higher power,
because it is everlasting and unchanging. Men have writ-

EMOTIONAL TRAINING.

347

ten, who, from their lightning-tipped pens, have thrown
into a few simple words a current of electric feeling which
has shot through forty centuries and a hundred human
generations, thrilling the sympathies of men of almost
evety race, tongue, and age. There is the cty of tender
and manly distress which Esau uttered at the knees of his
old blind father, when he lifted up his voice and wept, arid
said, in broken articulation, " Bless me also, O my father ! "
All the intervening centuries, and all the moral mutations
affecting humanity, have* not attenuated the pulse of those
words. Whoever wrote them threw into them a projectile
force of feeling that will thrill the last reader that perases
them on earth. Judah's plea for Benjamin before Joseph,
inEgypt, young David's words to Saul on going forth to
meet Goliah, and his lament over Absalom, have an in-
¦ breathed life and power which will last as long as human
language. Even what may be called artificial feeling has given
written words a power that has moved millions for more
than two thousand years. All the theaters built and filled
in Greece, Rome, France, England, and America origina
ted in this inbreathing power, which actors, trained high
in emotional education, could throw into sentences penned
by some quiet writer, perhaps, in his garret or kitchen.
How these great tragedians have walked through the book-
valleys of dry words and breathed thera into thrilling life 1
" What is he to Hecuba, or Hecuba to him ? " What ?
why all that Hecuba was to herself in the wildest storm-
bursts of her grief. His tears, though counterfeit, were as
wet as hers. His heart played the bitter discords of woe
upon its torn or twisted strings as sadly as hers. His
voice broke with the sobbing cadences of sorrow as touch-
ingly as hers. His face and fonn quivered with all the ago
nies of her despair. If she had stood up before the audi

ta

348

ELIHU BURRITT.

ence in all the affecting personality of her experience, she
could not have acted out her distress and grief with more
life and power.
It is true these trained actors of feeling avail themselves
of other accessories than their emotional or elocutionary
faculties. They enhance the force and effect of their im
personations by various kinds of scenic auxiliaries to give
them all the vividness of real life. But many of them,
without any of the trappings of the stage, have breathed a
power into simple and famfliar words which has made the
hearts of listeners almost stand stfll in the intensity of
their sympathy. I conclude with one illustration of this
faculty. The Lord's Prayer contains sixty-five simple words, and
no other threescore-and-five have ever been together on so
many human lips. For a thousand years they have been
the household, the cradle words of Christendom. Chil
dren innumerable, in both hemispheres, have been taught
to say them in their first lessons in articulate speech.
They have been the prayer of all ages and conditions ;
uttered by mitered bishops in grand cathedrals, and lisped
by poor men's chfldren, with closed eyes, in cots of straw
at night. The feet of forty generations, as it were, have
passed over them, untfl, to some indifferent minds, their
life may seem to have been trodden out of them. Indeed,
one often hears them from the pulpit as if they were worn
out by repetflion, A few pretentiously-educated minds
may even ask their secret thoughts, " Can these dty words
live ? " Yes, they have been made to live with overpower
ing vitality.
J. Brutus Booth, the celebrated tragedian, was a man who
threw into his impersonations an amount of heart and soul
which his originals could scarcely have equaled. He did
Richard III. to the life, and raore. He had raade human

J, BRUTUS BOOTH.

349

passions, emotions, and experiences his Ifle's study. He
could not only act, hut feel rage, love, despair, hate, am
bition, fury, hope, and revenge with a depth and force that
haff amazed his auditors. He could transmute hhnself
into the hero of his impersonation, and he could breathe *
a power into other men's written words which perhaps was
never surpassed. And, what is rather remarkable, when
he was inclined to give illustrations of this faculty to pri
vate circles of friends, he nearly always selected some
passage from Job, David, or Isaiah, or other holy men of
old. When an aspiring young professor of Harvard Uni
versity went to him by night to ask a little advice or in
struction in qualifying himself for an orator, the veteran
tragedian opened the Bible and read a few verses from
Isaiah in a way that made the Cambridge scholar tremble
with awe, as ii the prophet had risen from the dead and
were uttering his sublime visions in his ears. He was then
residing in Baltimore, and a pious, urbane old gentieman
of the city, hearing of his wonderful power of elocution,
one day invited him to dinner, although strongly deprecat
ing the stage and all theatrical performances. A large
corapany sat down to the table; and on returning to the
drawing-room, one of them requested Booth, as a special
favor to them all, to repeat the Lord's Prayer. He signi
fied his willingness to gratify them, and all eyes were fixed
upon him. He slowly and reverentially arose from his
chair, trembling with the burden of two great conceptions.
He had to realize the character, attributes, and presence
of the Almighty Being he was to address. He was to
transform himself into a poor, sinning, stumbling, be
nighted, needy suppliant, — offering homage, asking bread,
pardon, light and guidance. Says one of the company
present " It was wonderful to watch the play of emotions
that convulsed his countenance. He became deathly pale,
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ELIHU BURRITT.

and his eyes, turned tremblingly upwards, were Wet with
tears. As yet he had not spoken. The sflence could be
felt ; it had become absolutely painful, until at last the
spell was broken as if by an electric shock, as his rich-toned
voice, from white lips, syllabled forth ' Our Father which
art in heaven,' etc., with a pathos and fervid solemnfly that
thrilled all hearts. He finished ; the sflence continued ;
not a voice was heard nor a muscle moved in his rapt au
dience, untfl, from a remote corner of the room, a subdued
sob was heard, and the old gentleman, the host, stepped
forward, with streaming eyes and tottering frame, and
seized Booth by the hand. ' Sir,' said he, in broken ac
cents, ' you have 'afforded me a pleasure for which my
whole future life wfll feel grateful. I am an old man, and
evety day from boyhood to the present time I thought I
had repeated the Lord's Prayer ; but I never heard it be
fore, never I ' ' You are right' replied Booth : ' to read
that prayer as it should be read caused me the severest
study and labor for thirty years, and I am far from being
satisfied with my rendering of that wonderful production.
Hardly one person in ten thousand comprehends how
much beauty, tenderness, and grandeur can be condensed
in a space so small, and in words so simple. That prayer
itself sufficiently illustrates the truth of the Bible, and
stamps upon it the seal of divinity.' So great was the
effect produced," says our informant, " that conversation
was sustained but a short time longer, in subdued mono
syllables, and almost entirely ceased ; and soon after, at an
early hour, the company broke up and retired to their
several homes, with sad faces and full hearts,"
" Can these words live ? " Let any man who thinks, and
almost says, that they have lost their life by repetition,
ask any one of the company that listened to Mr. Booth
on that evening to say what is his opinion on the question.

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LICHFIELD CATHEDRAL.

351

But some conscientious persons may possibly object that
the effect he produced was dramatic ; that he only gave
to the words the force of artificial or acted feeling. Sup
pose this be granted: if artificial or counterfeit feeling
could produce such effect, what impression ought not
genuine emotion, in the utterance of that simple and beau
tiful prayer, to produce on an audience ?

LICHFIELD.— ITS CATHEDRAL AND GREAT MEN.
Lichfield is the clasp-jewel of the gold-and-green
embroidered zone of the Black Countty. Its cathedral *
is an edifice of which a whole nation might be proud, if
possessing no other monument of beautiful architecture.
The centuty-plant that puts forth its white blossom only
at the end of a hundred years, has its special reputation
and place in the floral kingdom. This Staffordshire
cathedral is a mfllennium plant which has unfolded the
exquisite petals and leaves of its great and beautiful
blossom of architecture at the end of ten centuries of
steady growing. Tradition claims it to have been planted
by King Os-wy, twelve hundred years ago, on soil watered
by the blood of Christian martyrs under Diocletian. The
city takes its name from this tradition, which signifies
' Aceldama, or Field of Corses.
It would have been a good and thoughtful act on the
part of past generations if they had preserved for us at
* Mr. Burritt was greatly interested in examining the great cathe
drals of Europe, and this selection is given as indicating his interest,
and descriptive power.

I'JItt

IL^' JfS'.'

dlKt

¦- -^, V -^
I
.1
J
Lichfield Cathedral.
A CITY OF STEEPLES.
353
least one completely Saxon cathedral of the earliest strac
ture in England ; for instance, one like that built here by
King Oswy in the middle of the seventh centuty. Doubt
less fl was as large as a modern one-stoty chapel, with
wattle walls and thatched roof. That was the germ of
this magnificent fabric. It grew slowly in the ice-storms
and wfld tempests of those Saxon centuries. The village
planted around it was vety small and grew slowly and
feebly. Even as late as towards the close of the eleventh
century, the little church was so small, and mean in struc
ture and accommodation, that the bishop transferred the
see to Chester, and his successor carried it to Coventty.
But bishop Clinton, about fifty years later, brought it
back to Lichfield, and began, on the site of the old
Saxon building, the present edifice. He seems to have
been the first architectural Solomon that put hand to the
work with some of Solomon's eye to beauty and grandeur.
For ten times the length of time occupied in erecting the
famous Jewish Temple has this of Christian worship been
in building. And, on studying all the features of its
exterior and interior symmetries, one might well feel that
four hundred years were not too long a period for produc
ing the fabric to its present perfection. If such a build
ing could be erected in a century, to the finest and last
line of the sculptor's chisel, even an amateur of archi
tecture might walk up and down under its lofty arches
and roofage with but a forced sentiraent of veneration.
But the rime of age and histoty, which six hundred years
have breathed upon its gray forests of columns, pillars,
and carved work, produces upon a thoughtful mind an
impression which no artistic architecture, however grand,
can create without such associations.
Lichfield looks like a little city of steeples on approach
ing it in any direction. The tall spire of one of the
30'*
"W^.

354

ELIHU BURRITT.

:hurches, neariy half a mile from the cathedral, seems to
irise from one of the towers of the great edifice, making
"our of graceful proportions that stand up in the heavens
ike the spangled minarets of a county's crown. Indeed,
lot until you are within the city itself do you find this
¦ourth spire detached and standing on its own church
:owen Near the cathedral, on the city side, there is a
nng, wide pool of water, almost a littie lake, which serves
IS a mirror in which you see the three spires and the
jpper part of the grand edifice photographed as large
ind true as life. Bm, unhappily for the picture and the
fancy, there is a row of plain brick houses between you
md the cathedral, and these too are looking at their
homely faces in the water ; and as their red walls reach
up half-way to the eaves of the magnificent stracture, the
latter looks like a queen standing in full court robes at a
mirror with a dumpy countty milkmaid in a red woolen
petticoat just before, blflnding her peasant form and dress
in the same reflection.
This cathedral perhaps suffered more than any other in
England during the Civil War ; and mostly for the reason
that it was more strongly fortified. One of its bishops,
Langton, had surrounded it with a strong wall and a foss,
giving it the attitude of an embattled castle as well as a
Christian church — a strength which proved its weakness
and half destruction. Being found in the armor of carnal
warriors, they put it on for the battle, and church and all
suffered sadly as the result The cathedral was garri
soned like a castle for King Charles t., and was taken
and retaken, battered and rebattered by the contending
forces. It shows one of the horrible features of a civil
war that both Royalists and Parliamentarians could have
the heart to point their cannon at such an edifice. In
the course of one bombardment, the great central spire.

DAMAGE TO THE CATHEDRAL.

355

i

the apex of the splendid triangle, was shorn off close to
the roof. The Puritans come in for severe condemnation
for their conduct towards afl that was then held so sacred ;
and all the defacing of sculpture, the mutilating of marble
noses, and the destruction of carved images are generally
laid to their charge. They, doubtless, did have a religious
repugnance to all graven images, even of good men and
women, and regarded them as under the ban of the second
commandment ot the Decalogue. It is quite possible
that they have been made to bear many of the sins of the
Cavaliers and Royalists in this respect. Between the
two, Lichfield Cathedral was left a splendid rain. It had
verified in its experience the truth of the declaration,
" They that take the sword shall perish by the sword."
Its wall and foss, instead of protection, brought great
desolation upon it. But these were speedily repaired
after the Restoration, under Bishop Hacket; who not
only gave munificently from his. private means, but induced
the nobflity, gentty, and clergy of the diocese to follow
his example.
During the Civfl War the stained glass in the windows
of the cathedral was totally destroyed, either out of wan
tonness or for the lead mouldings in which it was encased.
This was a sad calamity.to the eyes and hearts of aU
devout mediaevalists. What was to be. done ? — to sew
new bits of cassimere into the rents of the venerable
robe ? to put young, brand new eyes into the eye-sockets
five centuries old, to stare in the face of such solemn and
august antiquities ? The idea was repugnant, almost pro
fane, to all true lovers of the Gothic order of religious
worship. Happily they were not obliged to submit to
this repulsive alternative. It was an ill wind of violence
that had battered and broken the windows of the Lichfield
cathedral ; but a wind equally violent and destractive had

'A

356

ELIHU BURRITT.

blown upon convents and other religious houses on the
Continent There was a great amount and variety of
stained glass to be found in the wreck of abbeys, of the
best antiquity and imagery.
Sir Brooke Boothby, traveling in Germany, visited the
dissolved Abbey of Herckenrode, founded in 1182, and
ornamented with the choicest specimens of the glass-
staining art which the great masters of the sixteenth cen
tuty could produce. He succeeded in buying up a good
portion of this glass, consisting of 340 pieces, each about
twenty-two inches square, besides a large quantity of
tracery and fragments, at the low figure of ^^200, and
transferred the purchase to the Dean and Chapter of the
cathedral. It was a good bargain for them, as the amount
purchased, estimated at the standard at which continental
convent glass was afterwards sold in England, was worth
;^io,ooo. The whole expense of this beautiful glass
bought by Sir Brooke Boothby, including transportation,
arranging, and fitting into the windows, was only ;^i,ooo.
It was sufficient to fill seven of the large windows in the
Lady Choir, or Chancel, the other two being supplied by
modern productions. Thus the stained windows of the
old Herckenrode Abbey, that for centuries looked down
upon continental monks at their worship and vibrated to
their Latin chants, now flood all the aisles, arches, and
delicate traceries of this English cathedral with the haloed
smile of their eyes.
Having visited all the cathedrals of Great Britain, and
studied thera with all the interest of American admiration
for such structures, I am inclined to believe that this
exceeds all others- in the quality of beauty, both in its
exterior and interior structure and embellishraent. After
Hawthorne's exquisite description of it in " Our Old
Home," it may seem presumption in me to attempt another.

VOLUNTARY CONTRIBUTIONS.

' '¦ S''.

357

But as this volume may be read by some who. have not
seen his, I will dwell a little longer upon two or three
features of the edifice. It illustrates, more fully than any
other that I know, the power and almost immeasurable
capacity of the voluntary principle in England. Let any
intelligent person see what that principle has produced
here, and then compare the result with the production of
the same principle in the Cologne Cathedral, and he will
be deeply irapressed by the contrast He wfll see what
a community educated in benevolence can accomplish by
their voluntaty contributions. Here they have produced
and beautified a magnificent fabric, and filled it with
treasures of exquisite art.
The cathedral at Cologne belongs not only to Prussia but
to the whole of Germany. The vety founder and first Em
peror, Charlemagne, was entombed in it. No other
building is the center and attraction of so many German
associations. For nearly a thousand years it has been
rising under the thin, trickling streams of German con
tributions. But the builders, with these small means,
have hardly been able to outstrip the slow feet of time
and to fill its deforming footsteps. While working at one
end of the cathedral the other is falling to ruin. Time
seems to be chasing them from one end to another, defac
ing their work as they creep on with the slow centuries.
But look at Lichfield Cathedral. Two hundred years ago
it was almost a ruin — its windows and roofage broken, its
central spire battered down, and its carved work defaced
and mangled. A sentiment stronger than even patriotism,
an association more enduring than ever attached to a
great emperor, has rebuilt the desolated edifice, and
beautified it with trophies and treasures of art which Sol
omon's sculptors and workers in iron, brass, and wood
could not produce for his Temple. The people of the

158

ELIHU BURRITT.

listrict have been made wifling in the power of this sen-
iment The wealth of their contributions, if they could
)e reduced to the low standard of a money value, would
how how they prize this great heir-loom of past genera-
ions. In renovating and embellishing, the blending of
he ages has been accomplished very happily. One has
leen softened into the other delicately, making almost a
eamless whole of beauty. Even the latest additions of
ron lace-work harmonize with carvings in wood and stone
lenturies old. Two of these are really master-pieces of
irtistic design and mechanical skill. The screen which
livides the choir from the nave was wrought by Mr. Skid-
nore of Coventty. It resembles a thin hedge of tressed
jlackberry tendrfls, leafed to the life, interspersed with
;eed-vessels of the wild rose and currant, and strawberry
)lossoms, so natural and graceful that one might fancy
hat they could almost breathe forth the odor of green
ife upon the music of the choir. The arched gateway of
his hedge of metal shrubbery is an exquisite work of art
sixteen shining angels, back to back, stand among the
opmost boughs and blossoms of this floral wall, eight
acing the singers in the choir and eight the congregation
n the nave, — forming an angelic band of singers, sur-
fliced in gold, keeping time with harp and voice, appar-
mtly, with the human choristers in white robes below and
he voices of all the worshipers of the great assembly.
This idea is wrought out to all the perfection that art
;ould give it.
The pulpit has no equal in England of the same species
)f work. It is a gem well set It is entirely of metal,
)ut is so perfectly constructed and placed that you notice
10 sharp contrast between it and the carver's work in
;tone and wood around and above. It looks like a great
flossom of all the shining metals, lifting up its self-

y*f.

TllE REREDOS, OR ALTAR-BACK.

359

wreathed cup on four twisted stems of polished brass.
"This goblet wrought with curious art" from base to
brim, is as richly embossed and ornamented as any drink
ing cup in the old King of Hanover's collection. Inter
spersed with rosettes of brilliant metal are set large
colored stones and enamels. And the whole of this
artistic structure presents a softened aspect so that at a
littie distance, no sense of iron, or hard incongruity of
substance, affects your impression in taking the great
whole of nave, transept choir, column, and carved work
into one view.
But the master-piece of -all these modern embellish
ments is the reredos, or altar-back. I am inclined to
think this is Gilbert Scott's chef d'ceuvre, which he wifl
never surpass, even with this work as a base of suggestion.
In the first place, the body of the reredos is of the purest
alabaster, taken from the Tutbuty quarty in the same
county. Into this delicate ground are wrought all kinds
of precious stones, such as the lapis lazuli, carnelian,
and malachite. The whole surface is most elaborately
inlaid with variously colored marbles ; one of which,
called the "Duke's Red," contributed by the Duke of
Devonshire from his estate, is pre-eminently brilliant.
The back side of the reredos presents a more softened
aspect but one full of exquisfle features. It is a great
diaper, or crinkled veil of creamy or unpolished alabaster,
carved and inlaid with no less than 2,000 small pieces of
marble. The central portion of this beautiful structure,
exclusive of the wings, cost about ;^i,ooo, which was
raised by subscription among ladies specially interested
in the cathedral. If the entire edifice were a six centuty
plant possessing within itself the faculty of germination,
it could not have put forth a more natural and beautiful
efflorescence than this alabaster flower so petaled and
polished.

36o

ELlHU BURRITT.

The carved woodwork of the throne, stalls, and sub-
stalls, harmonizes well with all the other modern orna
mentations, and presents specimens of the art which
excite admiration. The pavements are equally artistic,
and full of symbolic history of the cathedral, and scrip
ture pieces happily executed. The choir was paved orig
inally with a singular material, or with a mosaic of cannel
coal and alabaster.
The statuary and monuments here have long been noted
for their surpassing excellence. I believe that Chantrey's
" Sleeping Chfldren " are regarded as his master-piece of
sculpture. Thousands have visited the cathedral chiefly
to see this work of .art, and many prose and poetical de
scriptions have been given of it It stfll holds, its repu
tation, though so many new masters have surpassed the
old in conception and execution. They represent two'
infant daughters of Rev. Wm. Robinson, one of the preb
endaries. Sleeping life could not be made niore natural.
They lie in each other's arms on a low mattress of marble,
just like one which a mother might lay by the fireplace
for a pair of twin toddlings tired with a Christmas froflc.
The very pallet in which their young cheeks are half.
buried looks as if you raight blow up wrinkles in it with
your breath. I should not wonder if, now and then, a
tender mother approaching them has softened her step
unconsciously, as if loth to wake them up out of such
sweet repose, for they look tired, not dead. Whoever
appreciates fully the genius of the sculptor to breathe
speaking life into cold marble, and give it the visible
pulse of thought and feeling, should see and study this
work of Chantrey, if he has not done so already. Bishop
Ryder stands like a flving raan with lips just stfll, after a
sermon on " God is Love." The statue is Chantrey's
very last and he had in the large-hearted and munificently-

I

LADY MONTAGUE S MONUMENT.

361

benevolent bishop an excellent subject for his chisel. He
was only fifty-nine years old when he died ; yet he had
filled the episcopal chair more than twenty years. Among
the monuments to persons who made for themselves more
than a local reputation is Lady Maty Wortley Montague's,
bearing for an inscription a testimony to the value of her
introduction of the art of inoculating the small-pox from
Turkey. " Convinced of its efficacy she first tried it with
success, on her own children and then recommended the
practice of it to her fellow-citizens. Thus, by her exam
ple and advice, we have softened the virulence and escaped
the danger of this malignant disease." Garrick has a
monument here, erected by his wife, including in the
inscription the sentiment of Johnson : " His death eclipsed
the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the public stock
of harmless pleasures." The monumental statuary of
nobility, gentty, clergy, and notabilities is generally of a
high order of sculpture, and of great variety of design.
Some of the Latin inscriptions are worth translating
entire, both for the history they contain, and for unique,
piquant expression. Eliza Rhodes, eldest daughter of
John Hutchinson, one of the dignitaries of the cathedral,
after stating that her father died at the age of ninety-four
in 1704, asks, " Do you wish to know more what good he
did ? Let this church say, let this chapter-house and all
the choir say, ' go thou and find the like.' " Bishop Hacket
who restored the cathedral after the Civil War, lies in
life-size effigy upon a lofiy table monument bearing a
long inscription in which his good works are put forth ,
very expressively. It then says : " Let us stop, therefore ;
it repays delay to know w'.-.o lies here by Langton's side.
Hacket alone is worthy to trouble Langton's ashes, by
whose pious liberality they were kept from freezing.
31

362

ELIHU BURRITT.

There lies the founder, here the restorer of Lichfield ¦
cathedral." It is left us only to conjecture why the founders of
English cathedrals and abbeys built them on such low
grounds. One would naturally think that they would
have chosen commanding eminences for the erection of
these magnificent temples of worship ; that they would
have accepted some of the everlasting hills as foundations
furnished by nature for structures which should rival
them in strength and duration. These noble monuments
of all the Christian ages of England would have made
splendid crowns of glory on such a setting. But all but
two or three are built on the level of meadow brooks.
Lin'coln and Durham stand on grand pedestals of nature,
worthy the superstructure. But Salisbury, Peterborough,
Winchester, Lichfield, and others arise from humble
levels. The nave of grand old Salisbury is sometimes
flooded at the rising of the littie river near it If the
monks and other ecclesiastics lived more on fish than
their successors of the present day, surely they would not
have erected their great religious edifices on the low
banks of the streams merely to save them ten minutes'
walk with their hooks and nets. Nor could it be said
that there was any necessity for hiding their abbeys and
cathedrals for fear of any violence from the populations
of the districts ; for not only the whole civil power of the
realm was in their hands, but they were regarded as half-
divine beings by the peasantry and higher ranks.
But structures of wider reputation than the cathedrtil
have been founded and erected in Lichfield. It has
given physical or intellectual birth to men of a stature of
mind that has overlooked the tallest of the three cathe
dral spires, and cast a luminous shadow over two hemi
spheres. Can any other town so small in England boast

SAMUEL JOHNSON.

363

like this flat-footed littie city, of giving birth, first shaping,
or residence to four such men as Johnson, Addison, Gar
rick, and Ashmole? Samuel Johnson! — a nation that
could bufld fifty cathedrals in ten years would need a
century for building such another man as he was to the
world of mind and thought. Here, as you stand by his
monument in the market-place, with several of the most
touching incidents of his life carved in the stone, you
feel yourself standing in the disk of a living and immor
tal reputation — more than a reputation; more than the
illuminated shadow of a great memoty. It is a sensible
and commanding presence ; it is a great individuality that
absorbs and covers the whole city. What a life was that
from the first baby battles of the flttie cripple with the
rough goblins of misfortune that barred his pathway, to
his glorious bringing up into that haven of triumph to
which, after the tempests and storms of the wild sea of
troubles he had braved. Lord Chesterfield sent out his
cock-boat of insolent patronage to escort him ! Who can
estimate the worth to struggling genius of the sturdy
wrestles of this bookseller's son with grim and glowering
adversities? He left something more than "footprints
on the sands of time," He left foot-holdings and foot-
posts for the men wrestling with the surges of misfortune,
and many a half-drowned straggler has reached the sunny
shore of fame and fortune by taking hold of the s'kirts of
his great example.
Sorae one would do a good service to all coming gen
erations by simply giving to them the consecutive chain
of his experiences, just as they were linked to his life,
and by doing it in a series of pictures, or illustrations,
graven in stone, after the manner of his monument in
the Lichfield market-place. There was his chfldhood's
wrestie for learning, borne to school on the back of some

364

ELIHU BURRITT.

generous and stronger school-mate. That is a picture in
the stone touching to see. Then his Oxford struggle
would make another. When, like Bunyan's pilgrim, he
had waded through sloughs of difficulty and despond, and
had got almost within hand's reach of the wicket gate of
the great goal of his hopes, Poverty, flke a Giant Despair,
clutched him and buried him back from the temple of
learning into the bitter vicissitudes of indigence. In his
patient and baffled attempts to climb again, we find him
in busy, noisy Birmingham, translating, in the din and
dim of its mechanical industries, Lobo's account of
Abyssinia. Pie lived for a time with a printer here, and
gave to the public probably the first literary production
that ever went to the press from the metropolis of the
Black Countty, How little know the masses of the great
town that it ever had such a man wrestling his way in it
to a fame wider than a hemisphere ! Still it must have
been well known and appreciated in his' day, for I have
recently seen a half-penny token bearing the iraage of the
great writer and his name, struck in 1783, the year before
his death.
Here, too, lived a man who ought to have left a more
definite history ; for he was one whom Johnson held to
the last in boyhood's affection, and often honored with
his company. His name was Edmund Hector, and the
house in which he lived and received frequently the great
man as his guest is still standing in the Old Square. It
is now a portion of the " Stork " hotel, and bears the
following inscription carved in a tablet over the door :
"HERE IN THIS HOUSE
SAMUEL JOHNSON
WAS THE GUEST,
EDMUND HECTOR
WAS THE HOST.
OF THIS HOST THIS GUEST HAS WRITTEN ;

JOSEPH ADDISON.

365

' HECTOR IS LIKEWISE AN OLD FRIEND, THE ONLY
COMPANION OF MY CHILDHOOD THAT PASSED
THROUGH THE SCHOOL WITH ME; WE HAVE
ALWAYS LOVED ONE ANOTHER.'
THIS STONE, BY LEAVE OF THE OWNER OF THE HOUSE,
WILLIAM SCHOLEFIELD, ESQ., M. P., WAS PUT UP BY THE
MEMBERS OF ' OUR SHAKESPERE CLUB ' OF -
BIRMINGHAM, A. D. 1865."
He married Mrs. Porter in Birmingham, whose fortune
of i]"8oo enabled him to set up a school near Lichfield.
That experience would make another good subject for
painter or sculptor. The picture of himself and his
three scholars, including flttie Davy Garrick, would show
well with all the other painted passages of his life. How
many stately tomes would we not give in exchange for
the conversations between him and his illustrious pupil
which decided them to go up together and try their for
tunes in London 1 Indeed there is hardly a life ever
lived in England that would present more passages of
varied interest and instruction than that of Samuel John
son. And Lichfield, to its credit holds the dignity of
his birth as the first of its crown jewels. Many relics of
his residence are preserved and treasured with a lively
sense of their value ; and, if you will do it reverently, you
may sit for a thoughtful moment in his arm-chair and
handle his cane.
Although Addison was not born in Lichfield, he must
have received a good deal of shaping culture of his raind
there. His father, a learned, accomplished, sharp-witted
man, had already attained to high distinction before he
¦was appointed dean of Lichfield Cathedral, which was in
1683, when he was about fifty years of age. As his illus
trious son Joseph entered college at Oxford in 1687, he
must have resided with his father in Lichfield several
years before and many after his collegiate course. At
31*

366

ELIHU BURRITT.

THE ENGLISH DAY.

367

least, the littie city claims him as one of her sons, per
haps mostly on the ground that his father's grave is with
them unto this day. In the long Latin inscription of his
father's monument in the cathedral, his own name and
memory are blended in the closing sentence with a filial
tribute to what he owed to his parent's qualities and
example. It reads thus, translated as literally as possible,
consistent with the full sense intended to be expressed :
"AN HONOUR OF HIS AGE,
FROM HIM HIS ELDEST SON JOSEPH
RECEIVED HIS EXTRAORDINARY NATURAL GIFTS,
HIS PURE HABITS, HIS GOODWILL TO MEN, PIETY TO GOD,
AND EVERY OTHER BRILLIANT PATRIMONY ;
WHO, WHILE HE WOULD HAVE ERECTED THIS MONUMENT
TO HIMSELF IN COMPANIONSHIP OF HIS EXCELLENT PARENT,
WAS CALLED AWAY BY SUDDEN DEATH, A.D, I719."
Thus Addison died comparatively young, or at the age
- of forty-seven, when- Johnson was only ten years old. He
was born to fortune and fame, and the road to both was
strewn with flowers. Had he passed through some of
Johnson's experience, his mind perhaps would have gained *
in vigor if it lost somewhat in polish. Ashmole preceded
Addison, and if he did not acquire a literary reputation
that has endured to the present time, he founded a
museum at Oxford that bears his name, and contains the
collection of curiosities he made in his life-time. Many
other names of mark are associated with Lichfield, and
the little city has contributed a contingent to the great
Enghsh array of preachers, teachers, and writers of which
it raay well be proud.— Walks in the Black Country.

^

PEACE JUBILEE.
The English Day.
There has been no day in the life of the American
nation marked by such peculiar interest as the " English
Day," * at the great Peace Jubilee in Boston. It was not
the grand music that made it surpass, in several most
happy characteristics, the other days of the long banquet
of the world's best melodies. There were histories, mem
ories, associations, and coincidences that gave to the
music of those hours a power and effect which twenty
thousand trained voices and instruments could not alone
produce upon the vast assembly. There were profounder
meanings than these alone could express, to be translated
into the silent language of the heart by all who witnessed
that scene with the attentive faculties of reflection. It
was a scene of sublime representation, as well as the most
multitudinous concert of human voices ever heard on earth.
A great histoty was enacted as a variation in the loftiest
songs that human and metal lips could raise. At this
gathering of the nations, two stood, face to face, in a rela
tionship that can never bind two others together by ties
so strong and many, by memories so mutual, proud, and
precious. The mother and daughter stood there, looking
* Multitudes, in Europe as well as America, will appreciate Mr.
Burritt's description of the day set apart as the " English Day" at the
great Peace Jubilee in Boston in 1872. The huge building— the Coli
seum — was erected for the special purpose of holding a " World's
Peace Jubilee and International Musical Festival." There was a
chorus of 20,000 voices, embracing 165 societies, led by the Handel
and Hayden of Boston. Orchestral parts were about 2,000 in num
ber, including 27 brass bands, etc. The occasion was one of unusual
interest to Mr. Burritt, and will never be forgotten by the thousands
who were present. — Ed.

368

ELIHU BURRITT.

mto each other's faces, with the history of a hundred 3-ears
between them,-a century, lacking but a little, between
them and the last of the years when the same parental
roof-tree covered them both. One could feel that the
common memories that reached across the narrow space
between, and dwelt on those years of childhood and
motherhood in their common home, made not a "mourn
ful," but a happy and tender " rustle " in the hearts of
evety thoughtful American and Englishman under that
vast roofage. This sentiment gave to the thousands of
voices that hafled the opening moment of this scene the
inspiration of a sympathy that seemed to thrill the build
ing itself.
It was a moment that only those present could feel and
remember in its full inspiration. The first day of the
pentecost of music had put the choral mountain of sing
ers, and all the varied singing and instruments of melody,
mto their best tune for these English hours. The Jubi
lee had opened with that grandest of all tunes that ever
lifted the praise of human hearts and lips into the ears
of God— Old Hundred. Never before on earth was it
sung with such heart and power, and never, perhaps,
until it is sung anew by the sacramental hosts in heaven,
wfll it be so sung again. The effect was indescribable!
No figures nor parallels of speech could give one who did
not hear fl any idea of the impression it made upon the
thousands who sang, and the thousands who listened.
All the doxologies of the two Englands, Old and New,
for a hundred years, seemed to respond with their soft
and soleran echoes, and mingled with the flood of molten
voices that rolled up and down the choral mountain,
ascending, widening, .deepening, strengthening, until its
waves of sympathy beat against the lofty roofage of the
edifice, and made the pendant flags of all nations keep

THE ENGLISH DAY.

369

time in fluttering sympathy with the inspiration. If Old
Hundred may well be called the Marseillaise for the hosts
of the Christian world to sing on their march "to the
battles of the Lord against the mighty," "Nearer, my
God, to Thee," was a song equally happy to close the
first day's feast of music ; and if music alone could lift
a human congregation nearer to God, then none ever
assembled on earth could have been raised higher than
the multitude who listened to that favorite hymn, in which
all, from one end of the building to the other, mingled
their voices.
This first day of the feast was one virtually of rehearsal
and preparation for singers and listeners, tuning their
lips, ears, and hearts for the morrows that were to follow.
Twenty thousand voices, that had given their sweetest
music to the Sabbath devotions of hundreds of New Eng
land churches, had poured their best notes, for the first
time, into one swelling flood of melody ; and the flood
had upborne them to an inspiration of heart and tongue
which had never before thrilled the same number of
human singers. Such was the preparation for the Eng
lish Day. There was not a man or woman in the sides
of that choral mountain who did not know and appreciate
the affinities, histories, and memories that were to make
the English Day differ from all that were to follow it at
the festival. When, therefore, the file-leader of the Brit
ish Grenadier Band emerged frora under the great organ,
heading "the thin red line" that slowly threaded the
raountainous orchestra to its base before the great multi
tude, there was a scene, as well as acclamation, which it
would have done the hearts of the two great nations good
to have witnessed and heard with their millions. The
thousands who saw and heard for them grasped the
whole significance of the scene and the moment to the

370

ELIHU BURRITT.

full meaning and inspiration of all the histories, memo
ries, and associations they brought to life. England, and
her queen, and her historical centuries, and all our proud
inheritance in them, stood there before us in that red line
of men, in tall bear-skin caps, facing the palpitating,
fluttering mountain of singers. The cheering multitude
behind them rolled back the flood of acclamation that
rose and swelled from floor to roof, and made the vast
building tremulous with the emotion of thirty thousand
human hearts, all stirred to the sarae sentiment of wel
come and delight.
Of course there were minutes of multitudinous cheer
ing, with thirty thousand men and women on their feet
with waving of -handkerchiefs, which preceded the first
note from that "thin red line." There was space in
these intervening minutes for the thoughts of other and
many years ; for the incidents, coincidents, and associa
tions of the scene and hour. This British band of musi
cians had marched into Boston on the very day, almost a
century gone, when their countrymen marched, in their
red, brave lines, up the slopes of Bunker Hfll, reddened
by the first conflict that sundered the English speaking
race in the twain of separate nations. This vety hour,
the same space between, hundreds of English soldiers,
who fell on that day, were being laid in a thin, red line,
in a soldier's grave. They fought and fell in the very
uniform worn by their grandchildren before us. They
had charged up those embattled heights in the sarae tall
bear-skin caps. The thoughtful minutes were full of
memories and associations that reached into the histories
of the whole family of nations, and which the scene
brought home to our reflections with the freshness of
yesterday's events. This day, fifty-seven years ago, the
fathers of , the red-coated band before us marched away

MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS.

371

from the field of Waterloo, at the head of the British
army, filling the air of heaven with their grandest strains
of victory. And here now stood their sons, in the same
uniform, and stalwart solid stature, before us, awaiting
a lull in the tempest of cheers to pour forth the mellow
music of human brotherhood. Here were the rival bands
of France and Germany to listen, with the great multitude,
to the British overture, and to respond with their best
music, each in the day set apart to its nation.
It needed but a minute, for a mind awake to the inspi
ration of the scene, to bring all these historical incidents
and associations to a vivid focus of view and reflection.
Out of the midst of these, in living presence, the band
leader now gave the signal. As if all these instru
ments had but one breath, their voices poured out a flood
of music, so pure, and sweet, and full, that even to call
it silvery would suggest a metallic cadence which would
not do it justice. Indeed, to common ears it would seem
impossible that brass, silver, or gold could be trained to
such music of tongue that the natural accents of neither
could be recognized in the highest tides of their sym
phony. At their loftiest reach, bugles, cornets, clarionets,
and every other instrament blended in such a soft volume
of utterance that it sounded almost with a plaintive
cadence, and this quality was well fitted to feast a lively
imagination with pleasant fancies. As the tall grenadiers
stood at the base of that choral mountain, facing its tow
ering heights of spell-bound thousands, they seemed to
be rehearsing the experiences of the common mother
country since the day when her eldest daughter went out
to set up a home of her own. They seemed to be telling
a mother's story to such a daughter, not proudly, but
gently and tenderly, with a mother's voice, as soft as ever
with her first affection. It sounded like a stoty here and

372

ELIHU BURRITT.

there wet with a falling tear, and tremulous with a sigh at
some sad memory that mingled with the thought of inter
vening years. Then, as if the whole choral host had been
touched to deepest sympathy with the sentiment of the
stoty, they rose suddenly to their feet to respond to it
Their response seemed a spontaneous and instantaneous
.utterance of that sympathy. Its words seemed to come
;to their lips, as naturally as the smfle to their eyes, at the
first outburst of those enrapturing strains. At such a
moment they could not, nor could a soul in the great
multitude, have thought of any other responding words
tiian " God save the Queen."
Never since queens began to reign on earth was the
English National Anthem sung by so many human
tongues and hearts under one roof. Nowhere under the
British scepter, though the linked continents and islands
that own its sway shall belt the great globe itself, will
that anthem be so sung again. Here, in sight of Bunker
Hill, and on the very anniversaty of that memorable day
in our common history, the granddaughter of George the
Third received the grandest choral ovation that ever
honored a human sovereign on earth. Twenty-five thou
sand American hearts, and nearly as many of their voices,
mingled in the uprising flood, as the one " voice of many
waters." All the vast instrumentalities that human skill
could train to musical utterance seemed touched with
spontaneous inspiration. The great organ, played by tiller
rods as long as a steamship's keel, put in the emphasis
of its mighty bass, and scores of brass cannon, whose,
swift keys were touched by electric nerves, like the wires
of a piano, beat time with the accents of their deep and
mellow thunder. Up and down the mountain orchestra
and out upon the human sea rolled the ground swell of
the anthem. Anon Gilmore, the Napoleon of the Jubilee,

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.

373

leaned over on one foot and smote with his wand at this
side and that of' the vocal mountain, like another Moses
at Horeb, and a deepening torrent of melody gushed out
into the careering flood. How many thousands in that
sublime moment wished that Queen Victoria had been
present in person, to hear how American lips and hearts
could sing that anthem !
But the climax of ecstasy had not yet been reached.
Seemingly as spontaneous as "God save the Queen"
had been the response to the overture of the Grenadier
Band— we all knew that it was so put down in the pro
gramme. As natural and fitting as it was, its expectation
modified the pleasing effect of accidental spontaneity.
But what foflowed was as unexpected as a choral song
from the clouds. Hardly had the ebb and flow of the
National Anthem subsided into their expiring ripple, when
a sudden wave of the leaderis wand over that "thin,
red line" brought out The Star-spangled Banner in
all the proud glory that the best musical instruments in
the wide worid could give to it. It was a Roland for an
Oliver in the happiest sense of brotherhood. If "God
save the Queen" was never sung with such a concert of
heart and voice in England as here under Bunker Hfll,
fl was equally true that "The Star-spangled Banner" was
never played with such power and effect on the American
continent as it was by the British Grenadier Band, as a
response to then national anthem. No similies, or fllus-
trations, could convey in words an idea of the scene and
sentiment of that moment. The incident was as sudden
as lightning, and thrflled the vast audience like electricity.
All arose to their feet and their delight deepened into a
veritable ecstasy as the grand strains of our national
hymn filled the vast building with such a glory of music.
Twenty thousand handkerchiefs were waving to and fro,
32

374

ELIHU BURRITT.

hke SO many white doves waltzing on the wing. Deeper
richer, and grander arose the strains of those incompar
able instruments, which seemed to breathe with sponta
neous mspiration, and the very building flself appeared
to palpitate with the human emotion that deepened at
evety note, _ Never since human hymns were sung did
one follow the other with such effect upon listening
thousands. It was the happiest incident of all the festal
days of the Jubilee. No moment in the history of the
two nations could have made the incident more felicitous
beautiful, and touching. While the astute discussions of
wordy diplomacy were arraying the two governments in
dispute, the two great peoples embraced each other in
these two songs with a sense of brotherhood they never
felt before.

EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL.

THE FUGITIVE.
^ London, Nov. 27, 1846. On returning to my room
this afternoon, I found a poor negro who had escaped
from the "land of the free " as fl were by the skin of his
teeth. He had secreted himself on board of a vessel
bound from Baltimore to Rotterdam, and, after having been
out twenty-four days, was compelled to show himself to
escape starvation. The captain was highly incensed at
this surreptitious attempt in a fellow-being to gam the
God-given boon of freedom. With an oath he declared
he would return the fugitive to his house of bondage the
first opportunity that occurred, and made the half-starved,
shivering negro feel the force of his threat by putting on
his arms the peculiar jewels of our boastful republic, a
pair of iron manacles.
Fortunately he fell in with no ship bound to the "home
of the free" untfl he had nearly reached Rotterdam.
Whfle sailing up the river, the poor fettered fugitive, see
ing his chance for freedora in the last extremfly of peril,
» For many years Mr, Burritt kept a journal in which he made a
daily record of events, and many selections from this have already
been used in their appropriate place. A few pages filled from the
same source, and descriptive of certain occasions or events will, it is
believed, possess enough of interest to warrant their use. The first
o£ these selections not only illustrates the benevolence so prominent
in Mr. Burritt's character, but also reminds the reader of an institu
tion which exists only in the past of our country's history. (375)

Z7^

ELIHU BURRITT

sprang overboard and escaped to a Dutch vessel and
from this he found his way to the English consul riio iur
nished him with a passage to England. And here I met
a f llow-bemg and a fellow-countryman, with as good tit e
to freedom as myself, crouching, trembling wflh fold, and
hungry over the fire. He could hardly speak on ac ount
of a kind of phthisic brought on by liis exposure, "o^
three days he had worn his wet clothes with no opportu
nity for dtying them. He had on an old, ragged, thin
calico coat and with his head inclined toward his breast
could scarcely speak a word. He breathed with great diffi-
cufly, and his whole body was racked with fheumatic
pams. I seldom have had two overcoats at a time but
or once in my life I was in a condition to fulfill, fltemlly
the injunction of the Saviour of mankind. .1 believe I
went a littie further than the letter of the precept for I
put tiie better of my two overcoats upon the shiVerin.
fugitive. His joints were so stiff that it took two of us
to put him into the new fit. I had, fortunately, just
bought a new hat and I put my old one on his woolly
head crape and all, which I had worn in token of my moth
er s death for nearly two years. I think I shafl not be
hkely to forget her as long as "the least of these littie
ones crosses my path in such a condition.

PROROGATION OF PARLIAMENT.
July 23, 1847. This was a memorable day in my his
tory, I had received from Mr, Brotherton, M, P a ticket
of admission into the House of Lords, to witness the
ceremony of prorogation of Pariiament by the Queen I

THE queen's APPROACH,

377

bought a white neck stock, as an article of court dress,
and taking a penny steamboat I proceeded to Westmins
ter, where I found the streets alive with a thronging mul
titude, I threaded my way to the door of the House of
Lords, and, on presenting my ticket was admitted with a
kind of surprise in the looks of the door-keepers, who
thought pretty justiy, that I was hardly one they could
have expected to see with such credentials. However,
they were respectful, and I found myself, after many turn
ings, in the great hall of the building, which is fancifully
magnificent. Soon the peeresses and the peerless women of England
began to make their appearance, dressed splendidly, and
full of grace. Lords in their scarlet robes came in gradu
ally, and in the course of an hour the hall was filled with
a galaxy of the beauty and nobflity of England, and pre
sented a spectacle quite dazzling to a plain repubhcan.
Foreign ministers occupied conspicuous places, among
whom were the oriental men of state in their Turkish and
East Indian costumes.
As the clock struck two, the booming cannon announced
that the Queen had left the palace, and was on her way
to the House. Expectation and the cloud of expectants
were on tiptoe. The cannon boomed away more distinctly,
and in a few minutes the whole host of beauty were on
their feet. I could, for a time, see nothing, as several
serried, ranks of ladies intercepted the sight of the throne.
The multitude soon resumed a more quiet attitude, and I
effected a passage for my eye through the ranks and saw
a delicate little creature, with a tiara on her head, sitting
in the throne chair in the most quiet and unaffected man
ner possible. On one side of her stood that queen of
queenly women, the Dutchess of Sutherland, and on the
opposite side another beautiful woman. The Duke of
32*

r '-yi

378

ELIHU BURRITT.

THE DINNER.

379

Weflington stood a little further on one side with the
sword of state in his hand, and another dignitary on the
opposite side. A peaceful stfllness pervaded the assembly
for several minutes, during which the Queen surveyed them
with easy equanimity. Soon the doors opening from the
House of Commons were thrown open, and that body
preceded by the Speaker advanced rapidly to the bar of
the House of Lords opposite the throne, and at the re
spectful distance of about sixty feet. The Speaker com
menced the address of the commons, which he read, not
vety fluently, or distinctly.
When he had finished, the royal assent was announced
to several bills. The Queen then read her address from
the throne in the sweetest and clearest voice. Every
syllable was articulated with a distinctness that developed
the sound of almost evety letter. StiU no unpleasant
effort was perceptible, although the hall is not adapted for
speaking, and several men had addressed the assembly
without being heard by half the persons present
It was interesting to hear the Queen speaking of "my
subjects" and "my relations " with foreign governments,
and to contemplate her in such a position to millions in
distant lands. After the address the order of proroga
tion was read, and the Queen and suite retired. Then a
gradual breaking up ensued, which was protracted by salu
tations interchanged among the noblesse and gentry. It
was a vety interesting part of the occasion, as all the grace
of cultivated manners was exhibfled in an attractive form.
Lord John Russell did not pass the rubicon of the bar,
but lounged about on the outside with the commoners and
common people. He looked thin and worn, and there was
a kind of consumptive luster about his eyes, as if the bur
den of government had been heavy for him to bear.

'

FREE TRADE BANQUET.
Manchester, Eng., Januaty 31, 1849. The great Free
Trade Banquet was to be given this evening, and many
guests were arriving from the west of England. At 7
o'clock we went to the Free Trade hall. All the streets
leading to fl were filled with vehicles and lined with a
multitude of people. Having a guest ticket I was shown
into the commfltee room, which was filled with the old
champions of Free Trade, who had stood shoulder to
shoulder through the long struggle against the corn laws.
I was most cordially received by the great single-minded
Cobden, who with great kindness welcomed me into their
midst. In a few minutes the chairman, George Wilson, led the
way to the platform. I was last of the procession, and I
could hear the rounds of applause that greeted the Presi
dent and Cobden, Bright Vflflers, Gibson, and other
veterans, as they successively appeared before the assem
bly. The scene that presented itself on ascending the
platform was magnificent beyond description. The vast
hall was filled with ladies and gentlemen seated at fur
nished tables, presenting a vista of human faces that
glistened with the gladness of the occasion. The hall
was hung with peace-speaking banners, and its columns
and chandeliers were festooned with flowers, and all was
in the very beauty of joyful life. When the platform was
completely occupied by the numerous guests and officers
of the League, the Rev. Thomas Spencer, at the request
of the Chairman, invoked the divine blessing, after which
the great banquet commenced with the discussion of
things material and of great abundance. This depart
ment of the entertainment was well seasoned with music
from the band, and occupied nearly an hour.

380

ELIHU BURRITT.

After this, George Wilson opened the discussion of other
topics by an excellent speech, in which he adverted to
the past histoty of the League. He concluded by pro
posing a toast to the Queen, which was received with ac
clamations of applause, the whole assembly arisin- to
testify their sympathy. Mr. Villiers, one of the oldest
champions of Free Trade, was next called up, and made
a speech of great ability, which, though delivered without
animation, and with indications of physical exhaustion
was listened to with marked attention. Soon after, Rich
ard Cobden was called up, and the whole assembly arose
and cheer after cheer was given, and waxed louder and
louder, and then, after a moment's pause, broke forth
again with rapturous enthusiasm. Hundreds of handker
chiefs waved over the expanse of human beings, and the
liveliest demonstrations of welcome greeted the prime
minister of common sense, as he stood with honest earn
est face, looking upon the multitude. He made a noble
speech which the world will read with deep interest His
theme was Free Trade and Peace, and he enunciated sen
timents which sunk deep into the hearts of the thousands
that hung upon his lips. It was traly a great privilege
and high honor to listen to such a man on such an occa
sion. John Bright and M. Gibson followed with able and tell
ing speeches, which called down the house with repeated
demonstrations of applause. The hour of midnight was
now near at hand, and, as the speaker ceased, the choir
strack up the song, —
."There's a good time coming boys,
Wait a little longer."
Thousands seemed to join the chorus in these words,
and the whole building seemed tremulous with the emotion-
of the moment at the end of the piece, and George Wil-

LAMARTINE.

3SI

son arose, and said wflh an emphasis of striking signifi
cance, " // has come already." The vast assembly were
forthwith on their feet and then arose a volume of cheers
the like of which I never before heard. Louder, broader,
and warmer it grew, and handkerchiefs waved, and the
enthusiasm waxed more and more energetic. Again and
again the tide of human voices swelled up into a sea of
gladness, then ebbed into silence, and then again rolled
up into a multitude of voices. Thus the new era of Free
Trade was ushered in over the graves of the old bellig
erent system of commercial restrictions. Truly it was a
demonstration worthy of the event it celebrated. It was
past midnight before the great assembly had left the hall.
I was veiy kindly greeted by several gentlemen. John
iSright took me cordially by the hand and said, " Well,
you see that we are all getting into your vein." Mr. Cob
den also said many kind words to me, which made me feel
that I was regarded as a kind of coadjutor of these great
men.

INTERVIEWS WITH LAMARTINE,*

"We had previously, through Mr. Burnet arranged to
meet this great man. On the appointed evening we drove
to his door, and whflst waiting in the ante-room, I could
scarcely realize that I was about to be ushered into the
presence of one whom I had admired and venerated as
one of the noblest men of the age. In a minute or two
we were asked to follow the servant, and were ushered
* While in Paris, in 1849, for the purpose of making preliminary
arrangements for the Peace Congress, Mr. Burritt, in company with
Mr. Visschers of Brussels, and Rev. Mr. Richards, called upon Mr.
Lamartine, and this account of the same is taken from his journal.

382

ELIHU BURRITT.

into the presence of the poet hero of the worid. The
room was softly lighted, leaving the tout ensemble half
hidden and hafl revealed. Mr. Lamartine came forward
to meet us wflh the light of his great soul beaming in his
face, and tendered us a hand of easy and kindly welcome.
He conducted us into his library, and introduced us to
Madame Lamartine, who received us with all the grace
and affability which we might expect from the wife of such
a man. This room was also dimly lighted, insomuch that
all the persons present seemed flke those groups in an
Italian painting, half hidden and half revealed.
When we entered, several young men were seated in the
room, but they immediately arose and remained standing
during the interview. When Mr. Lamartine had resumed
his seat on a sofa by the side of his wife, an easy and
pleasant conversation commenced between them and Mr.
Visschers, in which Mn Richards and myself could not
participate, in consequence of our inability to speak
French, and of his to speak Enghsh. This was a serious
deprivation to both of us, and somewhat unexpected, as
we had heard that he spoke English quite well, an impres
sion confirmed by the fact that he had an English wife.
He at first addressed a few words to me inquiring how
long I had been in Paris, etc., which Mrs. Lamartine
translated, and I answered, in English. After a few mo
ments of this general conversation, Mr, Lamartine alluded
to the Peace Congress at Brussels, which immediately
introduced the subject of our mission to Paris. Mr. Viss
chers commenced with an accurate, lucid, and excellent
exposition of the principles, objects, and results of that
demonstration. He spoke of the three great meetings
which he had himself attended in England, connected
with the Brussels Congress, and of the organization of
Peace Congress committees in England, Belgium, and the

LAMARTINE.

383

Unfled States for the purpose of preparing for another
Congress on a larger scale in Paris, in the coming August.
He then, wflh an admirable tact and force, concentrated afl
these facts in one consideration which he addressed to the
great man to induce him to accept the position which we
were anxious he should assume. He stated that the three
National commfltees had, almost from the first moment
of their organization, fixed upon him as the head and
leader of their demonstration in Paris ; that we had not
presented ourselves before him in the unofficial and irre
sponsible character of individuals, but that we we're an
embassy sent by the three National committees expressly
to him, to convey to him their unanimous request that he
would accept the presidency of the committee of organi
zation which was necessaty to be formed in Paris for the
purpose of preparing for the proposed Congress. These
and other considerations Mr. Visschers presented with
great clearness and persuasion, and as we watched the
countenance of Mr. Lamartine during the exposition, we
could see that he was pleasantly impressed. He replied
that political considerations would induce him to decline
the presidency of the Congress flself, but that he was quite
willing to assist in its organization. He further remarked
that he would confer with some of his friends on the sub
ject and see us at another time. As we arose to leave,
he followed us through one or two rooms to the landing of
the stairs, and then vety cordially bade us farewefl. . .
A few days later we, by appointment made a second
call, and were received with an ease and kindly affability
which made us feel qufle at home in his presence. He
conducted us to the same room in which we had our first
interview, and here we were again received with grace
ful and unaffected politeness by Madame Lamartine. In
French he expressed his pleasure in seeing us again before

384

ELIHU BURRITT.

we left Paris, and remarked that Madame Lamartine would
act as his interpreter to convey to us the views and senti
ments which we desfled to interchange in reference to our
mission. She then observed that her husband had inter
ested himself much in the subject of the proposed Con
gress of the friends of Peace in Paris, but that he had
found all his friends and colleagues so absorbed in the ap
proaching elections as to prevent their cooperation with
him in organizing the committee, and instituting the prep
arations necessary for our demonstration, but that we
might be assured of his sympathy and hearty good wishes.
We expressed our grateful acknowledgment for this assur
ance, and said that it would hardly be in our power to
convey, an adequate idea of the importance which the
friends of peace in England and America attached to his
adhesion to, and advocacy of, our cause, and that if a full
assurance could be given that he would assume the lead
ership in the proposed Congress, it would tend to bring
into the movement the leading minds on both sides of the
Atiantic. This high estimation of her husband's position,
character, and genius touched the woman and wife in
her heart. It put in presence two ideas well calculated to
stir to emotion the sensibflities of a wife who adored her
husband, and watched over his reputation with the liveli
est vigflance. She accordingly referred, with a somewhat
indignant emphasis, to the calumnies which the Tory jour-
•nals of London had launched against her husband,
although when he was in power he had done all he could
to create and preserve friendly feelings toward England,
when by so doing he had, as it were, affected his reputa
tion by turning back the tendency of the popular mind in
France. If the Times and other leading London papers
spoke the language of English sentiment towards him it
must be qufle unlike our representation of it. We felt

lamartine.

385

the justice of this inference, and most earnestly protested
against the authority of the ignoble journals referred to as
the organs and exponents of the English mind towards
her husband. We alluded to the enthusiasm -with which
the name of Lamartine was hailed at all our peace meet
ings in England, He was at this moment engaged in
conversation with George Sumner, on the opposite side of
the room, while we were asseverating with a good deal of
earnestness that his name was cherished with reverence
and admiration by miflions in -England. Madame Lamar
tine communicated to him some of our statements, and he
immediately came and sat down upon the sofa by her,
when we continued our remarks, showing how the English
journals misrepresented the sentiments of the English
people. I offered my testimony as an American to the
truth of Mr. Richard's observations, and said that I had
attended with him nearly sixty public meetings in England
and Scotland during the last three months, and the men
tion of the name Lamartine, and of his sympathy with the
principles of peace and brotherhood, was sure to elicit
bursts of applause. I then referred to the veneration and
admiration which his genius and character commanded in
America, and said if the fact was known there, that he
had connected himself wflh the proposed demonstration in
August, it would contribute more than anything else to
bring over a large delegation from the United States.
He then replied at considerable length, assuring us that
the subject of peace was one which had engaged his
thoughts and sympathies for many years, as his works
could testify ; that under the former regime in France, he
had always been the advocate of peace, but when the last
Revolution burst forth he said that there was at first the
same incflnation araong the people for war as had been
displayed in the first Revolution, and that he had set him-
33

¦ t

386

ELIHU BURRITT.

self absolutely to resist this feeling, and guide the national
mind in another direction ; and, he believed, it was by the
power then given him over the multitude that a European
war was prevented. He continued in this strain for some
time, testifying his sympathy with our movement, and his
readiness to give us his support. We suggested a wish
that it might be convenient and agreeable for him to
attend a ratification meeting in London, after the Con
gress, that he might give the English people an opportunity
for expressin_g their feelings towards him. He replied that
if his presence on such an occasion should be deemed of
importance to the cause of peace, he would wfllingly go to
England to attend the meeting, and speak of the pacific
disposition of France towards all nations.
Anxious to obtain as clear and explicit an understand
ing as possible in regard to the object of our mission, Mr.
Richard asked Madame de Lamartine if we were at liberty
to announce to our friends that her husband would render
us his aid in connection with the Congress. " Certainly,"
she replied, " such is his meaning, and you can at once ¦
write to your American friends to this eflect." We then
arose to leave, when Mr. Lamartine cordially thanked us
for the call, and for our kindly expressions. Mr. Sumner,
who accompanied us, remarked that we should return to
England greatly encouraged and assured of success by his
promise of cooperation. "Ah, sir," said he, " you wfll have
the sanction of God, which is a much greater thing than
that of a poor, insignificant creature as I am." He ex
pressed the hope that he might meet us again in Paris in
the coming August with large delegations, with deep con
victions on the subject of peace.

1

professor LIEBIG.

387

VISITS TO EMINENT MEN.
Giessen, July 13, 1849.* Arrived here last evening.
The town is an antique looking place, with narrow and
crooked streets, with houses extending into them. The
stories of most of them project one beyond another, until
the uppermost of two opposite houses almost touch each
other. After breakfast we called on Prof. Carriere, of the Uni
versity, who received us with great cordiality and ex
pressed a lively sympathy with our movements. He went
with us to call on other Professors of the University, and
first on Prof. Bauer, who lived in same house. We found
him a true, sincere man,-with a warmth of heart and
hand which characterizes the Germans generally, so far
as I have become acquainted with them. We next called
upon one of the best known and most distinguished Ger
man scholars, — the celebrated Prof. Liebig, whose chem
ical works have been read by millions. We entered his
study through a passage lined with old demijohns, botties,
etc, and found him a plain, middle-aged man, with ruddy
cheeks. He received us very affably, and we at once
entered upon the object of our mission. After Messrs.
Visschers and Richards had explained our cause, and
expressed to him the hope that he would attend the ap
proaching Congress, I addressed a few words to him in
regard to the wide circulation of his works in America,
and alluded to the pleasure it would give the American
delegates to meet him at the Congress. He expressed
* While in Germany in 1849, Mr. Burritt called upon many of the
most distinguished men of that country to enlist their interest in the
cause of Peace, and especially of the Peace Congress soon to be
held. We give two or three extracts from his journal.

388

ELIHU BURRITT.

sympathy with our cause, and observed that he had treated
the subject of peace, as a commercial interest in one of
his works. He thought he might attend the Congress,
and would surely try to do so.
Halle, Germany, July 15, 1849. We called at the
house of the celebrated Dr. Tholuck, and had the pleas
ure of seeing that great man. He received .us with a
dignified politeness, which gradually softened into kindly
affability as we laid before him the object of our interview.
He remarked that he regarded the cause with interest,
and would favor all proper measures to promote it He
expressed the opinion that universal and permanent peace
could only be secured by the universal prevalence of
Christian principles and a religious life. He seemed
qufle interested in our efforts,' and though he could not
promise to attend the next Congress he would do so if
not specially prevented. He had heard much of the
Congress at Paris, and kindly offered to give us letters to
noted men and to aid us in any way in his power in our
efforts for the next meeting. I felt it a privilege to see
and converse with this distinguished theologian, whose
praise is in all the churches of the protestant world.

BIRTHDAY THOUGHTS.
. Copenhagen, Dec. 8, 1850. This day was truly a way-
mark in my life. It was my birthday, — one which carries
me beyond middle life into the sober, declining side of
my earthly existence. I am now thirty-nine years old. I
am entering on my fortieth year — into the sere and yellow
leaf of Autumn! And yet I feel myself a boy; with

thankfulness.

389

hopes, affections, anticipations as young as I ever nour
ished in my youth. The last year has been filled with
the first chapters of my experience, in importance and
interest. I have seen and experienced great things on
both sides of the ocean. God be praised for all the loving
kindness and tender mercy which have crowned the past
year. What is before me to do, endure, enjoy, I know
not. I commit my way to His guidance. May He up
hold me, and keep me in the way of trath, — " Keep my
feet from falling, my eyes from tears, my soul from sin in
the days that I am yet to see on the earth."
Copenhagen, Jan. i, 185 1. " Peace on earth and good
will to men ! " be the anthem over the advent of this new
year : the first of the last half of the nineteenth century.
Gloty to God in the highest for all that has been done
for humanity during the last fifty years. May no chap
ters of the crime and misety of war be written in the last
half of the volume ! who can tell what records it will
contain > The Great Exhibition, and the Peace Congress
in London are to inaugurate its first year's progress.
What will come next ? The mind of the age is awake
and pressing forward.
In my own experience this has been a great year, —
exceeding in importance and variety of emotions, hopes,
labor, faith, and realities any I have lived. My sojourn
and journeyings in my native land ; my welcome horae to
New Britain ; my welcome back to England ; the prepara
tions for the Frankfort Congress, with journeyings through
Germany ; the Great demonstration ; the mission to Den
mark and the Duchies ; the foreign mission of the Dove,
— all these have been great chapters in my life. Traly I
have great reason to thank God and take courage. His
goodness has been unbounded and unceasing during the
past year.

33'

V-^-^s^-^X-ftWVg- 1^;,

390

ELIHU BURRITT.

THE CRYSTAL PALACE EXHIBITION.* •
May I, 185 1. This was the inauguration day of the
grandest event that has transpired since the birth of our
Saviour,— the opening of the Great Exhibition in the
Crystal Palace. The day was delightful. A bland sum
mer sun shone upon the scene, which was indescribably
beautflul. Mr. Fry and myself arrived just before the
Queen left Buckingham Palace. St James Park was a
sea of human beings, and Hyde Park another. We
could see nothing of the procession except the Horse
Guards and the coachmen.
When the Queen had passed through the entrance,
under Weflington's statue, the rush of the multitude to
get out of St. James Park into Hyde was an exciting
scene. For hours the passages were crowded with strug
gling men and women. After several attempts we effected
our escape from the crowd and into Hyde Park, The
scene here was sublime. Nearly half a million people
must have been congregated, surrounding Crystal Palace,
which looked magnificent in the bright sunlight Soon
we heard the pealing notes of the great organs and the
voices of a thousand singers inside the edifice, in the
anthem, — " God save the Queen." Cannons boomed at
a distance. The opening ceremony had been performed
and the royal party left the building, and the ocean of
human beings flowed away in rivers, — then in rivulets.
October 11, 185 1. This was another great day in the
history of the world, — being the grand finale of the
Great Exhibition, The day was exceedingly beautiful, as
* This and the following extract are descriptions of the opening
and closing exercises of the world's grand Exhibition in the Crystal
Palace, London,

,r

THE NATIONAL ANTHEM.

391

if given from Heaven as a parting smile upon this mighty
enterprise of human brotherhood. A vast multitude
assembled within the Crystal Palace, to take a last look
at its worid of wonders; not to examine them m.detafl,
but to contemplate them as a magnificent whole. The
myriads present were largely of the middle classes, em
bracing a great number of the season-ticket holders.
The emotions that swayed the great congregation could
easfly be feU, as wefl as seen. They had come to witness
and celebrate the consummation of the most illustrious
event of human histoty. At a littie before 5 o'clock the
crowd seemed to thicken into the transept and at the
mouth of the rivers that debouched into it as if the
moment of their expectation were close at hand. The
hands of the clock moved slowly to the 5 hour mark.
Then the great bells burst forth into a thundering accla
mation of triumph over the victory achieved for humanity.
Louder and louder they pealed until all the arches echoed
with their joyful clamor. Then they ceased for a few
minutes, when the vast multitude uncovered their heads,
and the National anthem arose, solemn, grand, sublime.
Ten thousand voices at least mingled in this uprising
flood of joy and praise. The thousands in the galleries
looked like so many mountains of human Ufe and emo
tion, one chanting to the other in a mighty hymn of glad
ness. The scene at this moment and the sentiment that
thrilled the vast congregation were indescribable. Like
the scattered tribes of Israel, that came up to Jemsalem
to worship in the temple, at Hezekiah's invitation, they
seemed reluctant to leave the great temple of Peace.
Compactly they stood in the transept and main avenues,
longing to sing, or shout for joy. Up rose cheer after
cheer ; the spontaneous expression of an English assem
bly when touched to a strong and common sympathy.
Then singing burst forth again and ten thousand voices

392

ELIHU BURRITT.

Struggled hard to mingle in unison, but were wafted out
of the stream by the cross currents of wondering gladness
The beUs tried it and failed; the organs tried it, and
faded. Broken cheers arose from one part of the palpi
tating sea of human beings,-and sacred psalms and
spiritual songs from another. The bells rang out their
cataract of clamor upon the murmuring flood of sound
The organs said "Good night," to the bells,— the bells
responded to the salutation. The great bay of human
beings began to thin through street-ward rivulets. I stood
on the bridge that connected the two galleries in the
transept just over the main entrance and watched the
moving multitude with such emotions as I never before
experienced at the sight of a human congregation.
Soon the rivers that debouched into the transept were
cleared nearly to then mouths, and barred across by the
police to prevent any reflux of the retiring masses. The
bridge on which. I stood was cleared several times by the
moral suasion of the men in leather-topped hats, and
filled again by persons eager to look for the last time
upon the thousands below. At last this was bridged also
and I descended to one of the main avenues, thinking to
remain to the last man. But I soon found this barricaded
behind me, and policemen stationed at all points to expe
dite the egress by suasions of irresistible politeness.
Thus I found myself on the threshold with but a moment
to turn back a glance through the long dim avenue, and
bid farewell to a scene which never had a parallel in the
history of the world.
It was a beautiful autumnal evening, and as I crossed
Hyde Park I frequently turned around to look at the
great Crystal Palace which arose sublime in the still
golden twflight, and seemed glorious in its transfigura
tion, as fl Heaven embosomed it with the halo of its
smile as the temple of Universal Brotherhood.

BANQUET IN GUILD HALL.

393

BANQUET TO THE QUEEN.
London, July 9, 1851. This was a remarkable day in
my experience. It was a banquet day of the Queen to
be given in Guild Hall, and was to be an occasion of
great interest in connection with the great Exhibition.
Five thousand pounds sterling had been appropriated for
the demonstration. An invitation to be present was
considered a high honor, and through the influence of
members of the town council I was thus honored.
At 6.30 p. M., with a few friends, I went in a cab to
Gufld Hall. Cheapside and several other streets were
shut against any other carriages except those that con
veyed guests to the great festivity. But thousands of
people were forming into a living wall on each side,
while the windows of the houses were filled with eager
spectators, several hours in advance of the arrival of the
royal procession. We were among the first set down at
the venerable old Hall, and we had ample time to con
template its splendid erabellishraents. As a little token
of the presence of Peace as an idea, the giant statues of
Gog and Magog held, each, an Olive branch in his hand,
with his big bronze face apparently lit up with a peculiar
good humor in the brilliant fllumination. The Hall was
soon filled with such an assemblage of persons as I
never before had seen congregated. Dukes, and all the
lesser lights of the aristocracy, generals, admirals, and all
grades of military and naval oflScers were present, with
foreign ambassadors and celebrities of every rank.
At about 10 o'clock the heralds sounded the approach
of the Queen. The band struck up the National anthem,
a flutter of expectation ran through the dense mass,
avenues were made through them at right angles, the

394

ELIHU -BURRITT.

trumpets sounded with a more certain "sound, — the royal
procession entered the door, and after a succession of
men in various arms and uniform's, the towering form of
Prince Albert was seen, bowing to the lines of ladies and
gentlemen on either side. By standing on tiptoe, I could
see the little Queen of the greatest empire in the world
by his side, bowing smilingly to receive the homage that
was shed upon her like the breath of flowers. They
passed through into the councfl chamber, then returned
and proceeded to the throne end of the room, bowing to
all as they passed along. Then a dense current of the
assembly commenced moving slowly before her, whom
she received standing with Prince Albert by her side,
bowing profusely.
Occasionally the dais before her was cleared for a
dance, in which some of the younger celebrities of the
aristocracy took part. I made my way up vety near the
Queen where I had an excellent opportunity of seeing
her countenance in every phase of animation and expres
sion, for full fifteen minutes. After a while she made a
promenade through the assembly to the opposite end of
the Hall, as if to enable all to see her with less difficulty
and delay. Then she went into the supper room and,
soon after her return, left the hall in the midst of the
heartiest acclamations.

NEW YEAR REFLECTIONS.
London, January i, 1852. A new year! a new year
is bom 1 God of all grace, bless its cradle moments 1
A new year ! The first to a million of human lives ; the

THE QUAKER MEETING.

395

¦

last to a million <more 1 What consequences, what expe
riences of human joy and sorrow, cluster and crowd at
the door of its first hours ! Thanks be to the God of all
grace for what I have seen and enjoyed of His goodness
during the last year. It was fraught with remarkable
manifestations of His loving kindness. How much I
have seen and tasted of thisl The year 185 1 has been
a remarkable year. When, with a little social circle of
friends, at Hamburgh, I was kneeling before the throne of
grace and awaiting its advent, how little did I conceive
what its coming days would bring! Among its precious
remembrances are the new acquaintances and friendships
I have made with nearly a hundred family circles in Eng
land in connection with the Olive Leaf movement I
trust that during the new year both the Olive Leaf Mis
sion, and the Ocean Penny Postage cause, wfll make great
progress. We commence the year with no Olive Leaf
Societies.

THE QUAKER MEETING.*London, May 21, 1852.
This has been a day of deep interest. In the moming
I went to the meeting of public worship in the Devonshire
* From no other class of people in England did Mr. Burritt receive
more true, substantial, and permanent sympathy and aid than were
manifested by those belonging to the Society of Quakers. Their great
kindness and cheerful cooperation were highly appreciated by Mr.
Burritt, who always spoke of them in terms of strong commendation
and affectionate regard. And where shall we go to find a class of
people whose daily lives are more blameless, whose friendship is
more sincere, though it may be less pretentious, whose benevolence
is more free and cordial, whose integrity is more genuine ? No one

396

ELIHU BURRITT.

House, which was filled to the utmost capacitv by Friends
from evety part of the Kingdom. As a spectacle, no
human congregation can surpass it in impressive physiog
nomy. The immaculate purity of the women's dresses as
they sat, a mountain multflude of shining ones, arising in
long quiet ranks from the floor to the gallety on one side
of the house, the grave mountain of sedate and thought-
,ful men on the other, presented an aspect more suggestive
of the assembhes of the New Jerusalem than any earthly
congregation I had ever seen.
_ In a brief time the last comers had found seats, or stand
ing places, and then a deep devotional sflence settled down
upon the great assembly, like an overshadowing presence
from heaven. The still, up-breathing prayer of a thousand
hearts seemed to ascend like incense, and the communion
of the Holy Spirit to descend like a dove, whispering its
benediction, and touching, to sweeter listening serenity,
those faces, so calm, with the breath of its wing. And
out of the deep sflence of this unspoken devotion arose
one, with trembhng meekness, to unburden the heart of a
fewbrief message-words, to which fl feared to withhold
utterance, lest fl should sin against the inspflation that
made it burn with them.
From another part of the house arose the quavering
voice of prayer, short but full of the earnest emotion of
supplication and humble utterance of faith and thanks
giving. The moments of deeper silence followed, as if all
the faculties of the mind and all the senses of the physical
being had descended into the soul's inner temple to listen
can be familiar with the beautiful simplicity of character and the
lovmg charmes, which they so heartily bestow upon the needy and
affiicted, without a feeling of the highest respect and esteem. Mr.
Burntt often attended their religious meetings, and greatly enjoyed
them. This description of one of them is full of interest.-ED.

/•?

THE QUAKER MEETING.

397

to, and wait for, the voice of the spirit of God. How im
pressive was the heart-worship of those silent moments !
There was something solemn, beyond description, in the
spectacle of a thousand persons of all ages, so immovable
that they seemed scarcely to breathe. The "Minister's
Gallery " was o''ccupied by a long rank of the teachers, the
fathers and mothers of the society, from different parts of
the countty, who seemed to preside over this communion,
like shepherds sitting down before their quiet flocks by the
still waters of salvation.
In the center sat a man and woman, a little past the
meridian of life, and apparently strangers in the great con
gregation. The former had an American look, which was
perceptible, even to the opposite extremity of the build
ing, and when he slowly arose out of the deep silence, his
first words confirmed that impression. They were words
fitly spoken and solemn, but uttered with such a nasal
intonation as I never heard before, even in New England.
At first, and for a few minutes, I felt it doubtful whetiier
the unpleasant influence of this aggravated peculiarity
would not prevent his words of exhortation from ha-ving
salutary effect upon the minds of the listening assembly.
But as his words seem to flow and warm with increasing
unction, little by little they cleared up from that nasal ca
dence, and rounded into more oral enunciation. Little
by little they strengthened with the power of truth, and
the truth made them free and flowing. His whole person, so
impassive and unsympathetic at first, entered into the
enunciation of these truths with constantly increasing ani
mation, and his address grew more and more impressive
to the last. He spoke nearly an hour, and when he sat
-down and buried his fingers under his broad-brimmed hat,
and the congregation settled down into the profound quiet
34

."'

398

ELIHU BURRITT.

of serene meditation, I doubted whether it would be broken
again by the voice of another exhortation.
But in the course of ' a few minutes, the form of the
woman who sat by his side, — and it was his -wife, — might
be perceived in a state of half suppressed emotion, as if
demurring to the inward monitor of the spirfl that bade
her arise and speak to such an assembly. It might well
have seemed formidable to the nature of a meek and deli
cate woman. She seemed to struggle, involuntarily, with
the conviction of duty, and to incline her person slightly
towards her husband, as if the tried attributes of her heart
leaned for strength on the sympathy of his, as well as on
the wisdom she awaited from above. Then she arose,
calm, meek, and graceful. Her first words dropped with
the sweetest enunciation upon the still congregation, and
were heard in evety part of the house, though they were
uttered in a tone seemingly but a little above a whisper.
Each succeeding sentence warbled into new beauty and
fullness of silvery cadence. The burden of her spirit was
the life of religion in the heart, as contrasted with its mere
language on the tongue, or what it was to be really and
truly a disciple of Jesus Christ.
Having meekly stated the subject which had occupied her
meditations, and which she had felt constrained to revive
in the hearing of the congregation before her, she said, —
"And now in my simple way, and in the brief words that
may be given me, let me enter with you into the examina
tion of this question." At the first word of this sentence,
she loosed the fastenings of her bonnet, and at the last,
handed it down to her husband with a grace indescribable.
There was soraething vety impressive in the act, as well
as the manner in which it was performed, as if she uncovered
her head involuntarily in reverence to that vision of
divine truth unsealed to her waiting eyes. And in her

THE QUAKER MEETING,

399

eyes it seemed to beam with a heavenly light serene, and in
her heart to burn wflh holy inspiration and meekness,
and to touch her lips, and evety gentle movement of her
person with an expression eloquent solemn, beautiful, as
her words fell upon the rapt assembly from the heaven
of tremulous flute-music with which her voice filled the
building. Like a stream welling from Mount Hermon,
and winding its way to the sea, so flowed the .melodious
current of her message, now meandering among the un
opened flowers of rhymeless poetty— now through green
pastures of salvation, where the Good Shepherd was bear
ing in his bosom the tender lambs of his flock ; next it
took the force of lofty diction and fell, as fl were, in cas
cades of silvery eloquence, but solemn, slow, and search
ing, adown the rocks and ravines of Sinai ; then out, like
a sweet rolling river of music, into the wilderness, where
the Prodigal Son, with the husks of his poverty clutched
in his lean hands, sat in tearful meditation upon his
father's home, and his father's love.
More than a thousand persons seemed to hold their
breath as they listened to that meek, delicate woman, whose
lips appeared to be touched to an utterance almost divine.
I never saw an assembly not so moved but so subdued
into motionless medflation. And the serene and sol
emn silence deepened to stillness more profound when
she ceased speaking. In the midst of these stiU mo
ments, she knelt in prayer. At the first word of her
supplication the whole congregation arose. The men
who had worn their hats while she spoke to them,
reverently uncovered their heads as she kneeled to
speak to God. Long and fervent was her supplication.
Her clear, sweet voice trembled with the burden of the
petition with which her soul seemed to ascend into the
Holy of Holies, and to plead there with Jacob's father

J

400

ELIHU BURRITT.

for a blessing upon all encircled wflhin that immediate
presence. She arose from her knees, and the great con
gregation sat down, as it were, under the shadow of that
prayer, to sflence more deep and devotional. This lasted
a few minutes, when two of the elders of the Society, seated
in the center of the " Ministeris Gallery," shook hands
with each other, and were followed by other couples
in each direction, as a kind of mutual benediction, as wefl
as a signal that the meeting was terminated. At this sim
ple sign the whole assembly arose and quietly left the
house. Such was the experience of a couple of hours in
a Quaker meeting.

THE RAUHE HAUS AT HAMBURGH.
J. H. Wichern at Horn ; His Efforts and their Results ;
Growth of his Institution; Christmas, and how Im
proved. In no city that I have visited in Europe is human kind
ness more extensively and minutely organized than in this
commercial capital of Northern Europe. In the first
place, you find hospitals for all ages and all condflions of
bodily afHiction ; houses of correction, refuge, and rescue.
Then the out-door benevolence is administered after 'the
most perfect system of order and activity. This depart
ment of charity is managed chiefly by the ladies, and no
nook of poverty or wretchedness escapes the vigilance
and visitation of their loving kindness. It would be im
possible to do more than name all these instflutions and
operations of philanthropy in one letter, so I will occupy
this with an account of one of the number, which seems
to embody the spirit of all the rest in its most interesting
and striking manifestations. This is the "Rauhe Haus,"

J. H. WINCHERN.

401

established in 1833. The literal meaning, as nearly as it
can be given in English, of this appellation is, "The
Rough House," or a house of refuge for the rudest, most
hopeless little vagabonds of beggaty and vice that can be
found in the lowest lanes and sewers of poverty and sin.
In this institution, these young beings, whose evety day
of life has been a year of wretchedness and crime, are
brought under the action of two cardinal principles — the
law of kindness, and the influence of family society. As
an illustration of the power of these principles in trans
forming what would seem to be the very mistletoes of
humanity into trees bearing the best fruits of virtue, this
institution is yet unequalled, although several of the kind
have recently sprung up in different countries. A cursoty
glance at its histoty will suffice to delineate the principal
features of its character.
On the ist of November, 1833, J. H. Wichem, an
earnest man, whose heart is a living gospel of Christian
love to his kind, took possession, with his family, of a
small, one stoty, straw-roofed house, fronting on a narrow
lane leading out of the village of Horn, about three miles
from Hamburgh. This little building itself was a vaga
bond house, having been what would be called in America
a " rum hole " — a resort for the lowest and noisiest kind
of drinkers and smokers. About an acre of land, cov
ered with sprawling bushes, ditches, hfllocks, etc, formed,
with the smutty cottage, the foundation of the new insti
tution, which was to solve another great problem in the
mysteries of humanity. No great palace or prison-looking
building had been erected by the State for this experiment
of benevolence. None was contemplated or desired.
From the beginning to the end, it was to be a cottage
establishment ; and this one by the lane side, with its
rum-seethed, tobacco-smoked walls, and roof of black

34'

402

ELIHU BURRITT.

mouldering straw, was all the heroic founder asked for
the working out of his scheme of philanthropy.
After the lapse of a week spent in purifying this little
cottage and preparing it for a home for the little unfor
tunate beings who were tb be gathered to its hearth, three
were brought in from their lairs on the frosty pavement,
or door-stones of the city. In the course of a few weeks,
fourteen of these young vagabonds were introduced within
the fold of that family circle, varying from five to eighteen
years of age, yet all old in the experience of wretched
ness and vice. Each had become a hardened veteran in
some iniquitous practice or malicious disposition, and, as
such, had been pronounced, or regarded, as incorrigible.
Nearly all of them had been left and trained to beggaty,
lying, stealing, and to evety vicious habit. Some had the
organ or disposition of destructiveness developed to such
a frenzy that the first thought of their life seemed to be
the mutflation of every thing they could reach ; others
had acquired a ferocious force and obduracy of self-will.
One of these adepts in crime had been convicted by the
police of ninety-three thefts, and yet he was only in his
twelfth year. They had been treated or regarded as a
species of human vermin, baffling the power of the au
thorities to suppress. They had slept under carts, in
door-ways, herding with swine and cattle by night, when
the begging or thieving hours were past.
Such were the boys that found themselves looking at
each other in wonder and surprise the first evening they
gathered around the hearthstone of that cottage home.
There was no illusion about this sudden transformation
of their experience. There was that bland, benevolent
man in their midst with his kind eyes and voice, looking
and speaking to them as a father to his children. And
there was his mother with the law of kindness on her lips,

OPENING OF THE ROUGH HOUSE.

403

in her looks, in every act and word ; and he called her
mother, and the first evening of their common life she
became the mother of their love and veneration; and
they — ragged, forsaken, hopeless castaways, conceived in
• sin and shapen in iniquity — became the chfldren of her
affection. As fa"r as the east from the west was their
past life to be separated from their future, — to be cut off
and forgotten. And this cottage, away from the city and
its haunts, with its bright fire by night, and the little beds
under the roof, with its great Bible and little psalm-books,
was to be their home. And the great chestnut tree that
thrust out its arms over it, and all the little trees and the
ditches, hillocks, and bushes of that acre were their own.
Some hymns and sweet-spirited ballads were sung after
the frugal supper, and then the mother of the circle told
them sorae nice stories with her kind voice ; and the
father, with his kind eyes, asked their advice about some
little plans he had in his mind for improving their farm.
The feeling of home came warming into their hearts like
the emotions of a new existence as he spoke to them,
with his kind voice and eyes, of oicr house, of our trees,
of our cabbages, turnips, potatoes, pigs, and geese and
ducks, which we will grow for our comfort.
That night the boys went up to their beds under the
roof, wondering if all this would be real in the moming,
or if they should wake up on the frosty door-stones of
the city, or under the carts, and find it all a dream that
they had experienced in the few hours of that new life.
The morning came, and, with its first ray of light the
kind eye and voice of the family father ; and they gath
ered around the breakfast table, and then for a little
while around the fire, and a hymn was sung ; and then
they all went out together to commence the work they
had agreed on in the council at the fire-side the night

404

ELIHU BURRITT.

before. It had been unanimously voted that a sprawling
wall of earth, half surrounding their garden, should
come down first ; and at it they went in earnest, with
such tools as they had. And no small job was this for
fourteen boys from five to eighteen years of age, for it
was 500 feet in length, and six in height and breadth.
That first day's work was a triumph to them, and when
they grouped around the fire at night, the ambition of
new ideas came into their hearts. There were tools
wanted for rooting out the briars and bushes, and there
were boys of the circle that would undertake to make
them. They went so far as to speak of making a tool-
house ; nay, even a shop where they would work in stormy
weather. The oldest boys were sure they could build it
alone. At the end of the first week they had made a
year's progress in this new life and its hopes and expecta
tions. The earth mound gradually disappeared, and the
faith that they could do something, be something, and
own something grew daily within them ; and they sung
cheery songs at their work, for almost evety evening
they practiced on some ballad, under the instruction of
the"mother of the circle. " So eager did they become to
accomplish this undertaking," says the first report of this
institution, " that they frequently worked by lantern-light
in the evening, rooting up bushes and trees, in spite of
snow and rain."
The winter days and nights came, and when they could
not prosecute their out-door work, their united genius
contrived employment within. The family-raotlier taught
them to knit and sew, and other arts of domestic indus
try ; and in the long winter evenings, after recreating for
an hour in reading, writing, or ciphering, they gathered
into a circle on the floor — a little band of cross-legged
taflors — and plied their needles of every size on thick,

=5:?>S

NEW PLANS.

405

coarse stockings, frocks, trousers, etc., and some the awl
on shoes, half wood and half leather, for the future in
mates of their home, who might be brought in from such
places as they themselves once inhabited. This was a
work and a thought that brought kind feelings into their
hearts, and many a one of the group wondered how such
and such a boy, who used to cuddle down with him, of a
frosty night, on a door-stone in the city, would feel in the
frock or trousers he had under way. This was their sing
ing time ; and just in proportion as they loved to work
they loved to sing, and they did both on these occasions
with the happiest zest. They were taught the most lively
and joyful tunes first, and these took the precedence in
their music and labor concerts of the winter evenings.
Then came the spring, with its music and beauty, and
birds and bees, and all things green and gladsome ; and
with it came to the boy family of the Rauhe Haus a new
life of labor, hope, expectation, and plans. During the
winter their number had increased, and their beds were
too thick under the roof, and their ideas had taken a
house-building turn during the long evenings, and some
of the older boys had tried their hands at the model of a
cottage, and all had come to the faith that they could
build a house large enough to live in. The plan was
drawn out first on the floor with chalk, then with ink on
paper, and they longed for the winter to be gone, with its
frost and ice, that they might break ground with their
spades and picks for the cellar. As soon as the snow
banks disappeared they fell to, with an ambition which
took hold of the youngest of them, to build with their o-wn
hands a house for themselves. As soon as daylight came,
and as long as it lasted, they were seen and heard singing
at their labors.
"On the nth of March," says the first report "the

¦'-,\

406

ELIHU BURRITT,

foundation of this, the first kinderhaus (children's house)
was laid, with prayer and singing, in the presence of
several friends of the institution, favored with the most
beautiful weather. All the earth-work on this ' Swiss-
house,' as fl was named, had been performed by the boys.
They dug the cellar, carted the bricks, prepared the mor
tar, and now the walls began to rise, and their joy to
increase. Every boy, great or small, held on to the work,
longer and later, until, on the i6th of April, the whole
company, with a jubilee of song, hung a wreath of tri
umph on the gable of the house. A few more busy days,
and the buflding was completed, and ready for the recep
tion of the first colony from the old Rauhe Haus. It
was hung from top to bottom wflh evergreens and wreaths
of flowers ; " " and on the 20th of July," says the report,
" on a bright Sabbath morning, it was dedicated, in the
presence of several hundred friends, to the good Shep
herd, through whose love and help twenty-seven boys had
already taken up their residence therein."
This event opened a new chapter in the social economy
and moral character of the institution. The affections,
hopes, sympathies, and enjoyments of these boys all
clustered around this family life. They had lived, labored,
slept eaten, and sung together for many months ; they
had built thera a home together, and now they took pos
session of it with joy and exultation. An earnest young
disciple of the law of love, who had come from a dis
tance to discipline his heart and life to a regime of kind
ness, and who had lived in their midst as an elder brother,
accompanied them to their new dwelling, to live with
them stfll as a fatherly brother and companion in labor,
study, play, and in all their enjoyments. Another young
man, of the same spirit, entered the old hive or Rauhe
Haus, where a new family of little vagabonds from differ-

A VISIT TO THE ROUGH HOUSE.

407

ent parts of the countty began to form. In the course
of time, this also colonized in the same way as the first,
and took up their abode in a cottage-home, built mostly
by their own hands, taught and assisted by the elder fam
ily of the " Swiss-house."
Thus has this most interesting institution expanded
gradually into a little cottage village of boy-families, each
having their own separate house and home, and their
fatherly brother, a young man of twenty or twenty-five
years of age. Feeling at a loss how to spend " Thanks
giving Day " properly, in a foreign land, I determined to
spend it in visiting this establishment. So I walked out
to it from Hamburgh, a distance of about three mfles, and
was most kindly received by one of the young men of
the institution. He took me through all the work-shops
and dwelling-houses, their littie chapel, the wash and dry
ing house, their printing office, bake-house, etc. It was
truly a beautiful spectacle to see these young beings, once
so hopeless, wretched, and vicious, now sitting clothed in
a better mind, so full of hope and gladness and gratitude.
There they were, divided into little groups, with one of
" the brethren " in the center of each, busy at evety spe
cies of utilitarian handicraft. They are all shoemakers,
tailors, blacksmiths, carpenters, etc., by turns. For a
certain length of time, a troop of them, with a " brother "
at their head, may be found mounted on shaving-horses,
and showing themselves a brave little band of coopers ;
then they may be seen sitting cross-legged in a ring on a
large platform, plying their needles to the same tunes on
garments for the whole community, and for future comers.
For it is the motive of this economy, not only to teach
them all kinds of handicraft but also to discipline their
minds to the habit of working for each other.
There are now about seventy boys and twenty-five girls

4o8

ELIHU BURRITT.

in this establishment, who constitute four boy-families
and two giri-families, both sexes varying in age from
eight to sixteen years. There are from thirty-six to forty
" brothers," and eight " candidates," or theological stu
dents, preparing for the ministry by taking lessons in the
law of love, as here put in force. Thus, not only these
young creatures are rescued from ruin, and transformed
to a new life, but scores of earnest young men are trained
for superintendents and founders of similar institutions
in other countries.
The moral and religious development of these children
would form a history by itself, which would be deeply
interesting to evety benevolent mind. First among the
influences that opened then hearts to a Christian culture
was that of music. " Especially at first," says the report,
" it happened almost daily that some of the larger, as
well as the smallest boys, broke forth in sobs, and wept
aloud during the singing in our morning devotions ; and
on one occasion the whole were so deeply affected as to
be obliged to give it up. ' We cannot hold out singing,'
they were accustomed to say, ' without thinking of what
we have been.' On one occasion, when they were by no
means learning and practicing church melodies,— to which
a special hour on the Sabbath was alloted,— one of the
boys stood as if out of his mind. On my speaking to him,
he said, ' During singing I forget everything here, and
think only of my former life.' On another occasion, two
brothers fell into each other's arms, and were so affected
that I was obliged to send them into the garden ; for they
had thought of their unfortunate mother while engaged in
singing. Especially with the spring increased ,the1r'joy in
this exercise. In the evening, after their work was done,
they gathered of their own accord around a tree, or laid
down on the grass, or walked arm-in-arm, a whole hour

CHRISTMAS.

409

long, in the garden, and sung their beautflul songs ; or
they climbed at vesper time, with their bread, to the high
est branches of the beautiful chestnut and lime trees, that
overshadowed the Rauhe Haus, and mingled their songs
with those of the feathered songsters." *****
Knowing what a day of gladness, and greetings, and
gifts of loving remembrance Christmas was, in all home-
circles, in hospitals, in the richest houses of the rich, and
in the poorest houses of the poor, I resolved to see its
working and enjoyment at this interesting institution. So,
at about twelve o'clock, I wended my way thither. It is
situated in the village of Horn, about three miles from
Hamburgh ; and, on turning off from the main road into
the narrow lane which led to it, I found that scores of
people from the city were proceeding thither — some on
foot, others in carriages, to witness the celebration of the
anniversaty by the inmates of the establishment The
great garden, full of cottages, seemed to smfle with the
gladness which throbbed in the hearts and shone from
the faces of the hundred happy children which it embo
somed. The trees which they had planted, thicket thick,
around their little houses, seemed to lean to each other
lovingly, and to wish each other a " a merry Christmas ; "
and the ducks and geese in the lakelet and the merry
chickens that nestled or sported in the sunny places in
the garden, appeared to know and share the day's ex
perience. The visitors or spectators of the scene began to accu
mulate into a crowd about the door of the little chapel ;
and many a richly-appointed carriage drove up and set
down parties of distinguished rank from Hamburgh, who
came to see the happiness of children recently rescued
from its lowest scenes of vice and poverty, and renovated
to a new existence. In a few minutes the faraily church
35

'Ai V

410

ELIHU BURRITT.

Of this family of cottages was completely filled, with the
exception of a small space at the desk-end of it, which
was reserved for the boy and giri families, and their
Father" and elder "Brethren." At the foot of the
desk was planted a Christmas-tree, which reached to the
ceiling overhead, with evety branch holding in its hand a
taper light.
A little way in front of this, a semi-circular table was
arranged, covered with white linen, and extending, in its
diameter, nearly from wall to wall. On the outer or con
vex side was placed a row of chairs for about thirty per
sons, which seemed to be reserved, as I imagined, for
special guests or dignflaries from the city— perhaps the
principal patrons of the institution; for all the other
seats were mere hard benches without backs, and these
were already occupied and crowded by persons of all
ages and conditions. In a few moments, however, I felt
reproved for appropriating, in my imagination, these thirty
reserved chairs of honor after the coraraon standard of
estiraation. There was a movement at the door of
unusual interest Those standing close by fl made way,
deferentially, for a party, the special guests of the occa
sion, who were to go up higher than they,— to the highest
places at the feast. They came— the poorest of the
poor, the lamest of the lame, the blindest of the blind,
the oldest of the aged. From the lowest habitations of
poverty in the neighboring villages, they carae at the invi
tation of these reformed littie vagabonds, whose hearts
were softened to the kindest issues by souvenirs of " the
hole of the pit" of that wretchedness and perdition from
which they had been rescued by the hand of Christian
love. And of this love and charity having freely received,
grace for grace, their young hearts and hands were going
to give back freely to these poor and decrepit people.

CHRISTMAS.

411

gifts of their gratitude to God and man for their own sal
vation. An old woman of ninety-six years led the way, and
was seated in the chair of honor at the center of the
table, and those on each side of her were filled by pauper
guests from the hovels, hedges, and highways of the
neighborhood. The next minute, the quick, short tread
of a multitude of young feet, and mingling with the mur
mur of young voices, was heard without and the father
of the institution entered at the head of its chfldren-
families, numbering about one hundred boys and girls,
from five to eighteen years of age, and accompanied by
the band of " Brothers " who live with them, as the heads'
and companions of their home and labor circles. For a
few minutes the house was filled wjth the lively clatter of
their wooden-soled brogans, as they crowded into the
small space between the guest table and the wall, and
rounded up into a hill of happy faces, scores of which
peered out floridly, with eyes of large expectation, from
the branches of the Christmas-tree.
The father-superintendent, a man about forty-five years
of age, with long apostolic locks of silver grey, and eyes
and voice full of heaven, and the sympathies and affec
tions of the heart into which it descends and dwells with
its music, and love, and river of life, and all its New
Jerusalem of joy, and who had brought all these to bear
upon the rescue and renovation of these children of pov
erty and sin — stood before us. The special guests of
this feast were the first objects of his observation ; and
he stepped forward, and with his face beaming with the
light of loving-kindness, and voice modulated to its
sweetest accents, he gave his hand to each of the circle
in succession ; not merely with a passing inquiry or greet
ing of good-will, but with a short, tender address of sym-

412

ELIHU BURRITT.

pathy, cheer, and exhortation. The windows were now
darkened, and the tapers, with which the Christmas-tree
blossomed, were lighted, and looked a very star-tree,
bringing out, in bold relief, the light-haired heads and
sunny faces that nestled under its green branches, all the
greener for the light-blossoms they bore. The religious
exercises were opened by a Christinas anthem by the
chfldren, who made such heart-music of it as I never
heard before. What a choir that ! It seemed a melody
almost divine. Every voice and eye of them all sang
with a melting power of sentiment which it was a privf-
lege to see as well as hear ; for as their voices swelled up
into the sublimest unison of the anthem, their ruddy
faces softened and shone with the ecstacy of the music
in their hearts. This was followed by a prayer addressed
to the Throne of Grace by the father of the children-
families, with his eyes open, fixed, and wide, and seeming
to look clear into heaven and see the blessing he asked
upon us all. Another anthem followed this, and then a
glowing, eloquent address from the superintendent which
lasted about an hour. To those who have read the gos
pel sermon of his life it would be unnecessary to say how
such a man must preach, so I will not undertake to
describe it.
At the conclusion of this address another hymn was
sung, and then came the consuramation of this interesting
scene. The superintendent, with the liveliest emotions
of pleasure, in which the whole congregation participated,
described graphically the Christmas gifts which the
children had presented him and his wife, and children by
blood, on the previous evening ; the embellishments of
the room, the devices of their genius, the faity chapel,
and castles of moss and evergreen, cottages of bread,
and pyramids of cake and confectionety, etc., all of their

CHRISTMAS.

413

own handiwork. And now they had called in these poor
guests before them, from the abodes of poverty in the
surrounding villages, to present them gifts of their good
will and sympathy. He then called upon the representa
tives of the different boy-families to bring forward the
presents they had prepared for the occasion.
The family of the " Swiss-house," the eldest daughter of
the mother-house, was first invited to bring their Christ
mas offerings. Each of these families, fl will be recol
lected, consists of sixteen or eighteen boys, evety one of
whom had a gflt for one of the pauper guests on the out
side of the table. But as they could not all come forward
to it, four of their number were delegated to present their
offerings. And they ranged themselves beside the father,
wflh their arms filled to their utmost embrace with evety-
thing good and comfortable to the poor, in all weathers —
with coarse stockings, wooden-soled shoes, thick and
warm articles of clothing, and with huge loaves of brown
bread, etc., all of their own hand's making.
The representatives of the "Bee-hive" family were
next called, and they came forward with their arms full of
similar gifts ; and were followed by those of the other
houses. In like manner the two girl-famflies brought
theirs, and stood with them in their arms, over against
the poor old woraen who were to receive thera. Then
they all broke forth spontaneously in a hymn, which
breathed in music the spirit wflh which they were about
to lay these humble offerings of their hearts before the
subjects of their benevolence. In the midst of the hymn
they paused, as if a new thought had strack them all.
The father stepped forward to the little desk, and took
up the Bible, as if it had been the ark of the covenant,
and read those verses in the twenty-fifth chapter of Mat
thew which describe the scene when the Son of Man
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414

ELIHU BURRITT.

Shall come in His glory, and all nations be gathered
before Him, and "The king shall say unto them on his
right hand. Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the
kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the
worid ; for I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat ; I
was thirsty, and ye gave me drink ; I was a stranger, and
ye took me in ; naked, and ye clothed me ; I was sick
and ye visited me; I was in prisoii, and ye came unto
me ; and when, in answer to the question of surprise-
when and how they had ever administered unto Him
after, this manner— He shall answer, "Verily, I say unto
you. Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least
of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me " He
closed the book and said that, on the eve which they
were commemorating, our heavenly Father had presented
a Christmas gift to mankind, which exhausted the wealth
of the universe. In Jesus Christ He had given us all
things, both the riches, and fullness, and gloty of the
Godhead. We could not give back anything to him per
sonally, for all that we had and were was His, and came
from Him. But still. He had surrounded us with the
objects of His loving-kindness, through whom He would
accept the smallest gifts, deeds, and thoughts of sympathy
and good-wfll, as done unto Himself. " Inasmuch as ye
have done fl unto the least of these my brethren," said
he, turning the palms of his hands outward toward the
poor creatures before him, who were weeping at his
words, "ye have done fl unto me." Through these the
least of His Httie ones, these chfldren may each present
a Christmas gift to the Saviour of the world, who, in his
manger-cradle, brought life and immortality in His baby
hand, and gave the greatest gift to all mankind that God
could give and man receive.
It was infinitely striking, and the whole company seemed

CHRISTMAS GIFTS.

415

as if listening to a new gospel. I never before heard or
saw those passages applied by such fllustration. Then
the hymn was resumed, and the voices of tiie happy littie
multitude careered, from unison to unison, in a rhapsody
of harmony, until those who had joined with them from
the congregation gradually fell off, as if to listen to the
melting melody of those young and happy hearts. No
pen that I can wield could describe that spectacle. It
would have required the pencil of a master-hand to por
tray its leading features. Perhaps the imagination of
our young friends may draw a picture of the scene. Can
you not, then, see, in the foreground, the father of the
children-famflies, a tall man, with his kind eyes and long
hair of sflver grey, and a voice modulated to the sweetest
accents of benevolence, with his heart full to overflowing
with gladness and gratitude to God, for the working of
His grace to such a surprising regeneration of the natures
of the young beings that clustered around him ? Then
see those sixteen boys and eight girls standing in the first
rank, on each side of him, with their arms full of Christ
mas gifts to the poor old men and women before them,
with their heads inclined a little to one side, and with
their eyes turned upward in fixed ecstacy, as if listening
to music made in heaven, instead of their o-wn. See that
little boy of a dozen summers, with white hair and florid
cheeks, with a loaf of bread in his arms, half as large as
himself, and a dozen pairs of clog shoes, of his o-wn
make, singing with all the rapture of his heart's gladness.
Can you not make a visible picture of it ?
While the hyran was pealing upward on the swelling
tide of all these voices, a movement of the eye from the
father toward the four representatives of the Swiss-house
family gave them the sign, and they stepped forward,
'without dropping a note, and laid the gifts of " their

4i6

ELIHU BURRITT.

house on the table, before three or four of the decrepit
old men and then fell back into the line, singing all the
while with increased enthusiasra. Then the repre nta
tives of the Bee-hive faraily stepped forward and' aid s
Christmas offering on the table, and were succeeded hy
he delegates of the other families in their tum. The
hillock of them built up before the old woman of ninety-
six almost hid her from the sight of the givers. I will
not add another word to the description. I believe our
young friends can see, in imagination, the spectacle
presented at this momfent of consummation ; and I would
leave uppermost in their mind this aspect of a " Christmas
at the Rauhe Haus."

THE VALUATION OF HUMAN LIFE IN WAR.
If there is one sentiment that more than another marks
the civilization of the present day, it is the interest felt
m human Iffe. Sympathy with human suffering is the
most distinctive characteristic of our age. Never before
in the worid's histoty were there such associated efforts
to diminish or prevent suffering. The societies organized
for this purpose are alraost innumerable. Great calamities
by fire, pestilence, or famine are almost drowned by the
flood of benevolence thus brought to bear upon them.
The great heart of the community has thus become very
sensitive to every kind of suffering, want or wrong. Plow
the whole nation is distressed at the news of the explo
sion of fire-damp in a coal mine, by which a score,— per
haps a hundred,— working-men lose their lives ! The
Queen on. her throne telegraphs to the scene of the dis-

VALUATION OF LIFE.

417

aster to make inquity or express her sympathy. In thou
sands of family circles the fate of the poor colliers is
deplored with deep commiseration. Money pours in
from all directions to support and comfort the mourning
widows and orphans.
A shipwreck, a railway accident, or any other catas
trophe which destroys human life, produces the same
feeling in the community. Sometimes a single life put
in peril will fill a nation's heart with anxiety and grief.
For instance, take the case of Dr. Livingstone, the African
explorer. What intense and painful interest was felt ^°^
only in England, but in other countries, in his fate ! 'What
costly expeditions were fitted out to seek for him in the
hot wilds of that distant continent ! Then think of Sir
John Franklin, and of the feeling which his fate inspired
throughout the civilized world.
Now compare the feeling with which the community
hears of the loss or peril of a few human lives by these
accidents with the feelings with which the news of the
death or mutilation of thousands of men, equally precious,
on the field of battle is received. How different is the
valuation ! how different in universal sympathy ! War
seems to reverse our best and boasted civilization, to
carry back human society to the dark ages of barbarism,
to cheapen the public appreciation of human Ifle almost
to the standard of brute beasts. This has always seemed
to me one of war's worst works, because it destroys also
the sense of the ruin and raisery which the sword makes
in the world.
And this demoralization of sentiment is not confined
to the two or three nations engaged in war ; it extends to
the most distant and neutral nations, and they read of
thousands slain or mangled in a single battle with but a
little more human sensibflity than they would read the

4i8

ELIHU BURRITT.

loss of SO many pawns by a move on a chess-board.
With what deep sympathy the American nation, even to
the very slaves, heard of the suffering in Ireland by the
potato-famine 1 What ship-loads of corn and provisions
they sent over to relieve that suffering ! But how little
of that benevolent sympathy and of that generous aid
would they have given to the same amount of suffering
inflicted by war upon the people of a foreign country !
This, I repeat, is one of the very worst works of war.
It is not only the demoralization, but almost the trans
formation, of human nature. We can generally ascertain
how many lives have been lost in war. The tax-gatherer
lets us know how much money it costs. But no registry
kept on earth can tell us how much is lost to the world
by this insensibility to human suffering which a war pro
duces in the whole famfly circle of nations.

FAITH.

" Faith," says the apostie, " is the substance of things
hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." It is not in
the power of language to convey a more beautiful, philo
sophical, and comprehensive idea of that element and
action of the mind. The substance of things hoped for ;
not the fugitive, deceptive shadow of a dream, or transient
ignis fatui, dancing along the horizon of our vision ; not
exactiy the things themselves, but the substance of them,
which the long arms of faith can reach, even across the
ocean of time. And that substance, too, so much better
adapted to our present state of being than " the things
hoped for,"— it is angels' food, incarnated, materialized

FAITH.

419

for man, an aliment for his triune nature. For the soul,
— at least during its co-partnership with flesh and blood, —
never forgets the necessities of its humble, mortal col
league. When it reaches out its arms of faith into eter-
¦ nity, and feels in the palm of its God for a child's portion,
it always brings it home in a substance to which all the
senses and yearnings of human nature may sit down and .
feast. It never makes a journey to heaven without
bringing back some choice things for each of the physical
senses. To the sight A daguerreotypes on the retina of
the eye, the great city of God, the New Jerasalem,
with all its golden streets, its foundation-stones of celes
tial water, its gates of pearl, the great white throne, the
robes and ranks of the heavenly hosts, the river of Ifle,
and visions of indescribable magnificence. To another
sense it spreads out the marriage-supper of the Lamb,
and fruits and flowers of immortal taste and bloom. To *
the ear it brings the melody of the golden harps, the
strains of angel anthems. In short it creates a heaven
for every sense, and sets the whole family of them a
longing for it and then feeds them with " the substance
of the things hoped for."
What a mysterious connection between the mortal and
immortal natures of man ! What deep and deathless
sympathies unite them ! What love, stronger than death,
would bind them to a common destiny ! How the soul
longs to have the body share in its immortality ! How
fondly it clings to it from the cradle to the grave, as if it
could not survive its humanity ! It would fain forget its
own prerogative of ceaseless existence ; it would almost
forego its own inevitable immortality while seeking to
cheer its sorrowful, sickly, sinking companion with the
hopes of a new life beyond the grave. It matters not
what ghastly ills, what mutflating accidents, what loath-

42Q

ELIHU BURRITT.

some, life-eating diseases prey upon the flesh and blood •
the soul, with afl its aspirations, is never ashamed of its
mortal partner, but clings to it with new and stronger
yearnings of affection.
See the aged Christian, tottering on life's tremendous
verge ! What tender communings are going on between
,his two dissolving natures ! " Immortal spirit must we
jpart for ever here } " cries his poor, dying flesh, with all
its lisping tongues. " Look into this cold, dark grave ¦
wflt thou leave me to moulder here in dust to coalesce
and sleep forgotten with the common ground, whilst thou,
an angel blest, shalt sing and soar in a bright and glorious
Ifle ? " "And me," asks the dim, closing eye, " wilt thou
forget me when my light is quenched ? Wilt thou forget,
in yonder bright worid, the visions of heaven's magnifi
cence which thou didst promise me in return for these
sublunaty scenes, this ever-changing vista of terrestrial
beauty, which I opened to thy view ? " " Give us thy
last parting kiss," sigh the cold, marble lips, " and then
say, wflt not thou remember, when thou joinest 'the
quiring cherubim ' above, that we lisped forth thy first
infant song of love ; that we 'uttered that prayer of peni
tence that brought thee down the pardon of thy God ;
that we gave voice to thy thoughts of love, and sang thy
hymns of praise, and set the melody in thy heart to
strains of music almost divine ? " " Look on us," moan
the fleshless, palsied hands ; " when thy Lord shall greet
thee in his kingdom of rest with, ' Well done, good and
faithful servant' wflt not thou remember, then, that all
thy mercy-deeds on earth, and sweet-breathing acts, cost
us some toil ? When we have melted into dust arid thou,
with other hands, art striking the harps of that spirfl
world, wilt not thou remember then that we prepared and
bore thy secret alms to the widow's cot, and smoothed

FAITH.

421

the sick stranger's piflow, and soothed his throbbing
brow, and wet his parched lips ? " " Look on us," groan
the motionless, ice-bound feet; "when thou walkest the
golden streets of the city of thy God, with the spirits blest
and pure, wilt not thou remember that we bore thee in
these humbler walks, and on all thy missions of mercy, to
the house of God, the house of mourning, to the prisoner's
cell, to secret places of private grief, to heavenly places
in Christ Jesus ? "
" No, no ! Forget thee ?" cries the fond spirit in the
accents of its immortal love ; " forget thee, bride of my
Ifle, because thou art cold and dead ? forget thee, partner
of my joys and sorrows, because thou art gone to the
grave, where none can tell thy dust from the common
ground ? forget thee, companion in my journey through
time, because no record of thy existence shall be left on
earth ? No, never ! I wfll not leave thee, nor forget
thee. I wfll watch over thy quiet home during the cen
turies of thy slumber. Though the angels should woo
rae to take their form, I would tell them that I was
wedded, and wafling for my bride whom the Resurrection
and the Life shall bring from thy grave to my arms.
Forget thee ? No ! I will forego the full fruition oi
heaven's beatitudes, until thou shalt share with me in my
bliss. I will sip lightly at the unsealed fountains of sal
vation, tfll thou art restored to me, a glorious form, to
make my heaven complete."

36

422

ELIHU BURRITT.

TRIBUTE TO JOSEPH STURGE.*
" Good Joseph Sturge is dead 1 We often wondered,
in the years of precious companionship with him, if we
should live to write the words, 'Joseph Sturge is dead 1'
and if, after having written them, this earthly life would
have much sunlight of comfort in it to its end ; whether
indeed this natural sun of June, so brightly shining upon
the green, glad worid, would wear the same countenance,
and shed the same beams upon those nearest and dearest
to him. We had written the same sad words, save the
name, of English friends and co-workers, who were inex
pressibly dear to us— first, of Joseph Crosfield of Manches
ter, the pure, meek, and great in a heart that beat true,
even and ever, to the finest pulses of Christian sympathy
and benevolent effort ; then of George Bradshaw. Evety
intelligent man, woman, and chfld in the three kingdoms
knew George Bradshaw by name, and thousands by char
acter. These two friends, another still surviving in Man
chester, and good Joseph Sturge were the men in England
who were prime movers and workers in getting up the first
Peace Congress on the continent of Europe, in 1848.
We were associated with them as intimately as oneness of
sentiment sympathy, and effort in a great cause, could
unite man to man.

* Of all the friends who were in full sympathy with Mr. Burritt in
his peace efforts no one was more cordial and helpful than the late
Joseph Sturge. A man of noble impulses, ample means, and a heart
full of love for others, he was ever ready, by word and deed, to do
what he could for the cause of humanity. He was a prominent mem
ber of that most excellent and worthy sect, the Quakers. In Mr.
Burritt's journal he is always spoken of as "good Joseph Sturge," and
it seems highly fitting that this brief tribute to the memory of the
good man should have a place in this volume. — Ed.

JOSEPH STURGE.

42

And now Joseph Sturge is gone 1 No nation on eart
has two such men at once for one generation, and nor
probably ever wfll. All nations lose by his death. He w:
unlike Howard, unlike Clarkson, unlike Wilberforce. H
philanthropy was as pure and as large as theirs in eve>
direction. His benevolence was spherical, and alwa]
shone in full moon, like his ruddy and beaming face, upc
the dark and crooked pathways of wrong, oppression, an
sorrow in which humanfly grieved and bled. The sun (
God's love and light was, to his great heart, what the sur
mer sun of heaven is to the full moon. The reflection (
that higher illumination came off from his daily Ifle wfl
as slight a parallax, or ' shadow of turning,' as we ev<
saw in man. It was this that gave to his benevolence i
broad and perfect circumference, embracing with equ
heartiness every good word and work for man. Taku
that aspect of his life, which years of the most indefatigab
and self-sacrificing labors for emancipation of the slave
wherever bound, presented, and one would conclude th;
the great forte and direction of his philanthropy was ti
anti-slavery sentiment and enterprise ; that in this cha
acteristic he even surpassed Clarkson and Wilberforce
personal exertion and exposure to danger and hardshi
Follow him in his long and arduous travels and i
vestigations through the West India Islands, collectii
testimony for the bar of the British Pariiament agair
that slightly modified condition of chattel-hood called ti
apprenticeship system ; take a fair estimate of his labc
in England, to effect the abolition of that system, and t
complete emancipation of the slaves, and you would ha
good reason to say what was his life's aim and work i
humanity. You would hardly expect to find his active I
nevolence running out on an equal radius in another
rection.

424

ELIHU BURRITT.

JOSEPH STURGE.

425

What Joseph Sturge was in the anti-slavery cause, he
was, with equal heart interest and effort in the cause of
Peace, Temperance, Civil Freedom, Free Trade, Free
Speech, Free Education, Universal Suffrage, Universal
Liberty. He was the first and foremost in organizing a
movement for abolishing the great barbarism and folly
of war from Christendom ; a'nd what he did and endured
for^ this object would make a volume, and a volume
which, we trust, some who knew it best will write ere
long. Deeper and deeper, warmer and stronger, grew his
love and labor for this blessed cause up to the last of his
life on earth. Who that was present on those interesting
and important occasions will forget him, and the bearaing
light of his countenance, at the Peace Congress at Brus
sels, at Paris, Frankfort, -London, and Edinburgh ?
The cause of Temperance never had a truer friend
than Joseph Sturge. From the beginning of the movement
he was always ready to give to it his active cooperation
and a generous pecuniary aid. Nor were his efforts to
advance fl confined chiefly to large demonstrations, or pe
riodical public meetings. The little " Bands- of Hope,"
and tiie small, quiet vfllage operations to reclaim and save
the inebriate, and to rescue the young from the road
to ruin, found in him an untiring advocate and helper.
The temperance picnics and excursions of the children
TiVere his delight and his benevolent face never shone
more radiantly than when accompanying them on these
occasions. We recollect going with hira to the railway
station, one suramer morning, to see one of these excur
sion trains, loaded with two or three thousand children,
depart for a day's enjoyment in the country He had pro
vided every boy and girl with buns for a dinner in the
fields, and as he passed and re-passed the long train of
carriages, thronged with them as with bees, they would

i

pour out their rollicking hurrahs upon the morning air
with such an outgush of, joy, gladness, and gratitude as
touched his good, kind heart with a pleasure that shed a
new light over his countenance.
We never became acquainted with a man who lived,
moved, and had his being, so much outside of self. Ap
parently, or so far as one might judge from the daily as
pects of his character, he gave ten thoughts to the good of
others where he gave one to his own personal interests
and enjoyments. Although the rigid discipline to benevo
lent labor which he practiced involved much self-sacrifice
or self-abnegation, it seemed less the dictate of duty than
the spontaneous impulse of pleasure to him. His pleas
ant horae was to us like the house of Obed-edom, bright
and peaceful with the light of the blessing that fell upon
that resting-place of the ark of the covenant. It was ever
open to us for a day's rest from those labors which the
good man shared and approved. But we sometimes felt
almost reproved for a sense of fatigue by his unmoved
zeal and activity in doing good. On a cold, drizzly, foggy
Sunday morning, while it was yet dark, he would arise and
walk a mile to meet the teachers in a ragged school at
half-past seven, to speak kind words to them, and encour
age thera with his up-cheering sympathy, as well as to
shed the beaming of his fatherly face upon the poor
children, gathered in from parentless coverts of poverty,
from courts and alleys hidden, unsunned, in the wretched
ness of ignorance and vice.
He loved children and children's ways, and delighted
to see them at their innocent and exhilarating sports. At
the time we visited him most frequently there was no
play-ground for the boys of the neighborhood, where they
could disport themselves at cricket and other healthy
games. It was just like him to procure a field for them,
36*

426

ELIHU BURRITT.

and we never saw his broad, bland face glow with more of
the glorious beauty of a large and happy heart than when
a hafl dozen of bright, mirthful boys came around him
m their shirt sleeves, hat in hand, and, with their fore
heads beaded with the moisture of the play, thanked him
in their boys' way for the field he had opened for them.
It was a beautiful conception of one of the artists who
painted his portrait, when he represented him with his
fatherly hand laid upon a little slave child, as indicating
those unparalleled efforts he made for the emancipation of
the African race. He loved children wherever he met
them, and nothing would melt him sooner than stories
about their privations and sorrows. When we were trav
eling together on our peace mission through Schlesswig-
Holstein, he would stop to look at the flaxen-haired chil
dren playing by the roadside, and to give them the smile
which they would interpret better than his English words.
It was given the good Joseph Sturge to labor for the
benefit of mankind, and for God's kingdom on earth, up to
the last day of his life. No dark valley of the shadow of
death lay between him and the blessed land of his ever
lasting rest and reward. In a moment he received and
obeyed the summons. In the balmy, blooming month of
May, 1859, a voice, stifl and low, came down to him out
of heaven. It said, ' Friend, come up higher 1 ' And he
went up higher."

THOUGHTS ON HIS MOTHER'S GRAVE.

427

THOUGHTS ON MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
Letter to a Friend in 1844.
Dear Friend :
There is a spot of earth, a little mound, as yet unfringed
by a single blade of grass, to which my spirit would beckon
yours. Lt is my mother's grave. You have wept over the
sodded resting place of a beloved parent ; come then, come
see where they laid my mother, and such a mother as
scarcely ever was laid 'in the grave, since graves were
made. The hour has corae, has past ; the hour of separation :
yet I cannot believe her gone. Even now, while the world
sleeps in the stfllest watches of the night her bland, heav
enly spirit seeras near me while I write. Once I thought
the sun would be darkened when she died, and evety star
go out in the firmament of my soul, and the birds would
strike their languid wings in mournful silence, and my
heart be sad and songless. But not so. I have hardly
shed a tear, and yet once I felt that I should fill her grave
with them. But she lives I I know she lives, and loves
me still : and this sustains and comforts me. Yes, she
lives nearer the Throne of Grace, where angels pray, and
there, I am sure, she prays for me.
No, she is not dead. He who said, " I am the resur
rection and the life," says that she is not dead. He who
said to the dying malefactor, " This day thou shalt be with
me in paradise," He says she is not dead, but sleepeth.
Sleepeth I what sleeps ? her disembodied spirit ? No !
that has just awoke from sleep, to a new life in the presence
of God ; to a newness pi life in Him who lives, and who is
her Ifle ; to the life of angels ; endowed, in kind, with all the

428

ELIHU BURRITT.

faculties they possess ; clothed upon with their glorious
immortality ; individualized among the just made perfect •
put into communion and communication with the Father
of spirits, by the same quahties of being, by the same fac
ulties, by which fl shall know and be known, see and be
seen, love and be loved, through afl the cycles of unend
ing duration. Sleepeth! What sleeps? the bandage torn
from her spirfl's eyes, that shut out the overwhelming vis
ion of God's presence, and gloty, and brightness, and bliss,
insupportable to flesh and blood. That sleeps and will
sleep for ever, unless she be banished from heaven.
My mother's grave, said I ? Come, see where they laid
her ? No ! she is not here! She has risen, she has risen !
When the last pulsation of this earthly life quivered in the
frozen fountain of her heart, it was then that the angels
rolled away the stone of her sepulcher, and she arose in
Him who has risen, and "is the resurrection and the life,"
She is this day with Him in paradise ; not waiting there
for lips to join in the songs of the redeemed ; not wafling
for another resurrection to give her hands to strike their
golden harps, or ears to hear then celestial music, or eyes
to look upon Him who sflteth upon the Throne, and upon
the Lamb for ever, or feet to walk the streets of the New
Jerusalem. Blest spflfl ! at this stfll hour of midnight come whisper
to mine, unrestful and pensive. Come, and in the spirit
utterance with which thou communest wflh the angels, tell
me,— in that city of thy God, whose gloty is its sun, lack-
est thou anything of, or alike, thy old tabernacle of clay, to
make thy bliss complete .?, Is there anything lying here
in my mother's grave that thou wouldst have in heaven .?
Hast thou left behind thee aught of thy being that thou
wouldst now recover in that spirit-world, to make up the
complement of thy glorious existence? Say, is there

THOUGHTS ON HIS MOTHEr's GRAVE.

429

a fountain of bliss at which angels drink, sealed against
thy spirit-lips ? Is there a scene which they see opening
upon endless years and space, and the infinity of God's
attributes and glory shut out of thy new vision ? Are the
things which the human eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,
nor heart conceived, withheld thy fraition, till time
shafl be no more with mortals here below ; or till some
other distant resurrection shall supply thee with new or
gans of sense, afl unflke the angels' ? Thou hast finished
thy course. In years of service thou wert elder than the
Apostle ; has thy Redeemer and His said to thee, — well
done, good and faithful servant, — and left thee, standing in
the threshold of the joy of thy Lord ; waiting until this
grave of common ground shafl give thee back a hand to
reach the crown that hangs by His throne for thee ?
. Methinks I hear, — yes, 'tis thy spirit's whisper : "He thai
believeth in Him who is the resurrection and .the Ufe, never
dies."

APPENDIX.*

On page 19, reference is made to a letter which Mr.
Burritt wrote to Mr. William Lincoln, of Worcester, Mass.,
whose kindly aid and encouragement he had often expe
rienced. After expressing the wish that he might be
employed to translate some German book, whereby he
might gain both mental discipline and pecuniaty profit
he makes a frank statement of what he had already
achieved in the "pursufl of knowledge under difficulties."
This he did without the remotest idea that what he wrote
would ever be seen by any individual other than the per
son to whom it was addressed. But Mr. Lincoln was
so much pleased with the letter that he forwarded it to
the late Hon. Edward Everett, who, in turn, was so much
gratified with its contents that he read it while address
ing an educational convention in Taunton, Massachusetts,
October 10, 1838. This letter was pubhshed in the Bos
ton papers and its writer was alluded to as " The Learned
Blacksmith." Being naturally of a very diffident disposi-
* The few pages that follow will contain some items and incidents
which were not at hand at the proper time, together with some ad
ditional notes on the last days of Mr. Burritt, with a somewhat full
account of his funeral obsequies. Though the latter were chiefly
of local interest it is thought they may appropriately appear in this
place as a matter of record. — Ed.

432

ELIHU BURRITT.

tion* he was, to use his own words, " astonished and
dumbfounded," by the publicity thus given to his name
and efforts. With the exception of a few introductory
lines the letter was as follows :
" I was the youngest of many brethren, and my parents
were poor. My means of education were limited to the
advantages of a district school ; and those, again, were
circumscribed by my father's death, which deprived me,
at the age of fifteen, of those scanty opportunities which
1 had previously enjoyed. A few months after his de
cease, I apprenticed myself to a blacksmith in my native
village. Thither I carried an indomitable taste for read
ing, which I had previously acquired through the medium
of the social library, all the historical works in which I
had at that time perused. At the expiration of a little
more than half of my apprenticeship, I suddenly con
ceived the idea of studying Latin. Through the assist
ance of an elder brother, who had himself obtained a
collegiate education by his own exertions, I completed
my Virgil during the evenings of one winter. After some
time devoted to Cicero, and a few other Latin authors, I
* As evidence of this the following anecdote is told of him.
When about twelve years of age one of his sisters was married, and,
as usual in such cases, the occasion brought together many of the
family friends, — but as the important hour drew near, young Elihu
was missing. Diligent search was made and he was at length found
in the cellar, where he had concealed himself to avoid meeting the
assembled party. This diffidence was a part of his very nature, — but
when duty called, or the -advocacy of some important cause or prin
ciple devolved upon him, he was firm, bold, and decided, though
otherwise he was like a bashful school-boy, glad to get in a " back
seat." Always pleasant and genial, and ever charming as a conver
sationalist, he never thrust himself or his opinions upon others, and
unless impelled by conscientious convictions of duty, or drawn out in
familiar conversation, he was, in feeling and manner, retiring and
unassuming.

THE LETTER.

433

commenced the Greek. At this time it was necessaty
that I should devote every hour of daylight and a part
of the evening, to the duties of my apprenticeship. Still
I carried my Greek grammar in my hat and often found
a moment, when I was heating some large iron, when I
could place my book open before me, against the chimney
of my forge, and go through with tupto, tupteis, tuptei,
unperceived by my fellow-apprentices, and, to my confu
sion of face, sometimes with a detrimental effect to the
charge in my fire. At evening I sat down, unassisted
and alone, to the Iliad* of Homer, twenty books of which
measured my progress in that language during the even
ings of another winter.
" I next turned to the raodern languages, and was much
gratified to learn that my knowledge of Latin furnished
me with a key to the literature of most of the languages
of Europe. This circurastance gave a new irapulse to
the desire of acquainting myself, with the philosophy,
derivation, and affinity of the different European tongues.
I could not be reconcfled to limit myself, in these investi
gations^ to a few hours, after the arduous labors of the
day. I therefore laid down my hamraer and went to
New Haven, where I recited to native teachers, in French,
Spanish, Gerraan, and Italian. At the expiration of two
years I returned to the forge, bringing with me such
books in those languages as I could procure. When I
had read these books through, I commenced the Hebrew,
with" an awakened desire for examining another field ;
and, by assiduous application, I was enabled, in a few
weeks, to read this language with such facility, that I
allotted it to myself, as a task, to read two chapters in
the Hebrew Bible, before breakfast, each moming ; this,
* He had previously made a beginning in this book, at New Haven.
37

434

ELIHU BURRITT.

and an hour at noon being all the time that I could devote
to myself during the day.
"After becoming somewhat familiar with the Hebrew, I
looked around me for the means of initiating myself into
the fields of Oriental literature, and to my deep regret
and concern, I found my progress in this direction hedged
up by the want of requisite books. I immediately began
to devise means of obviating this obstacle ; and, after
^ many plans, I concluded to seek a place as a saflor, on
board some ship bound to Europe, thinking in this way
to have opportunities for collecting, at different ports,
such works in the modern and Oriental languages as I
found necessary for my object. I left the forge and my
native place, to carty this plan into execution. I traveled
on foot to Boston, a distance of more than a hundred
miles, to find some vessel bound tb Europe. In this I
was disappointed ; and while revolving in my mind what
step next to take, I accidentally heard of the 'American
Antiquarian Society,' in Worcester. I immediately bent
my steps towards this place. I visited the hall of the
Antiquarian Society, and found there, to my infinite grat
ification, such a coUection of ancient modern, and Ori
ental languages, as I never before conceived to be collected
in one place ; and, sir, you may imagine with what senti
ments of gratitude I was affected, when, upon evincing a
desire to examine some of these rich and rare works I
was kindly invited to an unlimited participation in all
the benefits of this noble institution. Availing myself of
the kindness of the directors, I spent about three hours,
daily, at the hall, which, with an hour at noon, and about
three in the evening, make up the portion of the day
which I appropriate to my studies, the rest being occupied
in arduous manual labor. Through the facilities afforded
by this institution, I have been able to add so much to

OCEAN PENNY POSTAGE.

435

my previous acquaintance with the ancient modern, and
Oriental languages, as to be able to read upwards oi fifty
oi them with more or less facility."
Mr. Everett added, — " I trust I shall be pardoned bythe
author of this letter, and the gentieman to whom it was
addressed, for the liberty which I have taken, unexpected,
I am sure, by both of them, in thus making it public. It
discloses a resolute purpose of improvement under ob
stacles and difficulties of no ordinary kind, which excites
my admiration, I may say, my veneration. It is enough
to make one who has good opportunities for education
hang his head in shame."

B.
OCEAN PENNY POSTAGE.
The adoption of Ocean Penny Postage was a source
of great joy to Mr. Burritt. He had labored for it with
all the zeal, energy, and wisdom he could bring to bear
upon the subject. He felt that the prosecution of evety
good work, requiring correspondence, would be greatly
promoted and facilitated if postage could be reduced.
He knew full well what a help and blessing it -would
prove to the thousands of poor emigrants who came to
America; and now that the desired result has been
secured, — and largely through his agency, — miflions wiU
have occasion to hold his name in most grateful remem
brance. In his efforts for this object he had the hearty
sympathy of some of the greatest and best men of the
times. While meditating a plan of operation for securing
cheap ocean postage, he wrote to Hon. Edward Everett

436

ELIHU BURRITT.

Stating his intentions and asking the opinion of the
learned gentleman, which was given in the following letter :
"Cambridge, Mass., 31st May, 1847.
Mr. Elihu Burritt, London :
My Dear Sir.- It gives me sincere pleasure to receive
a line from you by the last steamer, and to learn from it
that you are laboring with so much Ifle and heart and
with such success in the cause of Peace. Your project
of a foreign penny postage is admirable. All the reasons
in favor of such a postage at home apply with equal force
to international postage. There is, I suppose, a vague
idea, that to give up the one shilling steriing on American
letters would be favoring us, at the expense of the Eng
lish revenue. It is very doubtful whether it would event
ually prove a losing arrangement. But if it were, the
saving to the individual payers of postage is, at any rate,
as much for the benefit of England as of America. In
favor of a foreign penny postage, there is one circumstance
that does not apply to domestic mails. The great multi
plication of cheap letters has increased the expense of
transportation. The service is more costly. But Mr.
Cunard's shoulders are broad and strong ; and you may
increase the number of mail-bags twenty-fold without
'.tiring him.
I hope you wfll meet with entire success in this excel
lent move of yours. I have spoken of it only as a mat
ter of expense and accommodation to the business world ;
but I can scarce think of anything which would give so
much new life to all international communication, — and
contribute so much to the forraation of a Public Opinion
of ihe Civilized World.
I remain, with the most friendly wishes.
Yours faithfully, Edward Everett."

PENNY POSTAGE.

437

The subject was brought before the Senate by Mr.
Sumner, March, 1852, in the following resolution, which
he asked might be laid on the table and printed for the
use of the members :
" Whereas, the inland postage on a letter for any distance
within 3000 miles is three cents when paid, and five
cents fl unpaid, while the ocean postage on a similar
letter is twenty-four cents, being a burdensome tax
amounting, often, to a prohibition of foreign corres
pondence, — and yet letters can be carried at less cost
on sea than on land ;
"And whereas, by increasing correspondence, and also by
bringing into the mails mailable matter now often clan
destinely* conveyed, cheap ocean postage would become
self-supporting ;
"And whereas, cheap ocean postage would tend to quicken
commerce ; to promote the intercourse of families and
friends separated by the ocean ; to multiply the bonds
of peace and good-will among men and nations, — and
thus, while important to evety cflizen, fl would become
* This was done in various ways ; one of which was resorting to
certain devices or marks on newspapers, — which were well understood
by the parties most interested. These papers, though much heavier
than letters, could be forwarded at less than a tenth of letter charge.
But the sending of letters by private conveyance was the source of
the greatest loss to the post-office department. This was done exten
sively and safely in the following manner : A certain person was about
to leave Ireland for America. This fact became known to scores of
people who had friends in the latter country, to whom they would
like to communicate by letter. It was against the law to send sealed
packages or letters by private conveyance, and to evade this every
person leaving for America was entrusted with hundreds of open
letters, to be folded and mailed on the arrival of the steamer at its
destined port, — thus entirely avoiding the heavy ocean postage ;
though the correspondents were in this way subjected to the unpleas
ant necessity of having all they wrote open to the perusal of others.
37*

438

ELIHU BURRITT.

the active ally especially of the merchant the emigrant,
and the philanthropist — therefore,
"Be it resolved, That the President of the United States
be requested to open negotiations with the European
Powers, particularly with the Governments of Great
Britain and France, for the establishment of Cheap Ocean
Postage." This step by Mn Sumner, and the proposed presenta
tion of the subject in Pariiament, gave Mn Burrflt great
joy, and in his journal he wrote, " I now intend to keep
the subject before the people until the work is accom
plished." And it may be said that he did this by lectur
ing,- by conversing, by newspaper correspondence, by the
circulation of Olive Leaflets, and in other ways, until the
popular feeling was so strong that cheap ocean postage
was established, partially in 1869, and more fully in 1874,
and has already not only proved a great blessing to the
world, but also resulted in the great increase of revenue
to the mail departments of the various countries concerned.
In September of the same year Mr. Burritt first fully
developed the proposition for universal Ocean Penny
Postage, and soon commenced his efforts for its attain
ment He lectured, scattered Olive Leaves, and consulted
with prorainent citizens on this important subject
Various devices were adopted for the purpose of keeping
it before the people. Letter paper was prepared, and
freely used, at the head of which was the picture of a
ship, on the topsail of which were the words, " Ocean
Penny Postage," and directly beneath the same was this
couplet : Fair speed the ship whose signal is unfurled, —
An " Ocean Penny Postage " for the world.
Envelopes were used on which a mail steamer was rep
resented, with foresails spread, bearing the motto " The

CHARLES SUMNER's LETTER.

439

world's want and should be Britain's boon,— 'An Ocean
Penny Postage.' " On another envelope was tiie repre
sentation of a saflor, standing upon the deck of a depart
ing steamer, holding a banner with the inscription :
" Britain ! bestow this boon and be in blessing blest ;
Ocean Penny Postage
Will link all lands with thee in trade and peace.^'
With unabated industty an^ perseverance Mr. Burritt
labored for the furtherance of an object so dear to him,
and so important to the world. "Littie by littie "he
gained ground, both in this countty and in Europe. In
1852 the late Charies Sumner wrote as follows:
" Senate Chamber, Washington. March 10, 1852.
My Dear Burritt : I enclose a memorandum of the
first movement in the Senate for Ocean Postage. It will
be followed up, I trust, with success. Indeed, the intrinsic
equity and humanity of the idea commend it more than
speech or petition. I look with interest to your English
movement. I hope you wfll persevere without cessation.
Such a reform wifl be a true step on the road to universal
international peace.- God bless you.
Ever yours, Chas. Sumner."
In May, 1852, Mr. Burritt in company with Sir John
Boileau, Sir John Burgoyne, Wm. Brown, M. P., and two
or three other prominent gentlemen, called upon the late
Abbott Lawrence, who was then our Minister at the Court
of St. James. Of this call Mr, Burritt thus writes : " Mr.
Lawrence received us with great urbanity and entered
into the subject with great interest. It was arranged that
Sirs J. Bofleau and J. Burgoyne should first present the
subject which they did with ability and earnestness. In

-1^

440

elihu burritt.

his remarks Mr. Lawrence several times alluded to me
and my efforts, so that I felt called upon to speak at some
length. Mr. Lawrence followed in a most cordial manner.
He was anxious to do all in his power to promote the
postal reform between the two countries. He thought a
penny ocean postage would pay in five years. But he
should not hesitate about its adoption, even fl fl did not
pay for awhfle. 'What,' said he, 'is $100,000 from the
National Treasury against the great blessings which would
flow from such a system?' He further stated that he
had written home for authority to notify the British Gov
ernment that the existing postal treaty would not be re
newed after the current year."
At about this time Mr. Burritt set about securing peti
tions to Pariiament on the subject He sent blank forms
to all quarters and received numerous returns, of which
the two following are specimens :
"Sherbrook, Canada, March 31, 1852.
Dear Sir : 1 herewith forward you our mite* towards
furthering the philanthropic object you have so long, so
earnestiy, and so ably advocated. An exile from my
home for neariy a quarter of a century, what would ray
life have been without constant intercourse by letter with
the dear and distant ones ! How many are, and have
been, debarred a like solace from want of means. God
speed you in your good work, is the earnest prayer of
your obedient servant Thos. Wiley."
"Bytown, Canada West, April, 1852.
Dear Sir : I have the honor to enclose herewith a
memorial from the Town Council of Bytown, to Her
Majesty the Queen, praying for the reduction of the
* A well signed petition.

$'

JOHN BRIGHT IN PARLIAMENT.

l5S;'

441

Ocean Postage. The obtaining of so desirable a boon
can be but a question of time, and from the fact that the
pioneers of the age have undertaken this reform, there
can be but littie doubt of its success at an early day. It
will be the proudest monument of their philanthropy that
has ever been erected, and entitle them to the gratitude
of the millions in the old worid and the new.
You, sir, have the deserved honor of first giving birth
to the scheme, and that you may soon see it realized is
the ardent wish of Your obedient servant,
R. W. ScoTT, Mayor."
As a proof of the interest awakened so largely through
the operations of Mr. Burritt and his co-workers, on the
25th of June John Bright M. P., called attention to the
subject in the House of Parliament in the following words,
as reported in the London Times oi June 26th, 1852 :
"Ocean Penny Postage.
" Mr. Bright said the Right Honorable, the Chancellor
of the Exchequer, would be aware that a number of peti
tions had been presented in favor of the establishment of
reduced postage rates between this and foreign countries.
The scheme was generally known as an Ocean Penny
Postage, and the object of the promoters was that the
ocean postage should be reduced to one penny, leaving
the rates of internal postage to be fixed at whatever the
various countries might think best. The emigrations,
now going forward from our shores, made the question
one of very much more importance than it had been at
any former period, and it was of essential importance
that the utmost facflities of communication should be
allowed, in order that all which tended to harmony and
peace should be maintained as much as possible. The

442

ELIHU BURRITT.

question would be brought before the House in the next
Parliament either "by a direct motion, or by a motion for
a committee of inquiry, and if the Right Honorable gen
tleman should have time, during the recess, it would be
very desirable that he should turn his attention to this
question. There is reason to suppose that the loss of
revenue would not be considerable, and, in all probability,
in a very short time, the receipts from Ocean Postage
would be increased by the enormous increase that would
take place in the number of letters transmitted,"
The Chancellor of the Exchequer expressed the fear
that the recess would be very much occupied, but said he
would endeavor to bear in mind the important subject to
which his attention had been called.
At about this time Mr. Burritt wrote these words :
" Everything tends to the speedy realization of a universal
Ocean Penny Postage. Nothing has been lost by the
delay which has attended its introduction into Parliament
in the shape of a formal motion. Nearly evety day sorae
incident transpires, well calculated to impress upon the
public mind the importance and feasibility of this great
postal reform. Every day at least one ship freighted with
emigrants unmoors from some British port, and spreads
its broad wings for Australia, and another for America.
And every ship-load of men, women, and children thus
dislocated from the homes of Great Britain, is a new and
pathetic argument in behalf of Ocean Penny Postage.
For several months it has been almost the last act of the
emigrants to Australia, just before weighing anchor, to
sign a petition to Pariiament for reduction of Postage."
Persons who had no sympathy with Mr. Burritt and
particulariy with his Peace efforts, have sometimes asked,
" What good has been achieved, and what have all his
labors amounted to ? Wars have not yet ceased, nor has

THE RESULTS.

443

rr

Christian brotherhood become universal ; what has been
accomplished ? "
Nearly 1900 years ago the Prince of Peace came and
promulgated the same doctrines, but we stfll have wars
and rumors of wars, — but on this account does any
Christian raise a question as to the benefit of Christ's
mission on earth ? Is not evety faithful worker a pro
moter of the blessed principles of the gospel ? All that
is claimed for Mr. Burritt is that he gave the best years
of his life, and the devotion of his talents and acquire
ments, with the sympathies of his large heart and noble
impulses, to the advancement of Christ's cause, — and
especially for the promotion of " Peace and good-will on
earth." And it may be said that he gave his efforts more
unreservedly, unselfishly, and continuously for the cause
of humanity than any other man of the present centuty.
It is too early for man to say how much has been accom
plished, but when the last great account is made up, who
can doubt that it will appear that the mission and labors
of our departed friend were largely instrumental in ad
vancing the blessed principles of "Him who spake as
never man spake " ? If his labors were in the line of
the Saviour's teaching they will be'blessed, and the good
seed sown by him will continue to spring up and bear
fruit to the glory of the Prince of Peace and the good oi
mankind, long after the voice of the doubter is hushed in
death. Of his efforts for cheap postage the world is already
reaping the benefits, — and these will largely contribute to
the furtherance of the greater and nobler principles of
peace and good fellowship in the world. It will doubtless
yet appear that the attainment of this object was essen
tial to more rapid and complete success in the promulga
tion of whatever might tend to the true elevation of man-

444

ELIHU BURRITT.

kind. Mr. Burritt's labors for tiiis cause alone were suf
ficient to entitle him to rank among the greatest benefac
tors and philanthropists of the age.

C.
OLIVE LEAVES.

In the prosecution of his labors in the cause of human
ity, Mr. Burritt used the Olive Leaf Mission to great ad
vantage. Brief arguments and appeals were sent forth
on scraps of paper, headed by the picture of a Dove bear
ing an Olive Leaf. The following sent to this countty in
behalf of Ireland in 1847 wfll serve as a specimen.
AN OLIVE LEAF FOR THE AMERICAN PEOPLE,
Friends of Humanity P
Hundreds of your fellow-beings are dying, almost daily
dying, of starvation in poor Ireland. Will you not send
them bread from your plenteous boards? It has been
stated that more have perished by famine, in that afilicted
land, than those who fell by the cholera in that dreadful
year of death. A penny a day will save a human life.
Will you let thousands die when they can be rescued so
cheaply from the grave ? The God and Father of our
Lord Jesus Christ forbid! Farmers, mechanics, mer
chants, men of the United States, children, wives, and
mothers, will you let thousands of your kind be thrown
uncoflJned into the grave, when two cents' worth of Indian
meal a day will save a human life? Mothers, sisters,
daughters, wives of America 1 there are thousands of your
sex dying naked upon the damp, cold ground in Ireland,

¦ ;
ft-

CORRESPONDENCE.

445

without even straw to lie upon. Wfll you not look into
your wardrobes and give what you can spare to the poor
creatures, perishing with famine and the famine-fever?
May the God of all grace and mercy and compassion
touch the heart of America in view of such a spectacle
of wretchedness. Anything — anything to eat or wear, —
will come to thousands like a ministration of heaven's
mercy. The English Government I am glad to say, has
promised to pay the freight of all contributions of food
and clothing which may be forwarded from the United
States. Wfll not the railroad companies in the United
States, and steamboat companies, transport from the
interior to the seaboard all such contributions free of
charge 1 All these contributions may be consigned to the
Society of Friends in England, who have made arrange
ments for extensive distribution to the starving, or to any
other parties that may be preferred. I cannot add another
word.

D,

CORRESPONDENCE.

Mr, Burritt had a very extensive correspondence,
but nearly all his letters appertained to matters of
special interest, or importance, at the time. Only
two or three of these will find space here, though
doubtless many exist which are worthy of a publi
cation. New Britain, Conn., July 8, 1872.
Dear Friend; All the Friends of Peace on both sides
of the Atiantic must rejoice to see the dark and drizzly
38

V

446

ELIHU BURRITT.

logs and vapors, that have so long hung over the Geneva
tribunal, clear away, and the judgment of that august
court come forth as the noonday. To my mind this ver
dict of reason and justice is the greatest and most sig
nificant victoty either ever won. I am even more than
reconciled to the vety difficulties that have delayed this
result They have been a good discipline to the two
nations to train then tempers and reflections to forbear
ance and mutual consideration. It was worth a good
deal of the trouble and anxiety we have experienced, to
elicfl this proof of enlightened progress of the popular
mind in both countries. Certainly never before in the
history of the world has there been so much popular
mind in all civilized countries concentrated upon one
question as this before the Geneva tribunal. Never did
the popular mind so fully declare flself or exert such
power ori an International question of equity and justice.
Whfle the few chosen arbitrators were sitting upon that
question another quiet tribunal, numbering a hundred
millions of spontaneous jurymen, was passing judgraent
upon it. In that court of public opinion sat nine-tenths
of all the reading and thinking population of the United
States, who, honoring their best patriotisra in loyalty to
justice, declared against the " consequential claims " in the
American case.
Here then we realize what well pays for all this delay,
doubt, and anxiety. We have the two grandest courts
ever erected on earth sitting simultaneously on the same
question. Here we have an arbitration on a scale of judgment
we never anticipated, and all nations may well rejoice at
the issue.
We hope that you will go on with your motion in Par
liament for organizing arbitration as a permanent and

LETTER TO AMASA WALKER.

447

universal system for. the solution of international difli-
culties. Surely you could not do fl under more hopeful
auspices. If arbitration has succeeded in this vety com
plicated case, no other can arise that it cannot satisfacto
rily solve.
You have doubtless seen the report of oiir anniversaty
meeting in Boston, on the evening before the opening of
the Peace Jubflee. It was the greatest meeting ever held
on this continent in connection with the cause of Peace.
The Music Hall was filled to its utmost capacity, and
thousands could not find entrance. Ever yours, Elihu Burritt.
To Henry Richard, Esq., M. P,»
In a letter dated Oxford, N. H., Aug. 24, 1874, Mr.
* Burritt wrote to his dear friend, the late Hon. Amasa
Walker,t as follows : " You may be surprised to receive
a letter from me at this place. Instead of being in Gen
eva, as I intended to be, I am in this pleasant and quiet
village. I started for England, — meaning to take the
steamer at Quebec for Liverpool ; but on my way my old
complaint came upon me and I feared to venture alone
upon such a voyage, and therefore I came to this place,
* Frequent mention is made of Rev. Henry Richard in this volume.
He was, for several years, an eamest and beloved co-laborer with
Mr. Burritt in the Peace cause, and was always held in the highest
esteem by him. This letter was written to Mr. Richard when a mem
ber of Parliament, as he is at present. Rev. Henry Richard and
Henry Richard, M. P., are one and the same.
t Among Mr. Burritt's long cherished friends Amasa Walker and
his brother Freeman, of Brookfield, Mass.,— the latter now living,—
were prominent. He always alluded to the former as " dear Amasa
Walker," and when death removed his life-long friend, Mr. Burritt
was a sincere mourner, and felt that this world had lost one of its
strongest attachments for him.

448

ELIHU BURRITT.

where my sister and nieces have joined me, and here we
shall spend a few days, and perhaps weeks. I feel sad
that I must give up the European trip, as I was anxious
once more to speak, or appear for our great cause. But
I now feel that my day is over for such journeys and
labors in foreign lands, and that what 1 do hereafter must
be at home with my pen. I have reason to be grateful
that my flfe has been prolonged so many years when I
have, several times, been so near the grave."
A few months before his death Mr. Burritt was greatly
pleased in receiving a visit from some of his dear Wor
cester friends. Of this he thus writes to one of them
after their return home :
" Your visfl here made me a real red letter day in my
rather monotonous existence. It was indeed a great joy
to me to welcome such dear Worcester friends, and to
live over with them the happy memories of so many past
years, — for I was virtually born in Worcester, so far as
my character and reputation in the public mind are con
cerned. So all that appertains to Worcester is interesting
to me, and I even feel an interest in strangers who date,
or come from that city. It was a great treat to rae to
have so much of its recent histoty from you at your recent
visit. I have just heard of the death of Gen. Heard, at
the age of 85 years. I lived three years in his family
while conducting the Christian Citizen, and his house was
always a pleasant home for me. It saddens me to think
that the men and women who were in the prime of life at
that time have gone, or are now bending under the weight
of years. But the raemoty of them survives as fresh and
vivid in my mind as ever. I remember with interest all
whom I knew in Worcester.
" Evety night I lie, as it were, under the wing of Worces
ter, or under the album coverlet which you and other
ladies of Worcester raade and presented to the Olive

LETTER TO MOSES PIERCE.

449

Leaf Mission. It was sold at a fair in England, held to
raise funds for the work of the mission, and presented to
me by those who bought it. So for twenty-five years it
has covered my bed and proved both a comfort and com
fortable to me. The Worcester names and mottoes on it
are quite, fresh in my memoty, though several of the
names have been written on gravestones since they were
written on the coverlet." New Britain, Dec. 21, 1878.
My dear old Friend Pierce .•*
Many thanks for your kind and welcome letter ; such
tokens of remembrance of " the goodly fellowship " of
years long gone by are vety precious to me. Indeed, the
family circle of the old Christian Citizen is thinned down
to a few survivors. Their names are all dear to me, both
living and dead. When I meet an old reader of the
Citizen, it seems as if we were connected by blood rela
tionship. A few days before I received your letter, I had
one from an old gentleman of Auburn, N. Y., 83 years of
age, who took the Citizen, and speaks of it -with almost
affectionate interest.
Yes, we have lived to see wonderful changes, which it
is difficult to realize as accomplished facts. I look back
over the last thirty years of my life, and all I witnessed
and experienced in that period, with wonder, as if it were
all a dream.
I am almost astonished at my o-wn reformatoty and
literary labors. The other day I received a note from
Dr. Allibone, Philadelphia, asking me to give a list of the
books I have written, and periodicals I have edited. I
did so as well as my memory would allow, and found they
* This letter, one of the last, of any length, written by him, was to
his life-long friend, Moses Pierce, Esq,, of Norwich, Conn.
38*

450

ELIHU BURRITT.

numbered thirty-two. Some of the reforms I have labored
for so long have realized a large success. Ocean penny
postage is now a fixed fact, for you may send a postal
card to any town in Great Britain for one penny, or two
cents. The movement that my friend Mr. Miles and I orig
inated, one tempestuous day, while shut up in a New Bed
ford hotel, has come to an astonishing development We
there drew up a call for a convention of American lawyers
and jurists to form an international code association.
Six annual Congresses have already been held at different
European capflals, branch societies have been formed in
nearly all the civilized nations, and the international code
association has become the most powerful organization in
Christendom, enlisting the most distinguished jurists and
publicists of the worid. The next Congress is to be held
in London with the Lord Chief Justice of England as
President. You may easily conceive that the wonderful
growth of this great movement from so small a beginning
is a source of great satisfaction to me. My greatest
regret in connection with it is that Mn Mfles did not live
to see such results of his indefatigable labors as a pioneer
in the cause.
For myself, as you well know, I have been an invalid
for a long time. I ara able to read most of the day and
to write an occasional letter. I have even got off two
elaborate articles for the press in the last few weeks,
though each cost me several days' labor; but this will
end my literary work and I must henceforth " rest on my
oars." I hope you may be coming this way before long, and
that I shall have the pleasure of seeing you once more in
the flesh. Ever faithfully yours,
' Elihu Burritt.

concluding remarks.

451

E.
CONCLUDING REMARKS,

WITH AN ACCOUNT OF HIS DEATH, FUNERAL CEREMONIES, ETa
Having devoted about twenty years of his active life to
the several objects spoken of, — all bearing more or less
directly upon the .progress of humanity, — and subsequently
a few years in the Birmingham consulate, Mr. Burritt as
previously stated, returned to his native town to pass life's
autumn among kindred and friends, by whom he was
greatly beloved. Literally almost penniless he had gone
forth as the advocate of peace. Christian brotherhood,
and kindred causes, and when his special mission for
these ceased his pecuniary resources were about as limited
as when it commenced. With a heart overflowing with
love and sympathy for mankind,* he had labored unceas-
* Mary Howitt, the well-known and honored English authoress,
thus wrote : "Among the many remarkable men in this remarkable
age, no one seems to us more worthy of notice than Elihu Burritt.
He is not merely remarkable for his knowledge of languages, — a
knowledge which is perfectly stupendous, and which, having been
acquired under circumstances which, at first sight, would seem to pre
sent insuperable barriers to anything beyond the most ordinary ac
quirements, may naturally excite our surprise and admiration, — but
he is remarkable in a high moral degree, and this it is, combined with
his great learning, which entitles him to our love and reverence.
His many-languaged head is wedded to a large and benevolent heart,
every throb of which is a sentiment of brotherhood to all mankind.
. . . He has not read Homer, and Virgil, and the Sagas of the
North, and the Vedas of the East, to admire only, and to teach
others to admire, the strong-handed warriol-, cutting his way to glory
through prostrate and bleeding thousands : he has read only to learn
'more emphatically that God made all men to be brethren, and that
Christ gave as the sum total of his doctrines that they should love
one another. This is the end of all his reading and leaming ; and

452

ELIHU BURRITT.

- ingly for the suppression of evfls, the removal or lessening
of burdens, and the promotion of international kindness
and good-wfll. The same kind Providence which called
him to his work, attended him and supplied all his real
wants. Though at times the way seemed dark, and his
scanty means were well-nigh exhausted, light and help
would come from some unexpected source, so that he was
often made to feel and exclaim, " Thus far the Lord has
provided ; I shall not want ; I wfll not doubt, nor will I
despond." Wflh him money had no value only so far as he might
use fl to advance the great interests so near to his heart,
and when he retfled from his special mission he was rich
only in the kind words he had spoken and the good deeds
he had performed. ' He had gone up and down Christen
dom, scattering broadcast those seeds of peace, good
will, and brotherly kindness which will continue to spring
up and bear rich frufl, in all the years to come, to the
good of mankind, and to the glory of God.
Previous to Mr. Burritt's last visit to England he had
negotiated for a small farm on the westem margin of
Ne'w Brflain, to the improvement of which he hoped tp
devote the declining years of his life. These acres were
not selected for their fertflity so much as for the delight
ful and picturesque views they afforded. He was wont
to speak of the three hflls, which half girt the town, as
the " three jewels around the neck of New Britain,"— and
fl was one of these gems that he had "marked for his
own," But, untfl after he had assumed the duties of the
consulship at Birmingham, he had not been able to make

better by far to have leamed thus, with hard hands and swarthy brow,
over the labors of his forge and hammer, than to have studied in
easy universities, to have worn lawn and ermine, yet have garnered
no expansive benevolence while he became a prodigy of learning."

HIS NEW BRITAIN HOME.

453

the necessaty payments, and at times he felt quite de
spondent at the thought that he might lose the "jewel'
before he could fairly call it his own. But the good
Father opened up the way for the attainment of the object
so near to his heart, and when called from earth he held
in fee-simple* the acres for many years known, and, it is
hoped, for ever hereafter to be known, as "Burritt Hill,'
—from which the prospect is one of rare beauty and great
extent. Of Mn Burritt's good works and labors of love, during
the last years of his life, mention has been previousty
made and it may be said of him that when he died,
all who knew him felt that a great and good man had been
taken from earth.
His New Britain home, with a beloved sister and her
two daughters, was to him delightfully pleasant. These
dear ones were ever seeking to contribute to his comfort
and happiness, and he was alike watchful that he might
by word or deed, make some return for the kindness
which did so much to make his last years so pleasant.
Though declining health had caused his friends to feel
¦ that his hold on hfe was precarious, and daily becoming
more so, yet when death came and took away the fnend
and counseflor from that home, the surviving members

* In a letter from Birmingham to his friend Levi S. Wells, Esq., of
New Britain, who had kindly acted as his agent in making the last
payment due for the land, he wrote, " I have made a long struggle to
own this property, free from incumbrance, and to feel that a few
acres in my own dear native to^vn were really and truly and wholly
my own, I am greatly delighted that the long negotiation is now
brought to a close, and that my hopes of many years are realized.
... I dream, two or three nights in the week, of my little farm on
the hill, and of the old yoke of oxen I used to work on the stony
slopes, and fancy I am again holding the plow and enjoying the rich
landscape."

454

ELIHU BURRITT.

felt that a dark shadow had fallen across their pathway,
which henceforth they must walk without his cheering
words and affectionate deeds.
While the likeness at the opening of this volume is, in
most respects, remarkably correct almost faultiess,)t does
not represent Mr. Burritt in his happiest mood. Though
always cheerful and hopeful, he at times wore the expres
sion of " a man of sorrows," — but his sorrows were for
the evils that he saw in the world, and his countenance
was at times made to assume a sad look by his study to
remove, or alleviate, those evils. As a conversationalist
he possessed rare powers, and when the subject was one
of special interest to him it was a rich treat to be a par
ticipant or listener. When any one communicated to
him the intelligence of some evfl suppressed, or of some
good act performed, his countenance would "light up"
and beam with delight as he would say, " Come, now,
that is capital; do tell me afl about if' If at such a
time his likeness could have been taken it would have
had an expression of unusual brightness and benignity, —
fairly beaming with good will and kind wishes.
During the last few months of his life he seldom left
the house, though he was able to sit up and walk his rooni
until the day of his death, — to which he had looked for
ward with a true spirit of patient resignation. He felt
that He who had been his guardian and guide through
life, would not forsake him as he passed through the dark
valley. About a week before his death he invited a
literaty club, of. which he had been an active and inter
ested member, to call on him at his room. He was
very feeble and could say but a few words, and those
were expressive of his deep interest in the objects of the
club and a strong desire for its continued existence. The
interview was vety brief and affecting, and, as the mem-

MR. BURRITTS FUNERAL OBSEQUIES.

455

bers rose to leave the room, he took each by the hand
saying, " I hardly know whether to say 'good evening' or
' good bye,' — but may God bless you ! " and as they left
the room all felt sorrowful at the thought that they should
never again behold his face in life nor hear the voice
which had so often charmed them.

MR. BURRITT'S DEATH,"
AND FUNERAL OBSEQUIES.
Mr. Burritt died on the night of March 6, 1879, and
his funeral obsequies took place on the loth, at the
Center Church, in which for many years he had been a
devout worshiper.. Though a Congregationalist by pro
fession, he was a man of large Christian charity, and
could readily fellowship with any body of devour and sin
cere followers of Christ whose aim it was to elevate and
save man. In compliance with his expressed wishes,
made known to a friend a few days before his death, all
unusual display was avoided, and there were no church
decorations for the occasion. He had, the year before
his decease, instructed a class of young ladies in Sanskrit
and the members of this class placed upon the casket a
beautiful floral pfllow with. an inscription in Sanskrit*
His Sabbath-school class brought for the same purpose a
floral anchor of great beauty, while family friends placed
upon the casket a plain shaft surmounted by a beautiful
white dove, with wings spread and an olive leaf in its
mouth, as though about to fly with an important message.
This was surrounded by full ears of ripened wheat.
Long before the time for the exercises to commence,
* Gone before.

4S6

ELIHU BURRITT.

the house, with the exception of reserved seats,, was filled
with those who wished to pay the last tribute of respect
to one whom they had so highly esteemed while living.
The sidewalks near the church were also crowded by
those who could not gain entrance to the church, but who
wished to see the sad procession as it moved to and from
the same. Promptly at the time designated the casket
containing afl that was mortal of Elihu Burritt was borne*
up the aisle and deposited in front of the pulpit. It was
preceded by all the Protestant clergymen of the city.
Rev. Dr. Richardson of the Center Church and Rev. Mr.
Snowden of the Episcopal church led the way, — the latter,
clad in his sacerdotal robes, repeating the solemn words
of the Episcopal service used on such occasions. The
Rev. Messrs. 'Cooper of the South Church, Miner of the
Baptist, and Main of the Methodist followed,— each of
whom took some part in the opening services, after which
Dr. Richardson, Mn Burrift's pastor, said he would so
far deviate from the usual custom on such occasions as to
call upon two or three laymen, intimate friends of the
deceased, to make brief addresses,— and from the well
known interest manflested by the deceased in lay-work,
he felt that no apology was needed for this course. It
was, he thought, the right thing to be done, and in full
harmony wflh the views of the family friends and those
of the good man whose memoty will be so precious to all
who knew him. The following persons responded in the
order given :
Charles Northend, Superintendent of Schools.
My friends, we have assembled on the present occasion
to pay funeral honors to no ordinaty man. The name of
*The pall-bearers were T, W. Stanley, J. N, Bartlett, J., O. Smith,
L. S. Wells, I. N. Carleton, V. B. Chamberlain, Chas. Peck, and
Chas, Northend.

MR. NORTHENd's remarks.

457

i

IK

Elihu Burritt has been to us a sort of household name.
He dwelt among us ; he was our friend and neighbor ;
our co-worker in evety worthy cause. We all thought of
him with just pride as a citizen of our town. But in a
larger sense, Mr. Burritt was a citizen of the world, and
his thoughts and interests, his deeds and sympathies were
circumscribed by no town or State boundaries. He was
the friend of evety human being, with a heart " brimfull "
of kindness and benevolence for all mankind. In the
traest sense our friend was a large hearted philanthropist,
a sincere lover of his fellow-men. With talents, acquire
ments, and application that would have given him prom
inence and success in any department, he early resolved
to consecrate his powers to the development and diffusion
of principles and ideas whose influence would be for the
highest and most permanent good and happiness of the
human race.
At the early age of thirty-six years he sailed for Europe,
where he labored for successive years as the champion of
peace and good will. He became a power for good
wherever he went, and men of the highest note and of
royal influence were ready to bid him God-speed, and to
co-operate with him in his noble and eamest efforts to
arouse the public mind and reach the public heart, in
behalf of the great moral and humanitarian views which
he so zealously advanced and so eloquently advocated.
Of these great ''labors of love " it is not my purpose to
speak in detailat this time, but rather to limit the few
remarks I have to make to the closing years of his event
ful and laborious life.
It was in 1870, after an absence of seven years, tiiat
Mr. Burritt left Europe for the last time and came to
spend th,e sunset days of life among kindred and friends.
39

458

ELIHU BURRITT.

He had come, as it were, almost a victor from the great
battlefield on which he had fought for the cause of peace
and human progress. He had come to reside wflh us
and to give the devotion of his great heart, with all his
influence, for the advancement of evety good cause. But
I shafl, at the present time, linifl my remarks to a sin
gle particulan On reaching his home Mr, Burrflt was
greatly pleased to find his name clearly cut on the front
of our largest and most comely school edifice, and fl soon
became a pleasant privilege with him to spend much of
his time in visiting the schools of our town, listening to
the various exercises, and uttering words of cheer, en
couragement, and counsel, to both teachers and pupils.
He was ever a welcome visitor, and his benignant coun
tenance and kind words will long be remembered, and, we
doubt not, produce precious influences in years to come.
More than once did he visit each of our two-score schools,
some of them many times, always with increasing interest
and satisfaction, and in no subject did he feel a deeper
interest than in efforts made for the moral and intellectual
culture of our youth. He continued these visits until
increasing iflness confined him to the house and compelled
him to abandon all work and effort.
And now, my friends, let us see him as the world re
cedes from his view, and, giving up all expectation of
regaining health, he sits down to a-wait the approaching
steps of the " King of Terrors," already, as it were, heard
in the near distance. Though to hira life was sweet and
he had much to live for, he knew in whom he trusted, and
spoke calmly and hopefully concerning the great change
awaiting him. To a friend he said, " I have had a busy
and a happy life, but I have finished my day's work, and
I am now only waiting for that sleep that comes, sooner
or later to all." He had, a year previously, in riding with

MR. NORTHEND S REMARKS.

459

the same friend through our cemetety, designated a cer
tain location in which he wished to be buried. A few
days before his death he called this friend to a seat at his
side, that he might say a few words. Said he, " Do you
remember the spot -in the cemetety to which I once called
your attention?" On receiving an affirmative answer he
added, " I wish you and Mr. S. to take early measures to
secure that spot for the last resting place of my poor
body. And," he added, "you know my views in relation
to funerals, and the extravagance and display too often
exhibited, and I charge you, so far as possible, to see that
my funeral services are free from unnecessaty expense
and all ostentation. Let my coffin be as plain and inex
pensive as is consistent with propriety. Have everything
done for the accoraraodation of the friends who may
attend my funeral, but avoid all appearance of costly
show." And, my friends, it is in obedience to this last
request of our departed friend and his well-known views,
that loving hearts and wflling hands have not done much
to add to outward manifestations on this occasion.
A few days after the conversation alluded to he sat, in
his chair, as had been his custom, seemingly more com
fortable than usual, until the shades of evening had
gathered around. Leaning on his faithful attendant he
walked to his bed in an adjoining room and retired, and
soon slept that sleep from which none ever wake. To
his beloved niece, who was sitting by his bedside, he
seeraed to breathe with unwonted freedom, and while
previously, more than once, his diflScult respiration had
awakened the fear that he might be dying while he'slepf,
his life at last went out so peacefully that his friends
" thought him sleeping when he died."^ Like the flicker
ing flame of a consumed candle, which sometimes bright
ens just before it darkens, so the life lamp of our friend

-f

460

ELIHU BURRITT.

seemed to give a brighter and softer light just before it
went out in darkness to us, but as we humbly hope and
trust in a halo of unending brightness and* glory for him,
the Sun of Righteousness by its exceeding brightness
rendering the lesser lamp of life invisible. In early life
Mr. Burrflt -went forth bearing the precious seeds of peace
and good will to all mankind, and the harvest has been
ripening ever since, and in- all coming time will the worid
reap the precious fruits of his sowing.
And now, my dear friends, in imflation of the noble
example of our now sainted friend, let ' us, as life's de
scending sun nears fls western horizon, seek to scatter
broadcast the seeds of peace and of kindness, of broth
erly love and Christian sympathy, of good will and good
deeds, that so we may impress on hearts we leave behind,
and on the community in which" we dwell, those hal
lowed influences that will prove a rich blessing to the
world, and redound to the glory of our Heavenly Father.
V. B. Chamberlain, yudge of the City Court.
Being asked, I could not refuse to say something at this
time, although in this place and in this presence my voice
sounds strangely in my own ears.
It is true, my friends, that we are here to-day to bury
Elihu Burritt but it is fitting that we should also praise
him. He was himself a man so full of kindly feeling that
he must indeed praise others when he saw in them that
worthy of praise.
Here he was born, and here he started in life as a
mechanic, in physical harmony with the specific character
of the little hamlet of that day. But he worked not long
at the forge before there was a new and different purpose
within him, and like a spark from his own anvil he went
forth gleaming with the light of his new-born desire. He .

JUDGE .chamberlain's REMARKS.

461

i.

became by the force of industty and perseverance a
scholar and publicist, and by reason of the kindly nature
which God gave him he became a philanthropist of worid-
wide celebrity. He worked faithfully and earnestly,
hoping for fruit from his labors while living, but never
seriously cast down fl his hopes failed, for he had faith in
the future. He had a profound belief in the brotherhood
of man, but believed also that this brotherhood could be
perfected only in the union of all the brethren through
the Elder Brother, Christ. The last years of his life were
spent here at home. He found, on returning from abroad,
that many of the companions of his youth had gone on
before him ; that the town, however, still had fls primitive
manufacturing character, although the business had much
increased. Mr. Burritt saw that there was no danger of the manu
facturing interests failing for want of attention, industry,
and skill ; and he therefore devoted himself, with all the
enthusiasm of his hopeful and helpful nature, to deeds of
Christian love, to stimulating a desire for better schools
and improved methods of agriculture, so that the founda
tions of our republican institutions should be firra and
lasting as the granite of our hills.
Well, let us be thankful, friends, that there is no occa
sion for sorrow when a good raan, advanced in years, dies.
With him it is well, and the good deeds of such men live
after them and are not buried with their bones. And so
it happens that to-day we have to bury a friend and neigh
bor beloved, whom the world has honored for his talents
and great-heartedness.- We shall lay his body under the
evergreens in that cherished spot where this, and genera
tions yet to come, shall often take their way, and shall as
often, let us hope, thank God that Elfliu Burritt still lives
39*

«4b

462

elihu BURRITT.

and

in the hearts and in the increasing moral, intellectual,
material prosperity of all the people.
Mr. j. N. Bartlett, Chairman of Board of Education.
Whfle our brother's benevolence embraced the worid,
and clung to the far-reaching principles of liberty and the
Universal Brotherhood of man, his tenderest thoughts
were given to his native town. The place that gave to
his childhood a home, and to the years of his failino-
strength shelter and repose, was ever dear to him. He
loved the eariy histoty of New Britain, and Was proud of
fls prosperity and growth. He was constantly devising
plans for its welfare. As a member of the Board of Ed
ucation he was eflJcient full of sympathy for teachers,
and if there were scholars friendless on account of pov
erty or misfortune, they were sure to find a place in his
warm, generous heart
He highly prized the approbation of his native town.
I heard him allude to a reception given him on one of his
returns from Europe, with emotions of undisguised grati
tude. Sweeter to him, coming home from one of his
mighty efforts for the peace of nations, were the greetings
of his townsmen, than were the acclamations of France
to Napoleon after his victories in war. I cannot in the
brief moraent allotted rae, enumerate the evidences of
his love for the place he called his home, but wifl allude
to one, which in my estimation presents the choicest work
of his life. When the precious revival of religion, which
a few years since brought salvation to so many here, first
burst upon us, it was evident not only that the harvest
time had come, but that seed time had been improved,
and those who were in the habit of attending the " rais
sion prayer meetings " which Mr. Burritt had established
at various points in the outskirts of the town, encircling

MR. bartlett's remarks.

463

it with revival influences, knew that he had been the most
efficient in sowing the seed. These prayer meetings were
at " Burrflt Chapel," which he buflt for this purpose at
his own expense, at the "Ledge school house," at "Ship-
man school house,'' at " District No. 4," at " Burritt Hfll,"
where he furnished the building, and at "Osgbod Hfll."
The work of establishing and sustaining these prayer
meetings was one of the last works of Mr. Burritt's emi
nently useful flfe. To it he gave his deepest thought, his
means, and much of his time. His heart clung to it lovingly
till the last. It is not many weeks since he, though vety
feeble, and well aware that there was but a step between
him and the grave, attended a meeting at his chapel on
Cherry street. In my last interview with him, only a
short time ago, we conversed upon some of the great
labors of his life, which have won for him enduring hon
ors and an immortal name, and he was unmoved ; but
when I spoke of the mission prayer meetings, his pale
face lighted up as if a beam from heaven fell upon him,
and among the precious things he said were these, to me,
memorable words : " That school house on Osgood Hill
has been to me a half-way house to heaven."
Rest, gentle brother, rest. On the bosom of mother
earth, near the spot where you were born, we lay you
down to sleep, rejoicing in the blessed hope that we
shall meet you by and by in the land of peace.
Rev. Dr. Richardson, Mr. Burritfs Pastor.
The honors which we unite in bestowing upon our dis
tinguished fellow citizen and friend to-day it seems to me
are eminently fitting. First, they have the fitness of jus
tice. These honors are deserved. They are such as it
behooves us to offer; for Mr. Burritt has honored us,
being, as he vKis, our townsman, and he has also been, and

464

Jt

ELIHU BURRITT.

m many ways, as the words of his old friends and our
fellow citizens plainly indicate, our constant benefactor
It IS but in justice to him, therefore, and in justice to
ourselves, and I will add, fl is but justice to the chfldren
and youth of our city that we meet in this assemblage to
.call to mind the noble deeds which distinguished his Ufa
and to speak our praises of him. It is written, "honor
to whom honor is due." This is not a prohibition simply,
but a commandment and it is a commandment in the
keeping of which there is reward. When honors are
bestowed upon the ill-deserving it is to the effect of rec
ommending vicious practices ; when they are withheld
from the deserving the effect is not otherwise.
There is, second, in the honors which we are bestow
ing upon our friend, the fitness of truth. We all believe
what we are saying of him. Our praises are sincere.
The tender interest with which people of all classes and
conditions have been wont for so long a time, to make
their many inquiries for Mr. Burritt, and the deep and
tearful solemnity which characterizes this vast assemblage,
as it deserves to be, is real.
Third, there is erainent fitness in the unanimity with
which the people of New Britain are finding expression
for their great sorrow. Here upon the platform are all
the pastors of our city, and they are here, as regards the
service of the occasion, on equal terms ; no one of us is
foremost ; we are united in thought and sentiment ; as in
place and employment, and are yet sensible of no con
straint. In witnessing to the distinguished worth of Mr.
Burritt Ais distinguished catholicity of spirit his capability
for discovering the truth and loving it wherever found,
and by whomsoever advocated, or in whatever form set
forth, is fl not more than fitting that the ministrations of
the many, which go to constitute the greaffone church, as
here to-day, should testify together ?

DR. RICHARDSON S REMARKS.

465

k

There is still another fitness which characterizes this
occasion which I cannot forbear mentioning — it is that of
place. This • is the historic church of our city, and our
being here to-day serves to connect us in thought with
what our fathers accomplished. We claim for Mr. Bur
ritt that, as to many of the more prominent and comely
features which distinguish the Christianity of our age, he ^
was a representative man of the catholicity of its spirit
of its tendency to practical and useful results, of the
reach as well as broadness of its benevolence. Never, as
now for instance, has the church been competent unto a
sympathy with Christ for saying " Our Father which art
in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom conie, thy
will be done, in earth as it is in heaven." Mr. Burritt
was, in other words, not only a philanthropist but a Christ
ian philanthropist.
First in the order of his thinking and living came faith
in Jesus, the Christ, the cracified, but the arisen and now
living Saviour, and after that or rather, out of that his
lifelong labors for the promotion of peace and good will,
for the prevention of war and cruelty, for the most perfect
system of education, for the diffusion of a pure and genial
Christianity, not as a creed or doctrine simply, but as a
benefaction and an example. But here the thought is
suggested, whence the possibility of such a form or devel
opment of the Christian system as the life of Mn Burritt
presents to us ? The place where we are assembled sug
gests, and to dwell upon the fact may prove instructive.
The catholicity, the practical spirit the diversified and
far-reaching charities which are the honor of an age,
which gave distinguishment to Elihu Burritt and in view
of which it is that we and his generation so love and
honor him, these are but the legflflnate and irrepressible
outcome of the Christianity that preceded ours. It has

466

ELIHU BURRITT.

pleased God that all things which have life should have
also the principle of growth. Growth proceeds not by
successive displacements but by continuous self enlarge
ment and unfolding. Such has been the law of growth
which has characterized the religion of Jesus. First the
blade, then, and out of that, the ear, and after that the
full corn in the ear. First we might say, faith in Christ,
ideep convictions of divine truth and doctrine, sense of
personal accountability to God, the realization of the
unseen, tiien kindliness • of manner, loveliness, business,
honor, catholicity, charity, "visiting of the widows in
then afHiction." Now, then, as the last could not have
come about except it had been for the first so such a
type of Christianity as that which Mr. Burritt's career so
beautifully fllustrates could never have been but for the
earlier type which is illustrated in the career of our
fathers. They expended much and deep thought on ab
stract doctrine. They were given not to the observing of
those beliefs which were common to all Christians, but of
those in respect to which Christians differed, and they
with great accuracy sought to define then differences.
And they made much of them — yes, too much. Never
theless, by reason of ardent, and holy affection for all
trath it was that they thought so deeply and so discrimin-
ately, and by reason of thinking so discriminately they
brought it about that we, their children, are enabled the
more understandingly to combine and proportion our
beliefs, and are enabled unto this, to wit: The doc
trines, many of them, which, but for the habits which con- '
trolled the thinking of our fathers, had still, as to them.
seemed self contradictoty, we perceive to be each but
complementary of the other, each but a half of a one
greater whole, and each but for the other, in combination,
a distortion and a monstrosity. So we are grateful to the

\

%

DR. RICHARDSON S REMARKS.

467

fathers. So meeting here in this, the ancient mother
church of our city, and in the remembrance of the phil
anthropic deeds which filled the life of our illustrious
townsman, as beautiful, as fragrant as these flowers, but
more abiding, we feel that we do but honor him when we
honor the fathers, and that we the more honor the fathers
by how much the more we honor him.
And now, fellow citizens, townsmen, neighbors, let us
proceed to the doing unto him of a still greater honor.
Let us cherish hira in our remembrance. Let us imitate
his example. Let us love one another. Let us love our
town. Let us love the people who are in it, its chfldren
and youth, and with a practical and intelligent love. Let
us do all that we can to sustain and perfect all of the
institutions of our town, those of education, those of
religion. Let us be generous and magnanimous in all
our devotion to this, esteeming that all our interests are
one. Let us rise superior to all class feeling. Let us, of
all things, cultivate a Christianity which is in sympathy
with our free institutions. Let us be Christians who can
recognize the manhood that there is in man, even as
Christ the Lord did, even unto the earning of the reputa
tion which the Master earned, "who carae not to be minis
tered unto but to minister," and of whom it was said " this
man receiveth sinners and eateth with them." The circles
of our charities -widening ever outward, yet not dimin
ished aught in volume, let our love be world embracing.
Such is the lesson frora Elihu Burritt's life. And such
the comfort that as a Christian pastor I would bring his
friends to-day. Indeed, how dependent the impression
which we gain from any thing or thought upon the sur
roundings from amid which we view it. Those words of
Paul are indeed solemn, yes, at times awful, but here

iL

468

ELIHU BURRITT.

to-day, remembered by the form of Elihu Burritt,, the
patriot, the phflanthropist, the Christian, they are an un
mingled consolation :" God is not mocked. Whatsoever
a man soweth, that shaU he also reap. He that soweth
to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption, but he that
soweth to the spirit shall of the spirit reap life ever
lasting." At the close of the exercises the large congregation
passed in front of the pulpit and took a last, sad look at
the face of him they had loved so well. A large number
joined the procession which followed the honored dead
to the cemetery where, in a spot selected by himself, — a
spot peculiarly dear to him as overlooking the scene of
his chfldhood years, — all that was mortal of Elihu Bur
ritt was left to rest till time shall be no more.

i

TESTIMONIALS.

At the annual meeting of the General Conference of
Congregational churches of Connecticut held in the city
of Waterbuty, in Nov., 1879, F. L. Hungerford, Esq., of
New Brflain, was invited to give an address on the exam
ple of Elihu Burritt as fliustrating the service of our
Saviour. From this we make the following extract :
" Mr. Burritt took a lively interest in the welfare of his
native town, and did much to foster Ifleraty tastes in the
circles of his acquaintance, especially among the young,
and by his genial presence in those circles won the love
and admiration of all hearts. Modest and unassuming
himself, he was especially considerate towards others, and
encouraged every good effort and good work.
" Whatever may be said of him as a lecturer or -writer,
all will agree that his familiar talks were deeply interest- -
ing and instructive. I count it a precious privilege of my
Ifle to have frequentiy sat at his feet in the social circle
as he unfolded the subject of his thoughts or laid before
his friends some plan for the improvement of his fellow-
men. "Mr. Burritt was a believer in the traths of our reli
gion, and responded in early life to the invitations of the
gospel. While at his home in New Brflain he attended
public worship at the Center church, of which he was for
many years a member. He was interested not only in
the churches in New Britain, but also in those in the sur
rounding towns, and did much to bring these churches
into closer relation and fellowship. To this end he en
couraged visitation at their special meetings, and frequentiy
at his request, and often at his personal expense, the New
Britain brethren visited other churches, sometimes at con
siderable distance, and carried to them their greetings.
These visits were planned by Mr. Burritt, but he was not
always known as the originator of thera.
" The same barn in which, during the anti-slavetycrisis,
he wrote many of his editorials, he now fitted up wflh his
40 (469)

470

ELIHU BURRITT.

own hands for a convenient place for holding a mission
school, and services have been held there upon the Sabbath
for many years. In another part of the town he buflt a
chapel where union services are now held, and long after
he was unable to attend public worship in the church of
his choice, he would be carried to this chapel to attend
the afternoon meeting conducted by the brethren.
"In such occupations were spent the declining years of
a hfe which, though beset with many difl!iculties, was
constant in its purpose and full of activity and of good
things. Meantime a slow but fatal disease was assailing
the mortal citadel, and with great patience, and sustained
by a lively hope, the Christian phflanthropist awaited the
coming of his Redeemer. . . .
"Who shafl tefl what such a life is worth or measure
its usefulness ? Amid all the self-seeking and struggle
for place in this nineteenth 'century, what shall we say of
him who, ignoring all these things, recognized in evety
man a brother, and put himself, not first but last ? I do
not now speak of Mr. Burritt as a great man in the sense
in which that term is frequently used, but to a degree
greater than any man I have ever known he lived a sweet
pure, and unselfish life, and furnishes us with an example
as beautiful as it is rare.
" His life was like a quiet silver stream flowing through
the meadows, giving life and joy, and the memory of fl
will be cherished tenderiy by those who knew him best,
while those who know him only through his writings wfll
be inspired by that life to nobler living and greater love
for all mankind."

Of numerous newspaper and individual testimonials we
shall present but a few, though we might give hundreds
equally favorable and decided.
" It would be a shame to the American people if they
were to allow such a man to pass from araongst thera
with no specially honorable mention, or without some sort
of memorial which should preserve his memory to other
times. It ought to be true that a man can live for other
aims than that of personal promotion, and stfll hope for
reraembrance after he is dead.

PRESS NOTICES.

471

1

" The lessoh of Mr. Burritt's life is, that there are ele
ments of genius and character worthy of the highest val
uation, other than those which lift men into senatorial or
presidential chairs, or that class them with the million
aires of a nation. A man of gentie, genial nature ; an
enthusiast in all that became to him his mission ; delight
ing in the intellectual, the true, the philanthropic; willing
to be last and least fl only he can in some way make his
influence tell along the line of great workers; carrying
his burden with a cheerful courage, and shedding into all
human relations gracious influences, dropping there as the
dew from heaven, unseen, almost unfefl, yet refreshing
and life-giving ; such a man is not the least of the worid's
benefactors, and his exaraple appeals to us all, that we
seek to accoraplish our mission in the worid, m faithfully
doing each his own work, and not in jostling, crowding,
maligning, and hurting one 2.uother."— Chicago Standard.
" Mr. Burritt was a man of unblemished character, of
great simplicfly of raanner, of the purest motives, of
unbounded and unfailing charity, of true benevolence, of
the kindest feelings. He was everywhere a power for
good. For many years he was in advance of the times
in his interest and views in evety phflanthropic movement.
But he felt that he was on the side of God, and so labored
with an unfaltering belief in the righteousness of his
efforts." — Hartford Courant.
" Mr. Burrflt was universally recognized, not only as a
man of remarkable mental power, but as a sincere and
earnest worker for the good of his fellows. What some
regarded as his radical ideas of reform were so tempered
by a natural kindliness of disposition that prevented Jiis
exciting animosity in those with whom he differed." —
Philadelphia Lnquirer.
" Mr. Burritt's is another added to the names of those
men of nature, energy, and irrepressible aspirations, who
have pursued knowledge and attained fl under early diffi
culties. There is something in his story similar to that
of Hugh Miller ; both were bred to mechanical employ
ments, both gained literaty reputation, and both became
writers upon topics of controversy. The story of such
men, as told by themselves, is always interesting.

472

ELIHU BURRITT.

Mr. Burritt was accustomed to say that while the
machinery of the cotton factoty and that of the locomo
tive had no power to make him think less of his anvil
and of his daily labor by the forge, the sight of the press,
printing thoughts,' sent him home thoughtful and deter
mined upon the career which he subsequently and credit
ably followed. He has worked well and wiselv "—N Y
Tribune. ¦''
"It was vety fitting that Mr. Burritt should return to
the rural town,-from which in the full vigor of manhood
he had gone forth to make his influence felt in manv
nations,— fitting that he should go back, like the tired
child to Its mother, to lay down his life where, more than
sixty-eight years ago, he took fl up. . . . Though more
widely known as the 'Learned Blacksmith' than by anv'
other appellation, the titie of universal philanthropist
would better describe the whole man. The popular mmd
dwells upon him as poring over grammars and lexicons.
and deciphering strange words in hyeroglyphical characters!
But few, comparatively, think of him as leading the best
minds and largest-hearted people of the civflized coun
tries mto a congress of nations, to devise means to settle
national disputes, and so for ever end the barbarous prac
tice of international wars. Elihu Burritt's goodness won
him to the hearts of many people in many nations. It is
probably true of him, as has been said, that he had access
to more English homes than any other American."— 7%^
Inter- Ocean.
" Mr. Burritt,' as the great apostle of peace and uni
versal brotherhood, went from- continent to continent city
to city, and village to hamlet, advocating every good cause
with the most signal zeal, indomitable perseverance, and
convincing eloquence. He was a man of many schemes,
one of which was that of 'International Arbflration,'
which, Utopian as it was deeraed at the time, he lived
long enough to see partially adopted in the Alabama case.
' Ocean Penny Postage ' was another of his pet ideas.
This also he saw carried into execution, ' for, in the case
of the post card, the ocean tax is only a penny."  West
ern Times, Exeter, England.

PRESS NOTICES.

473-

"As editor, author, and advocate of evety notable re
form and philanthropy, Mr. Burritt gained, and kept to
his dying day, the esteem of the distinguished, both in
this country and Europe. The doors of men of letters,
art, and science were everywhere open to him. His aston
ishing fund of knowledge commanded their admiration,
and the purity of his heart, and the generosity of his senti
ments their veneration. He fifled the world's eye, as in
all respects, an extraordinaty man. Burritt was not
received among the great simply because he read so many
tongues of ancient and modern time, but because he had
learned to do so by manly tofl through evety hour he
could call his own, and had proved his claim to honor by
earning it." — Pittsburgh Telegraph.
" Mr. Burritt was^ one who labored hard in the field of
letters, and garnered a rich harvest for his tofl ; he also
worked for th'e good of mankind with an earnest single
ness of purpose. He was a man whose abnegation of
self was the most conspicuous feature of his work. To
be a common soldier in the array of progress is no small
honor, but Elihu Burritt was a mighty man, strong in pur
pose and indefatigable in work. Surely it is a noble mis
sion to strive to bring about ' Peace on Earth ! ' Such
work Mr. Burritt delighted in and his labor has not been
in vain." — Harborne {England) Paper.
" Probably no other man of his generation has done so
much for the cause of Peace as the late Elihu Burritt. By
his speeches, and by his writings, he reached millions of
people, and influenced them for peace. His labors for
this cause, both in Europe and this countty, were truly
wonderful. He was an extraordinaty help to the Peace
Society." — Advocate of Peace {London).
Mr. Burritt was a scholar, — an intense, earnest, devoted
student. He was a man of profound attainments, and
his marvelous knowledge was the result of labor as ex
haustive as it was prodigious. He was as modest as he
was learned, but those who knew hira intimately were
aware that what he claimed to know he knew with a thor
oughness that was complete and absolute. Nor did he
learn with special facflity. He worked, toiled, sacrificed

'I

40

;*

474

ELIHU BURRITT.

health, ease, and comfort to his insatiable desire for knowl
edge. And his knowledge was astonishing and profound,
and if he was not a scholar we have not had one in Amer
ica worthy the name. He was a really noble and great
philosopher and student a man who made his mark upon
his age and country, and whose rare attainments were
worthy of the highest respect and admimtion.— Cleveland
{Ohio) Herald.
W\th a heart full of sympathy with all who were labor
ing in any way for the elevation of the community in every
good cause, he will be greatly mourned and missed by all
classes. Though he had not quite reached his " three
score and ten," he has performed a mission for noble ob
jects which wifl cause his name to be enrolled amon°-
those of the worid's benefactors. His exaraple is a most
admirable instructor with reference to the capabilities of
the inteflect unaided by fortune or its accessories. — New
England Journal of Education.
No scholar can fail to think of the similarity between
Mr, Burritt and the late Hugh Miller,— the Connecticut
blacksmith taking to philology as naturally as the Cro
marty stone-mason took to the wisdom that is stratified in
the rocks. . . His greatest work has been in the kind
ling example which has stimulated many an indolent
scholar to do better justice to his possibilities.— .5^j-/(7«
Congregationalist. Mr. Burritt was one of the early advocates of cheap
ocean postage, and to the end of his life was indefatigable
in promoting various missionary and philanthropic
schemes. He will be remembered as a man of unwearied
industty and philanthropy, expended on useful objects, and
as a highly characteristic product of American institu
tions, — N Y. Herald.
E. W. Robbins, Esq , in Hartford Times, writes : " Mr.
Burritt, sprung from the ranks and, self-taught knowing
how to combine profound study with severe manual labor,
popularly esteemed as the 'Learned Blacksmith,' his
strong will, like the material in which he wrought, was
exhibited in the blacksmith energy, forged even to white
heat, with which he dominated every subject which came

li

INDIVIDUAL TESTIMONV.

475

under his examination. What he knew he knew thor
oughly, which is more than can be said of some profes
sional scholars."
Z, Eastman, Esq., now of Chicago, formerly U. S, Con
sul in Birmingham, England, thus writes of Mr. Burritt :
" To an uncommonly marked degree he was a man of
Providence. His passion for the acquisition of languages
might have made a book-worm of him ; but his enthusiasm
of humanity, deeply touched with the emotions of evan
gelical piety, caused his life to be captivated with the
spirit of the sincerest and wisest Christian philanthropy.
It was peculiarly to his credit that he early and clearly
discerned the times, and so, in advance of most others,
threw his sympathies and energies into the li\'ing issues of
the day. As he learned language after language, living
and dead, near and far, his burning sympathies kept more
than equal pace with his prodigious strides of knowledge,
and gave him a marvelously widened and quickened sense
of man's universal brotherhood."
Moses Pierce, Esq., of Nor\vich, Conn., thus testifies of
Mr. Burritt : "A personal friendship of forty years' stand
ing, in which I have every reason to believe I enjoyed Mr.
Burritt's fullest confidence, has given me a knowledge of
the man which has won my highest admiration. A nobler
hearted man, in the best sense of the word, I have never
known. He seemed never to think of his own interest in
anything he did, but to be always devising for the good
of others. Few men, within ray acquaintance, have left
the record of a good life more worthy to be made known
to the world."
The Rev. Elnathan Davis, of Auburn, Mass., for many
years an intimate friend of Mr. Burritt, writes : " His
interest in peace and every good cause was not evanescent.
To my knowledge it was as great near the close of his
life as it was a quarter of a century earlier. In the cause
of humanity he labored as one never ' weary in well doing.'
His whole correspondence with me was the outgrowth of
a most hearty love for man, — of a burning desire for his
uplifting, — and of a willingness to sacrifice himself to
this end! Having crossed the ocean several times to

476

ELIHU BURRITT.

weave the nations together in the bonds of brotherhood,
how grateful to find, to the very last his blue eye un
dimmed as it swept the horizon of the future, — searching
out the signs of progress for truth, for righteousness, for
peace on earth and good wfll to men."
Another friend of . Mr. Burritt, Freeman Walker, Esq.,
of North Brookfield, Mass., thus testifies: "No selfish
motive influenced him. His thoughts were upon what
soever things were true, honest, just, pure, lovely, and of
good report. How he could best serve his day and gen
eration and increase the sum of human happiness ab
sorbed the thought and energy of the man through life.
Henry Richard, M. P., who was intimately associated
with Mr. Burritt in his peace operations in Europe, thus
writes, under date of Dec. 3, 1879 : " In England Mr.
Burritt was everywhere received vety kindly and cordially.
Just before his arrival, in 1846, an article had appeared
in a periodical' edited by William and Maty Howett giving
a sketch of his life, and especially recording the marvel
ous progress he had made in the acquisition of languages
in the face of manifold difficulties and disadvantages.
People were, therefore, vety anxious to make acquaint
ance with the ' Learned Blacksmith,' as he was called.
Naturally, perhaps, he was not an orator. His style was
too elaborate and literaty. He wanted the spontaneity
and freedom of a ready "speaker, and his voice lacked
flexibflity and compass. But there was such philanthropic
fervor in his spirit and so much simplicity and earnest
ness in his manner, that he always carried his audiences
with him. . . . Mr. Burritt had led us to hope that we
might again see and' hear him in Europe, and I cannot
describe to you with what delight I looked forward to the
prospect of once more seeing the face of my dear old
friend, and hearing his voice in advocacy of those great
principles of peace and good will which lay so near his
great heart, and in the promotion of which he had ren
dered such valuable service. But alas ! it was not to be ;
yet we will rejoice that the inspiration of his teaching
and example is not lost. ' He being dead yet speaketh.'
" In a letter received him home dated Nov. 10, 1876, he
writes, — ' I had hoped to be with you at Geneva, but I '

INDIVIDUAL TESTIMONY.

477

had to give up the thought of meeting you after having
traveled two hundred miles towards Quebec to take the
steamer for England. After six weeks' rest and relaxa
tion I returned home in better health and spirits than
usual. I set to work on my Hebrew Hand-book and had
nearly completed it when, three weeks ago, I met with a
fearful experience. After writing until dinner I have been
in the habit of stripping off my coat and plying the ax,
pick, or spade, the rest of the day like any day laborer.
At the time of my attack I was cutting down a large tree
on my hill farm, for one of my mission chapels. I was
just on the point of quitting work when I was attacked
with a severe hemorrhage of the lungs. I was- nearly a
mile from home, and alone, and it continued for all my
walk, and within the next twenty-four hours I had two
other attacks, still more severe. I have just rallied enough
to sit up all day and to read and write a little. I feel that
if I ever regain my strength, my voice will have no more
power for public speaking But I hope, yet a little longer,
to do something with my pen for our glorious cause.'
Though I shall never again meet the dear friend and the
noble-hearted man on earth it is pleasant to know that his
last thoughts and strength were given to the 'glorious
cause ' to which his energies and talents had been given
in earlier years."

I

A

478

ELIHU BURRITT.

MR. burritt's PUBLICATIONS.

479

LANGUAGES,
Among the various languages which Mr, Burritt studied
with more or less care are the following : Amharic, Arabic
Basque, Bohemian, Breton-Celto, Chaldaic, Cornish, Dan
ish, Dutch, Ethiopic, Flemish, French, Gaelic, German,
Greek, Hebrew, Hindustani, Hungarian, Icelandic, Irish
Latin, Manx, Persian, Polish, Portuguese, Russian, Sa
maritan, Sanskrit Spanish, Swedish, Syriac, Turkish
Welsh. In 1872 the honoraty degree of A. M. was conferred
upon Mr. Burritt by Yale College. He was simflarly
honored by one or two other colleges.
BOOKS AND PERIODICALS PUBLISHED BY ELIHU
BURRITT.
The following, it is believed, is a correct list of the
books written by Mr. Burritt, with the date of their publi
cation. Most of these were published in England during
his residence there. " Ten Minute Talks" was published'
in this countty, and, being the property of the compfler, it
has been freely used in the preparation of this volume,
and its publication will no longer be continued. In addi
tion to these Mr. Burritt published several pamphlets,
mostly of local or temporary interest and his newspaper
articles were numerous and able.
Sparks from the Anvil, England, i2mo. 1847 and 1864
Miscellaneous Works, " i6mo. 1848
Year Book of Nations, " iScj
Thoughts and Things at Home and Abroad, Boston, i2mo, 1854
Walk from London to John O'Groat's, England. 8vo, 1864
Walk from London to Land's End and Back,
England, i2mo. 1861;
Walks in the Black Country, Etc, " izmo. 1866
Old Burchell's Pocket (for children), " i6mo. 1866
Lectures and Speeches, i2mo. 1866
The Mission of Great Sufferings, England. i2mo. 1867
Jacob and Joseph, " i6mo. 1867
Prayers and Meditations from the Psalms, New York. i6mo. 1869
Children of the Bible, 1873
Ten Minute Talks, Boston. i2mo. 1873
Sankskrit Hand-Book,* London. 410. 1874
Chips from Many Blocks, Toronto. lamo. 1878
* This is the first book in Sanskrit ever published in this country.

/

I f

t

Mr. Burritt has also left MSS., in readiness for publica
tion, of simplified grammars and reading exercises in Hin
dustani, Persian, I'urkish, Arabic, and Hebrew languages.
These ''' are put in such plain and easy forms of exposition
as will assist the beginner over the threshold of these lan
guages wflh less effort and delay than he would otherwise
be subjected to," He has also left a volume entitied Sub
ject-Readings from the Bible," bringing together what is
said on different subjects selected, such as Faith, Patience
Temperance, Peace, Industry, etc., etc. This book will
contain some 350 pages, and wfll probably be published
in course of a few months. A history of the Farmington
family of towns, in MS., was also left by Mr. Burntt It
is hoped this may be published.
PERIODICALS.
Literary Gemini (Monthly), English and French,
Worcester, Mass., f. — • • • ,, •
The Christian Citizen (Weekly), Worcester, Mass.,
Bonds of Brotherhood (Monthly), England,
North and South (Weekly), New Bntam, Ct
Fireside Words (Monthly), England,
Peace Advocate, England,
The "Christian Citizen" was commenced in 1844, and
was devoted to Peace, Freedom, Temperance,^ and every
good cause. It was conducted wflh much ability and ac
complished a good work. Though its subscribers were
not very numerous, they were to be found in every State
in the Union. In the raanageraent and editorship of this
paper he was assisted by Thomas Drew, now of Boston,
and the late Mr. J. B. Syme, formeriy of Edinburgh.
Though its publication was a favorite project of Mr. Bur
ritt's, fl proved in the end a pecuniary loss. It was a sad
day to Mr. Burritt when he felt compelled to abandon the
publication of the " Cflizen." He said it seemed to hun
like the death of a much loved friend.

1 841
1844-1851 1846-1868
185?
1868

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3 9002 00471 5778

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