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POETS;
PHILOSOPHERS andSTATESMEN
AMERICA. 1801-54

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PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS' OP I
POETS, PHILOSOPHERS AND
STATESMEN.
BEING 1,001 ANECDOTES OF
LIFE 11^ IsTEW EISTGLXIsTD,

THE GREAT AND ECCENTRIC CHAKACTEKS CBLBBKATBD IN HEK
HISTOKT FIFTY YEARS AGO.
ALSO GIVING NTJMSEOUB ANECDOTES OONCEENING THE .
PRIVATE LIFE AND SECRET HISTORY
OF MANY PERSONAGES
ILLUSTRIOUS IN AMERICAN PUBLIC LIFE
DURING THE FIRST HALP OF THE PRESENT CENTURY:
AND AN ACCOUNT OP MEN AND THINGS
I SAW IN EUROPE.

By S. G. GOODRICH, (Peter Parley.)

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.

NEW YORK:
THE ARUTSTDEL PRIKT.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856,
By S. G. GOODRICH,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
Sonthem District of New York.

PUBLISHER'S PREFACE TO THE PRESENT
EDITION.

The re-issne of Mr. Goodrich's famous Recollections
of a Lifetime, in cheap form, will fill a want long ex
perienced, if we are to judge by the high price that
second-hand copies of the first edition have always
commanded when offered for sale. Although the
present edition is issued in one volume instead of two,
as was the case with the first edition, no curtailment
has been made in the text excepting by the abridg
ment of certain details of Mr. Goodrich's personal
business experience which have no interest at this dis
tance of time. Of the innumerable references made
to celebrated persons whom the author had known, or
descriptions of important public matters that occurred
within his long experience, a comparison of the index
of the former with that of the present edition will
show that not one has been omitted. The index con
tains over one thousand references to different indi
viduals. Hardly a single name distinguished in the
history of this country during the first half of the
present century but will be found represented in these
pages. If we were to particularize, it would be nec
essary to extend our introduction far beyond the space
3

4 PREFACE.
allotted to a brief preface. Ifeither is the value of
these Jiecolleciions due alone to their reference to im
portant political personages and events, nor even to
their affording the most complete narrative of the rise
and progress of our literature to be found within the
pages of a single volume, and described by a man who
actively participated in its creation. These friendly
and familiar letters, dwelling upon many journeys
made under very diflerent circumstances, give a good
idea of the growth of New York and of New England,
and of the changing of the ancient usages and customs
that obtained throughout the country up to the com
mencement of the present century to the manners of
to-day.

PREFATORY NOTE.

The first Letter in the ensuing pages will
inform the reader as to the origin of these vol
umes, and the leading ideas of the author in
writing them. It is necessary to state, how
ever, that although the work was begun two
years since — as indicated by the date of the
first of these Letters, and while the author
was residing abroad — a considerable portion
of it has been written within the last year,
and since his return to America. This state-
meat is necessary, in order to explain several
passages which will be found scattered through
its pages.
New Yoke:, Sbptbmbee, 1856.

CONTENTS

LETTER I.
Introductory and explanatory  19
LETTER IL
Geography and chronology— The old brown house— Grandfathers
— Ridgefield — The meeting-house — Parson Mead — Keeler's
tavern — Lieutenant Smith — The cannon-ball  25
LETTER III.
The first remembered event — High Ridge — The spy-glass— Sea
and Mountain — The peel — The black patch in the road. . . 34
LETTER IV.
Education in New England — The burial-ground of the suicide —
West Lane — Old Chichester — ^The school-house — The flrst day
at school — Aunt Delight — Lewis Olmstead — ^A return after
twenty years — Peter Parley and Mother Goose.  40
LETTER v.-
The joyous nature of childhood — Drawbacks — The small-pox —
The pest-house — Our,house a hospital — Inoculation — The force
of early impressions.  51
LETTER VL
The inner life of towns — Physical aspect and character of Ridge
field — Effects of cultivation upon climate — ^Energetic character
of the first settlers of Ridgefield — Classes of the people as to
descent — Their occupations — Newspapers — Position of my
father's family — Management of the farm — Domestic economy,
etc  '  56
LETTER VII.
Domestic habits of the people — Meals — Servants and masters —
Dress — Amusements — Festivals— Marriages — Funerals— Danc
ing — Winter Sports — Up and down — My two grandmothers. 83
LETTER VIII.
Interest in mechanical devices — ^Agriculture — ^My parents design
7

8 CONTENTS.
me for a carpenter — The dawn of the age of invention — Fulton,
etc. — Perpetual motion— Whittling — Gentlemen — St. Paul,
King Alfred, Daniel Webster, etc. — Desire of improvement, a
New England characteristic — Hunting — The bow and arrow —
The fowUng-piece — Pigeons — Anecdote of Parson M  —
Audubon and Wilson — The passenger pigeon — Sporting ram
bles — The black snake and screech-owl — Pishing — Advantages
of country life and country training  90
LETTER IX.
Death of Washington — Jefferson and democracy — Ridgefield the
great thoroughfare between New York and Boston — Jerome
Bonaparte and his young wife — Oliver Wolcott, Governor Tread
well, and Deacon Olmstead — Inauguration of Jefferson — Jerry
Mead and Ensign Keeler — Democracy and federalism — Charter
of Charles II. — Elizur Gfoodrich, Deacon Bishop, and Presi
dent Jefferson — Abraham Bishop and " about enough democ
racy "  106
LETTER X.
How people traveled fifty years ago— Timothy Pickering— Man
ners along the road^Jefferson and shoe-strings — Mr. Priest
and Mr. Democrat — Baibers at Washington— James Madison
and the queue— Winter and sleighing — Comfortable meeting
houses—The stove party and the anti-stove party — The first
chaise buUt in Ridgefield  126
LETTER XI.
Up-town and Down-town— Bast End and West End— Master
Stebbins— A model schoolmaster— The school-house- Admin
istration of the school— Zeek Sanford— School-books— Arith
metic— History— Grammar— Anecdote of G. . . H  —Coun
try schools of New England in these days— Master Stebbins's
scholars  jgo
LETTER XII.
Horsemanship— Bige Benedict— A dead shot— A race— Academi
cal honors— Charles Chatterbox— My father's school- My ex
ercises in Latin— Tityre tu patulie, etc.— Rambles— Literary
aspirations — My mother — Family worship — Standing and
kneeling at prayer— Anecdotes— Our Philistine temple. . . 147

CONTENTS. a
LETTER xm.
My father's library — Children's books — The New England Primer
and Westminster Catechism— Toy books— Nursery books —
Moral effect of these — Hannah More's Moral Repository — The
Shepherd of Salisbury Plain — Visit to Barley-wood — ^First idea
of the Parley books — Impressions of big books and little
books  164
LETTER XIV.
The clergymen of Fairfield county — Their character and manners
— ^Anecdote of the laughing D.D. — The coming storm. . . . 175
LETTER XV.
Ideas of the Pilgrim Fathers— Progress of toleration — ^Episcopacy
— Bishop Seabury — Dr. Duche — ^Methodism in America — In
Connecticut — Anecdotes — Lorenzo Dow — The wolf in my fa
ther's fold  186
LETTER XVL
The three deacons  318
LETTER XVII.
The federalist and the democrat— Colonel Bradley and General
King — Comparison of New England with European villages. 229
LETTER XVm.
The IngersoUs — Rev. Jonathan Ingersoll — Lieutenant-governor
IngersoU — ^New Haven beUes — A Chivalrous Virginian among
the Connecticut D.D.'s — Grace IngersoU — A New Haven girl
at Napoleon's Court — Real romance — A Puritan in a con
vent  :  248
LETTER XIX.
Mat Olmstead, the town wit— The Salamander hat— The great
eclipse — Sharp logic — Lieutenant Smith, the town philosopher
—The purchase of Louisiana— Lewis and Clarke's exploring
expedition— The great meteor— Hamilton and Burr—The Leo
pard and the Chesapeake — Fulton's steamboats — Granther
Baldwin  205
LETTER XX.
A long farewell to Ridgefield  293

10 CONTENTS.
LETTER XXI.
Farewell to Ridgefield— Farewell to home— Danbury— My new
• vocation — A revolutionary patriarch — Life in a country store
— Homesickness — ^My brother-in-law — Lawyer Hatch  295
LETTER XXII.
Visit to New Haven — The city — Yale CoUege — My uncle's house
— John AUen — First saU on the sea — The Court-house — Dr.
Dwight — Professor Silliman— Chemistry, mineralogy, geology
— Anecdote of Colonel Gibbs — ^EU Whitney — ^The cotton-gin —
The gun-factory  810
LETTER XXIII.
Durham — History of Connecticut — Distinguished famiUes of
Durham — The Chaunceys, Wadsworths, Lymans, Austins —
Woodbury — How romance becomes history — Rev. Noah Bene
dict—Judge Smith  340
LETTER XXIV.
The cold winter and a sharp ride — Description of Danbury — The
hat manufactory — The Sandimanians — Gten. Wooster's monu
ment — Death of my brother-in-law — Master White — Mathe
matics  365
LETTER XXV.
FareweU to Danbury — Hartford — My first master and his famUy
— Merino sheep — A wind-up — Another change — My new em
ployer — A new era in Ufe-j^George Sheldon  375
LETTER XXVI.
My situation under my new master — Discontent — Humiliating
discoveries — Desire to quit trade and go to coUege — Undertake
to re-educate myself  887
LETTER XXVIL
Hartford forty years ago — The Hartford wits — Hartford at the
present time — The declaration of war in 1813 — Baltimore riots
i — Feeling in New England — Embargo — Non-intercourse, etc. —
Democratic doctrine that opposition is treason  391
LETTER XXVIII.
Specks of war in the atmosphere — The first year — Operations on
land and water — The wickedness of the federalists — The second

CONTENTS. 1 1
year — The Connecticut mUitia— Decatur driven into the Thames
— Connecticut in trouble — I become a soldier — My flrst and
last campaign  407
LETTER XXIX.
Description of New London— Fort TrumbuU— Fort Griswold—
The British fleet — Decatur and his ships in the Thames — Com
modore Hardy — On guard — A suspicious customer — Alarm,
alarm ! — Influence of camp Ufe— Return to Hartford— Land-
warrants— Blue-Ughts— Decatur, Biddle, and Jones  423
LETTER XXX.
Continuation of the war — The Creeks subdued— Battles of Chip
pewa and Bridgewater— Capture of Washington — Bladensburg
races — Scarcity of money — Rag money — Bankruptcy of the
national treasury — The specie bank-note, or Mr. Sharp and Mr.
Sharper — Universal gloom — State of New England — Anxiety
of the Administration — Their instructions to the Peace Com
missioners — Battle of New Orleans — Peace — Illuminations and
rejoicings  444
LETTER XXXI.
The Hartford Convention — Its origin — Testimony of Noah Web
ster—Oath of Roger M. Sherman — Gathering of the Conven
tion — Doings of democracy thereupon — Physiognomy of the
Convention— Sketches of some of the members— Colonel Jessup
— Democracy in the streets — Report of the Convention — Re
ception of the doings of the Convention by Madison and his
party— Its effect and example — Comparison of the Hartford
Convention with the nulliflers— The Union forever  471
LETTER XXXII.
The Count Value — ^Lessons in French, and a translation of Rene
— Severe retribution for imprudence — The end of the pocket-
book factory — Napoleon returns to Paris and upsets my affairs
— Divers experiences and reflections upon dancing — ^Visit to
New York — Oliver Wolcott and Archibald Gracie— Ballston
and Saratoga — Dr. Payson and the three rowdies— IUness and
death of my uncle— Partnership with George Sheldon— His iU
ness and death  533
LETTER XXXIII.
The famine of 1816 and 1817— Panic in New England— Migra-

12 CONTENTS.
tions to Ohio— T'other side of Ohio— Toleration— DownfaU of
federalism— OUver Wolcott and the democracy— Connecticut
upset— The new Constitution— Gov. Smith and Gov. Wolcott
— Litchfield — Uriah Tracey — Frederick Wolcott— Tapping
Reeve- Col. Talmadge— James Gould— J. "W. Huntington—
The Litchfield centennial celebration  540
LETTER XXXIV.
Stephen R. Bradley— My pursuit of the vocation of bookseUer
and pubUsher— Scott's poems— General enthusiasm— Byron's
poems— Their reception— The Waverley novels— Their amazing
popularity— I published an edition of them— Literary club at
Hartford— J. M. Wainwright, Isaac Toucey, William L. Stone,
etc.- The Round Table— Original American works— State of
opinion as to American literature— PubUcation of Trumbull's
poems— Books for education— Rev. C. A. Goodrich— Dr. Com
stock — Woodbridge's Geography  557
LETTER XXXV.
Sketches of the "Hartford Wits"— Dr. Hopkins— Trumbull,
author of McFingal-r-David Humphries— Dr. Strong— Theo
dore Dwight— Thomas H. GaUaudet— Daniel Wadsworth— Dr.
CoggsweU — Mrs. Sigourney  573
LETTER XXXVL
Dr. Percival— His early life— His father's attempt to cure his
shyness — CoUege life— His early love— His medical experience
— His poetical career  587
LETTER XXXVII.
A few wayside notes — The poet Brainard — His first introduction
—Ripley's tavern — Aunt Lucy — The little back-parlor —
Brainard's ofiice — Anecdote — The devil's dun — The lines on
Niagara — Other poems  591
LETTER xxxvm.
My first voyage across the Atlantic — England — London — My tour
on the continent— Return to England — Visit to Barley-wood —
Hannah More — Inquiries as to books for education— Ireland
— Dublin — The Giant's Causeway — Scotland — Scenery of the
Lady of the Lake — Glasgow — ^Edinburgh  601

CONTENTS. 13
LETTER XXXIX.
Edinburgh— The Court of Sessions — Cranstoan, Cockburn, Mon-
crief— Lockhart— Jeffrey— Sir Walter Scott  610
LETTER XL.
Preparations for a ride — Mr. Jeffrey in a rough-and-tumble —
A glance at Edinburgh from Braid's HiU — A shower — The
maids of the mist — Durable impressions  617
LETTER XLI.
WilUam Blackwood— The Magazine— A dinner at Blackwood's —
James BaUantyne— Lord Byron and Lady CaroUne Lamb —
The General Assembly of Scotland — Dr. Chalmers  634
LETTER XLII.
A dinner at Lockhart's — Conversation about Byron — Mrs. Lock
hart — Irving — Professor Ticknor — Music — The pibroch and
Miss Edgeworth — Anecdotes of the Indians — Southey and sec
ond sight— Cooper's Pioneers — The Pilot — Paul Jones — Brock-
den Brown -Burns — Tricks of the press — Charles Scott — The
Welsh parson — The ItaUan base-viol player — Personal appear
ance of Sir Walter — Departure for London — Again in Edin
burgh in 1833 — Last moments of Sir Walter — The sympathy
of nature  635
LETTER XLIII.
Journey to London — Remarks on England, as it appears to the
American traveler — The climate — The landscape — Jealousies
between the EngUsh and Americans — Plan for securing
peace  650
LETTER XLIV.
London thirty years ago — Its great increase — George IV. — Ascot
races — The Duke of WeUington— Jacob Perkins and the steam-
gun — The Duke of Sussex — Duke of York — Hounslow Heath —
Parliament — Canning — Mackintosh — Brougham — Palmerston
— House of Lords — Lord Eidon — Rhio Rhio — Catalini — Sig-
norina Garcia — Edward Irving — Byron's cofln  663
LETTER XLV.
Return to America — Removal to Boston — Literary position of
Boston— Prominent literary characters — The press — The pulpit

14 CONTENTS.
— The bar — New York now the Uterary metropoUs — ^My pubU-
cation of various works — The Legendary— N. P. Willis — The
era of Annuals — The Token — The artists engaged in it — The
authors — Its termination  693
LETTER XLVI.
The contributors to the Token — N. P. WUlis — N. Hawthorne —
Miss Francis — Mr. Greenwood — Mr. Pierpont — Charles
Sprague — Mrs. Sigourney — Miss Sedgwick — Mrs. Osgood, and
others — Quarrels between authors and publishers — Anecdotes
— The publishers' festival  704
LETTER XLVII.
The first of the Parley books — Its reception- Various pubUca-
tions^Threatening attack of Ulness — Voyage to Europe — Con
sultation of physicians at Paris — Sir Benj. Brodie, of London
— Abercrombie, of Edinburgh — Return to America — Residence
in the country — Prosecution of my literary labors  719
LETTER XLVIII.
RepubUoation of Parley's Tales in London — Mr. Tegg's opera
tions — Imitated by other publishers  735
LETTER XLIX.
The Peter Parley Books  739
LETTER L.
Joumey to the South— Anecdotes— Reception at New Orleans. 730
LETTER LI.
Retrospection — Confessions — The mice among my papers — A
reckoning with the past  733
LETTER LII.
Speech at St. Albans— Lecture upon Ireland and the Irish- The
Broadstreet riot— Burning the Charlestown Convent— My po
litical career— A. H. Everett— The fifteen-gallon Jug— The
Harrison campaign of 1840— Hard cider and log cabins— Gen
eral bankmptcy— Election of Harrison— His death— Conse
quences- Anecdotes— The " Small-tail Movement "—A Model
candidate — William Cpp, or shingling a barn  739

CONTENTS. 15
LETTER LIIL
International copyright — Mr. Dickens's mission — His faUure. 755
.LETTER LIV.
Statistics of the book trade — Its extension — The relative increase
of American literature, as compared with British literature. 757
LETTER LV.
RecoUections of Washington — The House of Representatives —
Missouri compromise — Clay, Randolph, and Lowndes— The
Senate — Rufus King — William Pinkney — Mr. Macon — Judge
MarshaU — Election of John Quincy Adams — President Mon
roe — Meeting of Adams and Jackson — Jackson's Administra
tion — Clay — Calhoun — Webster — Anecdotes  771
LETTER LVI.
London and Paris compared — Paris thirty years ago — Louis
XVIII. — The Parisians — Garden of the TuUeries— Washington
Irving — Mr. Warden, the American Consul — Sooiete PhUoma.
tique — Baron Larrey — Geoffroy St. HUaire — The Institute —
Arago — Lamarck — Gay-Lussac — Cuvier — Lacroix — Laplace —
Laennec — Dupuytren — Talma — MademoiseUe Mars  811
LETTER LVII.
Death of Louis XVIIL— Charles X.— The "Three Glorious
Days " — Louis PhUippe — The revolution of February, 1848. 833
LETTER LVIII.
Events which immediately foUowed the revolution — Scenes in
the streets of Paris— Anxiety of strangers— Proceedings of the
Americans — Address to the Provisional Government- Reply
of M. Arago— Procession in the streets— Inauguration of the
republic— Funeral of the victims— Presentation of flags— Con
spiracy of the 15th of May— Insurrection of June— Adoption
of the constitution— Louis Napoleon President  845
LETTER LIX.
The duties of a consul— Pursuit of a missing family— Paying for
experience  °54

16 CONTENTS.
LETTER LX.
Character of the French republic — Its contrast with the Ameri
can republic — Aspect of the government in France — Louis
Napoleon's ambitious designs — He flatters the army — Spreads
rumors of sociaUst plots — Divisions in the National Assembly
— A levee at the Elysee — The Coup d'Etat — Character of this
act — Napoleon's government — Feelings of the people  861
LETTER LXI.
Meeting of Americans in Paris to commemorate the death of
Clay and Webster — Termination of my consular duties — Char
acter of the French nation — The "black-coat" circular. . 876
LETTER LXII.
Visit to Italy — ^Florence — Rome — Naples  893
LETTER LXIII.
Leave-taking — Improvement everywhere — In science — Geology,
chemistry, agriculture, manufactures, astronomy, navigation,
the domestic arts — Anthracite coal — Traveling — Painting —
Daguerreotypes — The Electric Telegraph — Moral progress — In
foreign countries : in the United States  903
INDEX  909

RECOLLECTIONS OF A LIFETIME.

RECOLLECTIONS OF A LIFETIME,
IN A SERIES OF
FAMILIAR LETTERS TO A FRIEND.

LETTER I.
Introductcyry a/nd M^lanator^/.
Mt dear G ******
A little thin sheet of paper, with a frail wafer
seal, and inscribed with various hieroglyphical sym
bols, among which I see the postmark of Albany,
has just been laid upon my table. I have opened it,
and find it to be a second letter from you. Think
of the pilgrimage of this innocent waif, unprotected
save by faith in man and the mail, setting out upon a
voyage from the banks of the Hudson, and coming
straight to me at Courbevoie, just without the walls
of Paris, a distance of three thousand miles !
And yet this miracle is wrought every day, every
hour. I am lingering here, partly because I have
taken a lease of a house and furnished it, and there
fore I can not well afford to leave it at present. I
am pursuing my literary labors, and such are the fa-
1*

20 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
cilities of intercourse, by means of these little red-
lipped messengers, like this I have just received
from you, that I can almost as well prosecute my
labors here as at home. Could I get rid of all those
associations which bind a man to his birth-land ;
could I appease that consciousness which whispers in
my ear, that the allegiance of every true man, free to
follow his choice, is due to his country and his kin
dred, I might perhaps continue here for the remain
der of my life.
My little pavilion, situated upon an elevated slope
formed of the upper bank of the Seine, gives me
a view of the unrivaled valley that winds between
Saint Cloud and Asnieres ; it shows me Paris in the
near distance — Montmartre to the left, and the Arch
of Triumph to the right. In the rear, close at hand,
is our suburban village, having the aspect of a little
withered city. Around are several chateaus, and from
the terraced roof of my house — which is arranged for
a promenade — I can look into their gardens and pleas
ure-grounds, sparkling with fountains and glowing
with fruits and flowers. A walk of a few rods brings
me to the bank of the Seine, where boatmen are ever
ready to give the pleasure-seeker a row or a sail ; in
ten minutes by rail, or an hour on foot, I can be in
Paris. In about the same time I may be sauntering
in the Avenue de Neuilly, the Bois de Boulogne, or
the galleries of Versailles. My rent is but about four
hundred dollars a year, with the freedom of the gar-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 21
dens and grounds of the chateau, of which my resi
dence is an appendage. It is the nature of this cli
mate to bring no excessive cold and no extreme heat.
You may sit upon the grass till midnight of a summer
evening, and fear no chills or fever; no troops of flies,
instinctively knowing your weak point, settle upon
your nose and disturb your morning nap or your
afternoon siesta ; no elvish mosquitoes invade the
sanctity of your sleep, and force you to listen to their
detestable serenade, and then make you pay for it, as
if you had ordered the entertainment. If there be a
place on earth combining economy and comfort —
where one may be quiet, and yet in the very midst of
life — it is here. Why, then, should I not remain ?
In one word, because I would rather be at home. This
is, indeed, a charming country, but it is not mine. I
could never reconcile myself to the idea of spending
my life in a foreign land.
I am therefore preparing to return to New York
the next summer, with the intention of making that
city my permanent residence. In the mean time, I
am not idle, for, as you know, the needs of my fam
ily require me to continue grinding at the mill. Be
sides one or two other trifling engagements, Lhave
ojctually determined upon carrying out your suggesticn,
that L should write a memoir of 'fwy life and times —
a panorama of my observations and experience. You
encourage me with the idea that an account of my
life, common-place as it has been, will find readers,

22 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
and at the same time, your recommendation naturally
suggests a form in which this may be given to the
public, divested of the air of egotism which gener
ally belongs to autobiography. I may write my his
tory in the form of letters to you, and thus tell a
familiar story in a familiar way — to an old friend.
I take due note of what you recommend — that I
should make my work essentially a personal narra
tive. You suggest that so long as the great study
of mankind is man, so long any life — supposing it to
be not positively vicious — if truly and frankly por
trayed, will prove amusing, perhaps instructive. I
admit the force of this, and it has its due influence
upon me; but still I shall not make my book, either
wholly or mainly, a personal memoir. I have no
grudges to gratify, no by-blows to give, no apologies
to make, no explanations to offer — at least none
which could reasonably find place in a work like
this. I have no ambition which could be subserved
by a publication of a merely personal nature : to con
fess the truth, I should rather feel a sense of humilia
tion at appearing thus in print, as it would inevitably
suggest the idea of pretense beyond performance.
What I propose is this : venturing to presume upon
your sympathy thus far, I invite you to go with me,
in imagination, over the principal scenes I have wit
nessed, while I endeavor to make you share in the im
pressions they produced upon my own mind. Thus
I shall carry you back to my early days, to my native

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 23
village, the " sweet Auburn" of my young fancy, and
present to you the homely country life in which I
was born and bred. Those pastoral scenes were epics
to my childhood ; and though the heroes and hero
ines consisted mainly of the deacons of my father's
church and the school-ma'ams that taught me to read
and write, I shall still hope to inspire you with a por
tion of the loving reverence with which I regard their
memories. I shall endeavor to interest you in some
of' the household customs of our New England coun
try life, fifty years ago, when the Adams delved and
the Eves span, and thought it no stain upon their
gentility. I shall let you into the intimacy of my
boyhood, and permit you to witness my failures as
well as my triumphs. In this the first stage of my
career, I shall rely upon your good nature, in per
mitting me to tell my story in my own way. If I
make these early.scenes and incidents the themes of
a little moralizing, I hope for your indulgence.
From this period, as the horizon of my experience
becomes somewhat enlarged, I may hope to interest
you in the topics that naturally come under review.
As you are well acquainted with the outline of my life,
I do not deem it necessary to forewarn you that my
history presents little that is out of the beaten track of
common experience. I have no marvels to tell, no
secrets to unfold, no riddles to solve. It is true
that in the course of a long and busy career, I have
seen a variety of men and things, and had my share

24 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
of vicissitudes in the shifting drama of life ; still the
interest of my story must depend less upon the im
portance of my revelations than the sympathy which
naturally belongs to a personal narrative. I am per
fectly aware that in regard to many of the events I
shall have occasion to describe, many of the scenes I
shall portray, many of the characters I shall bring
upon the stage, my connection was only that of a
spectator; nevertheless, I shall hope to impart to
them a certain life and reality by arranging them
continuously upon the thread of my remembrances.
This, then, is my preface ; as the wind and weather
of my humor shall favor, I intend to proceed and
send you letter by letter as I write. After a few spe
cimens, I shall ask your opinion ; if favorable, I shall
go on, if otherwise, I shall abandon the enterprise.
I am determined, if I publish the work, to make you
responsible for my success before the public.
S. Gr. GOODEICH.
OotJEBEVOlB, NEAR PaRIS, JiTNE, 1854.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 25

LETTER II.
Geography and Ohrorwlogy — The Old Brown House — Chandfathert—
Ridgefield — The Meeting-Rouse — Parson Mead — Keeler^ s Tiaiern — ii««-
tenoMt Smith — The Gannan-JialL
My dear 0 ***** *
It is said that geography and chronology are
the two eyes of history : hence, I suppose that in any
narrative which pretends to be in some degree histor
ical, the when and where, as well as the how. should
be distinctly presented. I am aware that a large part
of mankind are wholly deficient in the bump of lo
cality, and march through the world in utter indiffer
ence as to whether they, are going north or south,
east or west. With these, the sun may rise and set as
it pleases, at any point of the compass j but for my
self, I could never be happy, even in my bedroom
or study, without knowing which way was north.
You will expect, therefore, that in beginning my
story, I make you distinctly acquainted with the
place where I was born, as well as the objects which
immediately surrounded it. If, indeed, throughout
my narrative, I habitually regard geography and
chronology as essential elements of a story, you will
at least understand that it is done by design and not
by accident.
In the western part of the State of Connecticut, is

26
a small town by the name of Ridgefield. This title
is descriptive, and indicates the general form and po
sition of the place. It is, in fact, a collection of hills,
rolled into one general and commanding elevation.
On the west is a ridge of mountains, forming the
boundary between the States of Connecticut and New-
York ; to the south the land spreads out in wooded
undulations to Long Island Sound ; east and north, a
succession of hills, some rising up against the sky, and
others fading away in the distance, bound the horizon.
In this town, in an antiquated and rather dilapidated
house -of shingles and clapboards, I was born on the
19th of August, 1793.
My father, Samuel Goodrich, was minister of the
First Congregational Church of that place, there be
ing then, no other religious society and no other cler
gyman in the town, except at Ridgebury — the remote
northern section, which was a separate parish. He
was the son of Elizur Goodrich, a distinguished min
ister of the same persuasion, at Durham, Connecticut
Two of his brothers were men of eminence — the late
Chauncey Goodrich of Hartford, and Elizur Goodrich
of New Haven. My mother was a daughter of John
Ely, a physician of Saybrook, whose name figures
not unworthily in the annals of the revolutionary
war. I was the sixth child of a family of ten children.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 27
two of whom died in infancy, and eight of whom
lived to be married and settled in life. All but two
of the latter are still living. My father's annual salary
for the first twenty-five years, and during his minis
try at Ridgefield, averaged £120, old currency — that
is, about four hundred dollars a year : the last twenty-
five years, during which he was settled at Berlin, near
Hartford, his stipend was about five hundred dollars a
year. He was wholly without patrimony, and owing
to peculiar circumstances, which will be hereafter ex
plained, my mother had not even the ordinary outfit,
as they began their married life. Yet they so brought
up their family of eight children, that they all attained
respectable positions in life, and at my father's death,
he left an estate of four thousand dollars.* These
facts throw light upon the simple annals of a country
clergyman in Connecticut, half a century ago ; they
also bear testimony to the thrifty energy and wise fru
gality of my parents, and especially of my mother,
who was the guardian deity of the household.
Ridgefield belongs to the county of Fairfield, and is
now a handsome town, as well on account of its arti
ficial as its natural advantages — with some 2000 in
habitants. It is fourteen miles from Long Island
Sound — of which its many swelling hills afford charm-

* One thousand of this w.is received, a short time before the deatli of
my parents, for the revolutionary services of my maternal grandfather.

28 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
ing views. The main street is a mile in length, and
is now embellished with several handsome houses.
About the middle of it there is, or was, some forty
years ago, a white wooden meeting-house, which be
longed to my father's congregation. It stood in a
small grassy square, the favorite pasture of numerous
flocks of geese, and the frequent playground of school
boys, especially of Saturday afternoons. Close by the
front door ran the public road, and the pulpit, facing
it, looked out upon it, in fair summer Sundays, as I
well remember by a somewhat amusing incident.
In the contiguous town of Lower Salem, dwelt an
aged minister by the name of Mead. He was all his
life marked with eccentricity, and about these days
of which I speak, his mind was rendered yet more
erratic by a touch of paralysis. He was, however,
still able to preach, and on a certain Sunday, having
exchanged with my father, he was in the pulpit and
engaged in making his opening prayer. He had
already begun his invocation, when David P  ,
who was the Jehu of that generation, dashed by
the front door, upon a horse — a clever animal of
which he was but too proud — ^in a full, round trot.
The echo of the clattering hoofs filled the church,
— which being of shingles and clapboards was sono
rous as a drum — and arrested the attention as well of
the minister as the congregation, even before the
rider had reached it. The minister was fond of horses
^almost tc frailty — and from the first, his practiced

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 39
ear perceived that the sounds came from a beast of
bottom. When the animal shot by the door, he could
not restrain his admiration, which was accordingly
thrust into the very marrow of his prayer : " We pray
thee, 0 Lord, in a particular and peculiar manner —
that's a real smart critter — to forgive us our manifold
trespasses, in a particular and peculiar manner," &c.
I have somewhere heard of a traveler on horseback,
who, just at eventide, being uncertain of his road,
inquired of a person he chanced to meet, the way to
Barkhamstead. "You are in Barkhamstead now," was the reply.
"Yes, but where is the center ofthe place?"
" It hasn't got any center."
" Well — but direct me to the tavern."
" There ain't any tavern."
"Yes, but the meeting-house?"
"Wby didn't you ask that afore? There it is,
over the hill !"
So, in those days, in Connecticut — as doubtless in
other parts of New England — the meeting-house was
the great geographical monument, the acknowledged
meridian of every town and village. Even a place
without a center or a tavern, had its house of worship,
and this was its initial point of reckoning. It was,
indeed, something more. It was the town-hall, where
all public meetings were held, for civil purposes ; it
was the temple of religion, the ark of the covenant,
the pillar of society — ^religious, social, and moral —

30 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
to the people around. It will not be considered
strange then, if I look back to the meeting-house of
Ridgefield, as not only a most revered edifice — cov
ered with clapboards and shingles, though it was — but
as in some sense the starting point of my existence.
Here, at least, linger many of my most cherished re
membrances. A few rods to the south of this, there was, and still
is, a tavern, kept in my day, by Squire Keeler. This
institution ranked second only to the meeting-house ;
for the tavern of those days was generally the center
of news, and the gathering place for balls, musical
entertainments, public shows, &c. ; and this particular
tavern had special claims to notice. It was, in the
first place, on the great thoroughfare of that day, be
tween Boston and New York, and had become a gen
eral and favorite stopping-place for travelers. It was,
moreover, kept by a hearty old gentleman, who united
in his single person the varied functions of publican,
postmaster, representative, justice of the peace, and
I know not what else. He besides had a thrifty
wife, whose praise was in all the land. She loved
her customers, especially members of Congress, gov
ernors, and others in authority, who wore powder
and white-top boots, and who migrated to and fro, in
the lofty leisure of their own coaches. She was in
deed a woman of mark, and her life has its moral.
She scoured and scrubbed and kept things going,
until she was seventy years old, at which time, du-

mSTORIOAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 31
ring an epidemic, she was threatened with an attack.
She, however, declared that she had not time to be
sick, and kept on working, so that the disease passed
her by, though it made sad havoc all around her —
especially with more dainty dames, who had leisure
to follow the fashion.
Besides all this, there was an historical interest at
tached to Keeler's tavern, for deeply imbedded in the
northeastern corner-post, there was a cannon-ball,
planted there during the famous fight with the Brit
ish in 1777 . It was one of the chief historical mon
uments of the town, and was visited by all curious
travelers who came that way.* Little can the pres
ent generation imagine with what glowing interest,
what ecstatic wonder, what big round eyes, the rising
generation of Ridgefield, half a century ago, listened
to the account of the fight as given by Lieutenant
Smith, himself a witness of the event and a participa
tor of the conflict, sword in hand.
This personage, whom I shall have occasion again
to introduce to my readers, was, in my time, a justice

* Keeler's tavern appears to have received several cannon-shots
from the British as they marched through the street, these being direct
ed against a group of Americans who had gathered there. A cannon-
ball came crashing through the building, and crossed a staircase just
as a man was ascending the steps. The noise and the splinters over
came him with fright, and he tumbled to the bottom, exclaiming —
" I'm killed, I'm a dead man !" After a time, however, he discovered
that he was unhurt, and thereupon he scampered away, and did not
stop till he was safe in the adjoining town of Wilton.

33 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
of the peace, town librarian, and general oracle in
such loose matters as geography, history, and law —
then about as uncertain and unsettled in Ridgefield,
as is now the fate of Sir John Franklin, or the
longitude of Lilliput. He had a long, lean face;
long, lank, silvery hair, and an unctuous, whining
voice. With these advantages, he spoke with the
authority of a seer, and especially in all things re
lating to the revolutionary war.
The agitating scenes of that event, so really great
in itself, so unspeakably important to the country,
had transpired some five and twenty years before.
The existing generation of middle age, had all wit
nessed it; nearly all had shared in its vicissitudes.
On every hand there were corporals, sergeants, lieu
tenants, captains, and colonels — no strutting fops in
militia buckram, raw blue and buff, all fuss and feath
ers — but soldiers, men who had seen service and won
laurels in the tented field. Every old man, every
old woman had stories to tell, radiant with the vivid
realities of personal observation or experience. Some
had seen Washington, and some Old Put ; one was
at the capture of Ticonderoga under Ethan Allen ;
another was at Bennington, and actually heard old
Stark say, " Victory this day, or my wife Molly is a
widow !" Some were at the taking of Stony Point,
and others in the sanguinary struggle of Monmouth.
One had witnessed the execution of Andre, and an
other had been present at the capture of Burgoyna

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 33
The time which had elapsed since these events, had
served only to magnify and glorify these scenes, as
well as the actors, especially in the imagination of
the rising generation. If perchance we could now
dig up, and galvanize into life, a contemporary of
Julius Csesar, who was present and saw him cross the
Rubicon, and could tell us how he looked and what
he said — we should listen with somewhat of the
greedy wonder with which the boys of Ridgefield list
ened to Lieutenant Smith, when of a Saturday after
noon, seated on the stoop of Keeler's tavern, he dis
coursed upon the discovery of America by Columbus,
Braddock's defeat, and the old French war — the latter
a real epic, embellished with romantic episodes of In
dian massacres and captivities. When he came to
the Revolution, and spoke of the fight at Ridgefield,
and punctuated his discourse with a present cannon-
ball, sunk six inches deep in a corner-post of the very
house in which we sat, you may well believe it was
something more than words — it was, indeed, " action,
action, glorious action 1" How little can people nowa
days — with curiosity trampled down by the march of
mind and the schoolmaster abroad — comprehend or
appreciate these things !

34 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,

LETTER III.
'Che first Remembered Ment—Mgh Ridge— The Spy-glass— Sea and
Mountain — The Peel — T'he BlacTc Patch in the road.
Mt Dear c******
You will perhaps forgive me for a little circum
locution, in the outset of my story. My desire is to
carry you with me in my narrative, and make you
see in imagination, what I have seen. This naturally
requires a little effort — like that of the bird in rising
from the ground, which turns his wing first to the
right and then to the left, vigorously beating .the at
mosphere, in order to overcome the gravity which
weighs the body down to earth, ere yet it feels the
quickening impulse of -a conscious launch upon the
air. My memory goes distinctly back to the year 1797,
when I was four years old. At that time a great
event happened-^— great in the near and narrow hori
zon of childhood : we removed from the Old House
to the New House 1 This latter, situated on a road
tending westward and branching from the main
street, my father had just built ; and it then appeared
to me quite a stately mansion and very beautiful, in
asmuch as it was painted red behind and white in
front — most of the dwellings thereabouts being of

HISTORICAL, ANECDCnCAL, ETC. 35
the dun complexion which pine-boards and chestnut-
shingles assume, .from exposure to the weather. Long
after — having been absent twenty years — I revisited
this my early home, and found it shrunk into a very
small and ordinary two-story dwelling, wholly di
vested of its paint, and scarcely thirty feet square.
This building, apart from all other dwellings, was
situated on what is called High Ridge — a long hill,
looking down upon the village, and commanding an
extensive view of the surrounding country. From
our upper windows, this was at once beautiful and
diversified. On the south, as I have said, the hills
sloped in a sea of undulations down to Long Island
Sound, a distance of some fourteen miles. This beau
tiful sheet of water, like a strip of pale sky, with the
island itself, more deeply tinted, beyond, was visible
in fair weather, for a stretch of sixty miles, to the
naked eye. The vessels — even the smaller ones,
sloops, schooners, and fishing craft — could be seen,
creeping like insects over the surface. With a spy
glass — and my father had one bequeathed to him by
Nathan Kellogg, a sailor, who made rather a rough
voyage of life, but anchored at last in the bosom
of the church, as this bequest intimates — we could
see the masts, sails, and rigging. It was a poor,
dim affair, compared with modern instruments of
the kind; but to me, its revelations of an element
which then seemed as beautiful, as remote, and as
mystical as the heavens, surpassed the wonders ot
Vol. L— 2

36
the firmament as since disclosed to my mind by Lord
Rosses telescope.
To the west, at the distance of three miles, lay the
undulating ridge of hills, cliffs, and precipices already
mentioned, and which bear the name of West Moun
tain. They are some five hundred feet in height, and
from our point of view had an imposing appearance.
Beyond them, in the far distance, glimmered the
ghost-like peaks of the Highlands along the Hudson.
These two prominent features of the spreading land
scape — the sea and the mountain, ever present, yet
ever remote — impressed themselves on my young
imagination with all the enchantment which distance
lends to the view. I have never lost my first love.
Never, even now, do I catch a glimpse of either of
these two rivals of nature, such as I first learned
them by heart, but I feel a gush of emotion as if I had
suddenly met with the cherished companions of my
childhood. In after days, even the purple velvet of
the Apennines and the poetic azure of the Mediter
ranean, have derived additional beauty to my imagi
nation from mingling with these vivid associations of
my childhood.
It was to the New House, then, thus situated, that
we removed, as I have stated, when I was four years
old. On that great occasion, every thing available
for draft or burden was put in requisition ; and I was
permitted, or required, I forget which, to carry the
peelj as it was then called, but which would now bear

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 37
the title of shovel. Birmingham had not then been
heard of in those parts, or at least was a great way
off; so this particular utensil had been forged ex
pressly for my father by David Olmstead, the black
smith, as was the custom in those days. I recollect
it well, and can state that it was a sturdy piece oi
iron, the handle being four feet long, with a hemi
spherical knob at the end. As I carried it along, I
doubtless felt a touch of that consciousness of power,
which must have filled the breast of Samson as he
bore off the gates of Gaza. I . recollect perfectly well
to have perspired under the operation, for the dis
tance of our migration was half a mile, and the season
was summer.
One thing more I remember : I was barefoot ; and
as we went up the lane which diverged from the
main road to the house, we passed over a patch of
earth, blackened by cinders, where my feet were hurt
by pieces of melted glass and metal. I inquired
what this meant, and was told that here a house was
burned down* by the British troops already men-
* Lossing says, in his Field Book, p. 409, vol. i. ; " Having repulsed
the Americans, Tryon's army encamped upon high ground, about a mile
south ofthe Congregational church in Kidgefleld, until daylight the next
morning, when they resumed their march toward Norwalk and Compo,
through Wilton. Four dwellings were burned in Eidgefield, and other
private property was destroyed, when the marauders struck their
tents." The "high ground" here spoken of was High Eidge, the precise spot
where the house I have described, stood. Doubtless the vestiges here
mentioned were those of one ofthe four houses alluded to.

38 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
tioned — and then in full retreat — as a signal to the
ships that awaited them on the Sound where they
had landed, and where they intended to embark.
This detail may seem trifling, but it is not without
significance. It was the custom in those days for
boys to go barefoot in the mild season. I recollect
few things in life more delightful than, in the spring,
to cast away my shoes and stockings, and have
a glorious scamper over the fields. Many a time,
contrary to the express injunctions of my mother,
have I stolen this bliss, and many a time have I been
punished by a severe cold for my imprudence, if not
my disobedience. Yet the bliss then seemed a com
pensation for the retribution. In these exercises I
felt as if stepping on air — as if leaping aloft on wings.
I was so impressed with the exultant emotions thus
experienced, that I repeated them a thousand times
in happy dreams, especially in my younger days.
Even now, these visions sometimes come to me in
sleep, though with a lurking consciousness that they
are but a mockery of the past — sad monitors of the
change which time has wrought upon me.
As to the black patch in the lane, that too had its
meaning. The story of a house burned down by a
foreign army, seized upon my imagination. Every
time I passed the place, I ruminated upon it, and put
a hundred questions as to how and when it hap
pened. I was soon master of the whole story, and of
other similar events which had occurred all over the

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 39
country. I was thus initiated into the spirit of that
day, and which has never wholly subsided in our
country, inasmuch as the war of the Revolution was
alike unjust in its origin, and cruel as to the manner
in which it was waged. It was, moreover, fought on
our own soil, thus making the whole people share,
personally, in its miseries. There was scarcely a
family in Connecticut whom it did not visit, either
immediately or remotely, with the shadows of mourn
ing and desolation. The British nation, to whom
this conflict was a foreign war, are slow to com
prehend the depth and universality of the popular
dislike of England, here in America. Could they
know the familiar annals of our towns and villages —
burned, plundered, sacked — with all the attendant
horrors, for the avowed purpose of punishing a na
tion of rebels, and those rebels of their own kith and
kin; could they be made acquainted' with the deeds
of those twenty thousand Hessians, sent hither by
King George, and who have left their name in our
language as a word signifying brigands, who sell their
blood and commit murder, massacre, and rape for
hire : could they thus read the history of minds and
hearts, influenced at the fountains of life for several
generations — they would perhaps comprehend, if
they could not approve, the habitual distrust of
British influence, which lingers among our people.
At least, thus instructed, and bearing in mind what
has since happened — another war with England, in

40 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
which our own territory was the scene of conflict, to
gether with the incessant hostility of the British press
toward our manners, our institutions, our policy, our
national character, manifested in every form, and
from the beginning to the end- — ^the people of Eng
land might in some degree comprehend what always
^strikes them with amazement, that love of England
is not largely infused into our national character and
habits of thought.

LETTER IV.
Education im New England — The Burial Ground qf the Suicide — West
Lane — Old Ohichester — The School-House — The First Day at School —
Aunt Delight — Lewis Olmstead— A Retum after Twenty Years — Peter
Parley and Mother Goose.
Mt dear 0 ***** *
The devotion of the New-England people to
education has been celebrated from time immemorial.
In this trait of character, Connecticut was not behind
the foremost of her sister puritans. Now, among the
traditions of the days to which my narrative refers,
there was one which set forth that the law of the land
assigned to persons committing suicide, a burial-place
where four roads met. I do not recollect that this
popular notion was ever tested iu Ridgefield, for

41
nobody in those innocent days, so far as I know,
became weary of existence. Be this as it may, it is
certain that the village school-house was often plant
ed in the very spot supposed to be the privileged
graveyard of suicides. The reason is plain enough :
the roads were always of ample width at the cross
ings, and the narrowest of these spaces was sufficient
for the little brown seminaries of learning. At the
same time — and this was doubtless the material point
¦ — the land belonged to the town, and so the site
would cost nothing. Such were the ideas of village
education in enlightened New England half a cen
tury ago. Let those who deny the progress of socie
ty, compare this with the state of things at the pres
ent day.
* About three-fourths of a mile from my father's
house, on the winding road to Lower Salem which I
have already mentioned, and which bore the name of
West Lane, was the school-house where I took my
first lessons, and received the foundations of my very
slender education. I have since been sometimes asked
where I graduated: my reply has always been, "at
West Lane." Generally speaking, this has ended the
inquiry, whether because my interlocutors have con
founded this venerable institution with "Lane Sem
inary," or have not thought it worth while to risk an
exposure of their ignorance as to the college in which
I was educated, I am unable to say.
The site of the school-house was a triangular piece

42 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
of land, measuring perhaps a rood in extent, and ly
ing, according to the custom of those days, at the
meeting of four roads. The ground hereabouts — as
everywhere else in Ridgefield — was exceedingly sto
ny, and in making the pathway the stones had been
thrown out right and left, and there remained in
heaps on either side, from generation to generation.
All around was bleak and desolate. Loose, squat
stone walls, with innumerable breaches, inclosed the
adjacent fields. A few tufts of elder, with here and
there a patch of briers and pokeweed, flourished in
the gravelly soil. Not a tree, however, remained,
save an aged chestnat, at the western angle of the
space. This, certainly, had not been spared for
shade or ornament, but probably because it would
have cost too much labor to cut it down, for it was
of ample girth. At all events it was the oasis in our
desert during summer ; and in autumn, as the burrs
disclosed its fruit, it resembled a besieged city. The
boys, like so many catapults, hurled at it stones and
sticks, until every nut had capitulated.
Two houses only were at hand: one, surrounded
by an ample barn, a teeming orchard, and an enor
mous wood-pile, belonged to Granther Baldwin ; the
other was the property of " Old Chich-es-ter," an un
couth, unsocial being, whom everybody for some rea
son or other seemed to despise and shun. His house
was of stone and of one story. He had a cow, which
every year had a calf. He had a wife — filthy, un-

48
combed, and vaguely reported to have been brought
from the old country. This is about the whole his
tory ofthe man, so far as it is written in the authen
tic traditions of the parish. His premises, an acre in
extent, consisted ofa tongue of land between two of
the converging roads. No boy, that I ever heard of,
ventured to cast a stone, or to make an incursion into
this territory, though it lay close to the school-house.
I have often, in passing, peeped timidly over the
walls, and caught glimpses of a stout man with a
drab coat, drab breeches, and drab gaiters, glazed
with ancient grease and long abrasion, prowling about
the house ; but never did I discover him outside oi
his own dominion. I know it was darkly intimated
that he had been a tory, and was tarred and feathered
in the revolutionary war, but as to the rest he was a
perfect myth. Granther Baldwin was a character no
less marked, but I must reserve his picture for a
subsequent letter.
The school-house itself consisted of rough, unpaint-
ed clapboards, upon a wooden frame. It was plas
tered within, and contained two apartments — a little
entry, taken out of a corner for a wardrobe, and the
school-room proper. The chimney was of stone, and
pointed with mortar, which, by the way, had been dug
into a honeycomb by uneasy and enterprising pen
knives. The fireplace was six feet wide and four feet
deep. The flue was so ample and so perpendicular,
that the rain, sleet, and snow fell direct to the hearth.
2*

44 LETTEES — BIOGRAPHICAL,
In winter, the battle for life with green fizzling
fuel, which was brought in sled lengths and cut up
by the scholars, was a stern one. Not unfrequently,
the wood, gushing with sap as it was, chanced to be
out, and as there was no living without fire, the ther
mometer being ten or twenty degrees below zero, the
school was dismissed, whereat all the scholars rejoiced
aloud, not having the fear of the schoolmaster before
their eyes.
It was the custom at this place, to have a woman's
school in the summer months, and this was attended
only by young children. It was, in fact, what we
now call a primary or infant school. In winter, a
man was employed as teacher, and then the girls and
boys of the neighborhood, up to the age of eighteen,
or even twenty, were among the pupils. It was not
uncommon, at this season, to have forty scholars
crowded into this little building.
I was about six years old when I first wedt to
school. My teacher was Aunt Delight, that is. De
light Benedict, a maiden lady of fifty, short and bent.
of sallow complexion and solemn aspect. I remem
ber the first day with perfect distinctness. I went
alone — for I was familiar with the road, it being that
which passed by our old house. I carried a little
basket, with bread and butter within, for my dinner
the same being covered over with a white cloth.
When I had proceeded about half way, I lifted the
cover, and debated whether I would not eat my din-

45
ner, then. I believe it was a sense of duty only that
prevented my doing so, for in those happy days, I
always had a keen appetite. Bread and butter were
then infinitely superior to pate de foie gras now ; but
still, thanks to my training, I had also a conscience.
As my mother had given me the food for dinner, I
did not think it right to convert it into lunch, even
though I was strongly tempted.
I think we had seventeen scholars — boys and girls
— mostly of my own age. Among them were some
of my after companions. I have since met several of
them — one at Savannah, and two at Mobile, respect
ably established, and with families around them.
Some remain, and are now among the gray old men
of the town ; the names of others I have seen inscribed
on the tombstones of their native village. And the
rest — where are they ?
The school being organized, we were all seated
upon benches, made of what were called slabs — that
is, boards having the exterior or rounded part of the
log on one side : as they were useless for other pur
poses, these were converted into school-benches, the
rounded part down. They had each four supports,
consisting of straddling wooden legs, set into augur-
holes. Our own legs swayed in the air, for they
were too short to touch the floor. Oh, what an awe
fell over me, when we were all seated and silence
reigned around !
The children were called ud, one by one. to Aunt

46 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Delight, who sat on a low chair, and required each,
as a preliminary, to make his manners, consisting of
a small sudden nod or jerk of the head. She then
placed the spelling-book — which was Dilworth's — ^be
fore the pupil, and with a buck-handled penknife
pointed, one by one, to the letters of the alphabet,
saying, " What's that ?" If the child knew his letters,
the "what's that?" very soon ran on thus:
"What's that?"
"A." " 'Stha-a-t?"
" B."
"Sna-a-a-t?" "C.""Sna-a-a-t?""D.""Sna-a-a-t?"
"E." &c.
I looked upon these operations with intense curi
osity and no small respect, until my own turn came.
I went up to the school-mistress with some emotion,
and when she said, rather spitefully, as I thought,
" Make your obeisance I" my little intellects all fled
away, and I did nothing. Having waited a second,
gazing at me with indignation, she laid her hand on
the top of my head, and gave it a jerk which made
my teeth clash. I believe I bit my tongue a little ;
at all events, my sense of dignity was offended, and
when she pointed to A, and asked what it was, it

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 47
swam before me dim and hazy, and as big as s. Ml
moon. She repeated the question, but I was dogged
ly silent. Again, a third time, she said, " What's
that ?" I replied : " Why don't you tell me what it
is ? I didn't come here to learn you your letters !"
I have not the slightest remembrance of this, for my
brains were all a- woolgathering ; but as Aunt Delight
af&rmed it to be a fact, and it passed into a tradition,
I put it in. I may have told this story some years
ago in one of my books, imputing it to a fictitious
hero, yet this is its true origin, according to my rec
ollection. What immediately followed I do not clearly remem
ber, but one result is distinctly traced in my memory.
In the evening of this eventful day, the school-mistress
paid my parents a visit, and recounted to their aston
ished ears this, my awful contempt of authority. My
father, after hearing the story, got up and went away ;
but my mother, who was a careful disciplinarian, told
me not to do so again 1 I always had a suspicion
that both of them smiled on one side of their faces,
even while they seemed to sympathize with the old
petticoat and pen-knife pedagogue, on the other ; still
I do'not affirm it, for I am bound to say, of both my
parents, that I never knew them, even in trifles, say
one thing while they meant another.
I believe I achieved the alphabet that summer, but
my after progress, for a long time, I do not remember.
Two years later I went to the winter-school at the

48 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL.
same place, kept by Lewis Olmstead — a man who had
a call for plowing, mowing, carting manure, &c., in
summer, and for teaching school in the winter, with
a talent for music at all seasons, wherefore he became
chorister upon occasion, when, peradventure, Deacon
Hawley could not officiate. He was a celebrity in
ciphering, and 'Squire Seymour declared that he was
the greatest " arithmeticker" in Fairfield county. All
I remember of his person is his hand, which seemed
to me as big as Goliah's, judging by the claps of
thunder it made in my ears on one or two occa
sions. The next step of my progress which is marked in
my memory, is the spelling of words of two syllables.
I did not go very regularly to school, but by the time
I was ten years old I had learned to write, and had
made a little progress in arithmetic. There was not
a grammar, a geography, or a history of any kind in
the school. Reading, writing, and arithmetic were the
only things taught, and these very indifferently — not
wholly from the stupidity of the teacher, but because
he had forty scholars, and the standards ofthe age re
quired no more than he performed. I did as well as
the other scholars, certainly no better. I had excel
lent health and joyous spirits; in leaping, running,
and wrestling I had but one superior of my age, and
that was Stephen Olmstead, a snug-built fellow, small
er than myself, and who, despite our rivalry, was
my chosen friend and companion. I seemed to live

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 49
for play : alas ! how the world has changed since I
have discovered that we live to agonize over study,
work, care, ambition, disappointment, and then  ?
As I shall not have occasion again, formally, to in
troduce this seminary into my narrative, I may as
well close my account of it now. After I had left
my native town for some twenty years, I returned
and paid it a visit. Among the monuments that
stood high in my memory was the West Lane school-
house. Unconsciously carrying with me the meas
ures of childhood, I had supposed it to be at least
thirty feet square ; how had it dwindled when I
came to estimate it by the new standards I had
formed ! It was in all things the same, yet wholly
changed to me. What I had deemed a respectable
edifice, as it now stood before me was only a weather-
beaten little shed, which, upon being measured, I
found to be less than^ twenty feet square. It happen
ed to be a warm, summer day, and I ventured to enter
the place. I found a girl, some eighteen years old,
keeping a ma'am school for about twenty scholars,
some of whom were studying Parley's Geography.
The mistress was the daughter of one of my school
mates, and some of the boys and girls were grand
children of the little brood which gathered under the
wing of Aunt Delight, when I was an a-b-c-darian.
None of them, not even the school-mistress, had ever
heard of me. The name of my father, as having min
istered unto the people of Ridgefield in some bygone

50 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
age, was faintly traced in their recollection. As to
Peter Parley, whose geography they were learning —
they supposed him some decrepit old gentleman hob
bling about on a crutch, a long way off, for whom,
nevertheless, they hfd a certain affection, inasmuch
as he had made geography into a story-book. The
frontispiece-picture of the old fellow, with his gouty
foot in a chair, threatening the boys that if they
touched his tender toe, he would tell them no more
stories — secured their respect, and placed him among
the saints in the calendar of their young hearts.
Well, thought I, if this goes on I may yet rival
Mother Goose I

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 51

LETTER V.
The Joyous Nature qf Childhood — Drawbacks — The Small-pox — T?ie Pest
House — Our House a Hospital — Inoculation — The Force qf Early Im
pressions.

Mt dear 0 ***** *
I hope you will not imagine that I am thinking
too little of your amusement and too much of my
own, if I stop a few moments to note the lively rec
ollections I entertain of the joyousness of my early
life, and not of mine only, but that of my playmates
and companions. In looking back to those early
days, the whole circle of the seasons seems to me
almost like one unbroken morning of pleasure.
I was of course subjected to the usual crosses in
cident to my age — those painful and mysterious vis
itations sent upon children — the measles, mumps,
whooping-cough, and the like — usually regarded as
retributions for the false step of our mother Eve in
the Garden ; but they have almost passed from my
memory, as if overflowed and borne away by the
general drift of happiness which filled my bosom.
Among these calamities, one monument alone re
mains — the small-pox. It was in the year 1798, as I

52 well remember, that my father's house was converted
into a hospital, or, as it was then called, a "pest-
house," where, with some dozen other children, I
was inoculated for this disease, then the scourge and
terror of the world.
It will be remembered that Jenner published his
first memoir upon vaccination about "this period, but
his discoveries were generally repudiated as mere
charlatanism, for some time after. There were regu
lar small-pox hospitals in different parts of New Eng
land, usually in isolated situations, so as not to risk
dissemination of the dreaded infection. One of these,
and quite the most celebrated of its time, had been
established by my maternal grandfather upon Duck
Island, lying off the present town of West Brook —
then called Pochaug — in Long Island Sound ; but it
had been destroyed by the British during the Revolu
tion, and was never revived. There was one upon the
northern shore of Long Island, and doubtless many
others ; but as it was often inconvenient to send chil
dren to these places, several families would unite and
convert one house, favorably situated, into a tempo
rary hospital, for the inoculation of such as needed
it. It was in pursuance of this custom that our hab-
itaiion was selected, on the present occasion, as the
scene of this somewhat awful process.
There were many circumstances which contributed
to impress this event upon my mind. In the first
place, there was a sort of popular horror of the " pest-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 53
house," not merely because of the virulent nature of
small-pox, but because of a common superstitious
fefelibg in the community — though chiefly confined
¦to the ignorant classes — that voluntarily to create
the disease, was contrary to nature, and a plain tempt
ing of Providence. In their view, if death ensued, it
was esteemed little better than murder. Thus, as our
house was being put in order for the coming scene,
and as the subjects of the fearful experiment were
gathering in, a gloom pervaded all countenances, and
its shadow naturally fell upon me.
The lane in which our house was situated was fenced
up, north and south, so as to cut off all intercourse
with the world around. A flag was raised, and upon
it were inscribed the ominous words |^°° "small
pox." My uncle and aunt, from New Haven, arrived
with their three children.* Half a dozen others of
the neighborhood were gathered together, making,
with our own children, somewhat over a dozen
subjects for the experiment. When all was ready,
like Noah and his family we were shut in. Pro
visions were deposited in a basket at a point agreed
upon, down the lane. Thus, we were cut off from
the world, excepting only that Dr. Perry, the physi
cian, ventured to visit us in our fell dominion.
As to myself, the disease passed lightly over, leav-

* Elizur Goodrich, now of Hartford ; Professor Chauncey A. Good
rich uowof Yale College; and the late Mrs. Nanoy Ellsworth, wife
of II. L. Ellsworth, former Commissioner of Patents, at Washington.

54 LETTEES — ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
ing, however, its indisputable autographs upon va
rious parts of my body.* Were it not for these
testimonials, I should almost suspect that I had es
caped the disease, for T only remember, among my
symptoms and my sufferings, a little headache, and
the privation of salt and butter upon my hasty -pud
ding. My restoration to these privileges I distinctly
recollect : doubtless these gave me more pleasure
than the dean bill of health which they irftplied.
Several of the patients suffered severely, and among
them my brother and one of my cousins. The latter,
in a recent conversation upon the subject, claimed
the honor of two thousand pustules, and was not a
little humbled when, by documentary evidence, they
were reduced to two hundred.
Yet, while it is evident that I was subjected to
the usual drawbacks upon the happiness of child
hood, these were, in fact, so few as to have passed
away from my mind, leaving in my memory only
the general tide of life, seeming, as I look back, to
have been one bright current of enjoyment, flowing
* It may not be useless to state, in passing, that in 1850, one of my
family, who had been vaccinated thirty years before, was attacked by
varioloid. It being deemed advisable that all of bs should be vacci
nated, I was subjected to the process, and this took such effect upon
me that I had a decided fever, with partial delirium, for two days ; thus
showing my accessibility to the infection of small-pox. Here then was
evidence that both vaccination and inoculation are not perpetual guar
antees against this disease — a fact, indeed, now fully admitted by the
medical faculty. The doctrine is, that the power of these pr«-/entives
becomes, at last, worn out, and therefore prudence dictates vtapefc^
tion of vacdnation after about ten years.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 55
amid flowers, and all in the company of companions
as happy and jubilant as myself. By a beautiful al
chemy ofthe heart, the clouds of early life appear after
ward to be only accessories to the universal spring
tide of pleasure. Even this dark episode of the pest-
house, stands in my memory as rather an interesting
event, partly because there was something strange
and romantic about it, and partly because it is the
office of the imagination to gild with sunshine even
the clouds of the past.
In all this, my experience was in no way peculiar :
I was but a representation of childhood in all coun
tries and ages. I do not forget the instances in
which children are subjected to misfortune, nor the
moral obliquity which is in every childish heart.
But making due allowance for the shadows thus cast
upon the spring of life, its general current is such as
T have described.

56 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL.

LETTER VI.
Tlie Inner Life of Towns — Physical Aspect and, Character of Ridgefield —
Eff'ects of Cultivation upon Climate — Energetic Character of the First
Settlers of Ridgefield — Glasses of the People as to Descent — Their Oc
cupations — Newspapers — Position, of my Father''s Family — Man^ement
of the Farm, — Domest'ic Economy — Mechanical Professions — Beef and
Pork — The Thanksgiving Turkey — Bread — Fuel — Flint and Steel —
Friction Matches — Prof. Silliman — Pyroligneous Acid — Maple Sugar —
Sum — Dram-drinking — Tansey Bitters — Brandy — 'Whisky — The First
"Still" — 'fVine — Dr. G.'s Sacramental Wine — Domestic Products-
Bread and Butter — Linen and Woolen Cloth — Cotton — Ilax and
Wool — T'he Little Splnnin,g-w7ieel — Sally St. John and the Rat-trap —
Manufacture of Wool — Molly Gregory and Fugin,g Tunes — The Tanner
and Hatter — 'The Revolving Shoemaker — Whipping the Oat — Carpets
— Conerlids and Quillings — Village Bees and Raisings — -The Meeting-
liouse that was destroyed by lAghtning — Deaconing a Hymn.
Mt dear 0 ***** *
It will be no new suggestion to a reflecting man
like yourself, that towns, as well as men, have their
inner and their outer life. There is a striking differ
ence in one respect, between the two subjects ; the
age of man is set at threescore years and ten, while
towns seldom die. The pendulum of human life
vibrates by seconds, that of towns by centuries. The
history of cities, the focal points of society, may be
duly chronicled even to their minutest incidents ;
but cities do not constitute nations ; the mass of al
most every country is in the smaller towns and vil
lages. The outer life of these is vaguely jotted down

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 57
in the census, and reported in the Gazetteers; but
their inner life, which comprises the condition and
progress of the community at large, is seldom writ
ten. We may see glimpses of it in occasional ser
mons, in special biographies, in genealogical memo
randa. We- may take periods of fifty years, and
deduce certain general inferences from statistical ta
bles of births and deaths ; but still, the living men
and, manners as they rise in a country town, are sel
dom portrayed. I am therefore tempted to give you
a rapid sketch of Ridgefield and of the people — -how
they lived, thought, and felt, at the beginning of the
present century. It will serve as an example of
rustic life throughout New England, fifty years ago,
and it will moreover enable me, by contrasting this
state of things with what I found to exist many years
after, to show the steady, though silent, and perhaps
unnoted progress of society among us.
From what I have already said, you will easily
imagine the prominent physical characteristics and
aspect of my native town — a general mass of hills,
rising up in a crescent of low mountains, and com
manding a wide view on every side. The soil was
naturally hard, and thickly sown with stones of ev
ery size, from the immovable rock to the jjebble.
The fields, at this time, were divided by rude stone
walls, and the surface of most was dotted with
gathered heaps of stones and rocks, thus clearing
spaces for cultivation, yet leaving a large portion of
3*

58 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
the land still encumbered with its original curse.
The climate was severe, on account of the elevation
of the site, yet this was perhaps fully compensated
by a corresponding salubrity.
I may add,' in passing, that the climate of New
England generally, has been mitigated within the last
fifty years by the changes which civilization has
wrought on the surface of the country — ^the felling of
forests, the draining of marshes, the cultivation of
the soil, and other similar causes — to an extent not
generally appreciated. A person who has not made
observations for a long period of time, is hardly
aware of these mutations — effected by a growing and
industrious agricultural community, even in the stern
er features of nature. This may, however, be easily
appreciated, if one will compare a district of country
covered with its original forests, and converted into
one vast sponge by its thick coating of weeds, shrubs,
mosses, and decayed wood — the accumulations of cen
turies — thus making the hills and valleys a universal
swamp, hoarding the rains of summer, and treasuring
the snows of winter— with the same district, cleared
of its trees, its soil turned up by the plow to the
sun, and its waste waters carried off by roads and
drains. ^ Such a process over a whole country, is evi
dently sufficient to affect its temperature, and ma
terially to modify its climate. I know many tracts
of land, which, fifty years ago, were reeking with
moisture, their surface defying cultivation by the

59
plow, and their roads impassable a great part of
the year by means of the accumulation of water in
the soil — now covered with houses, gardens, and corn
fields, and all the result of the slow but transform
ing processes bestowed by man upon every country
which he subjects to cultivation. Nature is like man
himself — rude in his aspect and severe in his temper,
until softened and subdued by civilization. Our New
England, two centuries ago, was, like its inhabitants,
bleak and wild to the view, harsh and merciless in
its climate : the change of these is analogous to the
change which has been effected by substituting towns
and villages for wigwams, and Christian man for the
sa\age. Yet despite the somewhat forbidding nature of the
soil and climate of Ridgefield, it may be regarded as
presenting a favorable example of New England
country life and society, at the beginning of the pres
ent century. The town was originally settled by a
sturdy race of men, mostly the immediate descendants
of English emigrants, some from Norwalk and some
from Milford. Their migration over an intervening
space of savage hills, rocks, and ravines, into a ter
ritory so forbidding, and their speedy conversion of
this into a thriving and smiling village, are witnesses
to their courage and energy. The names which they
bore, and which have been disseminated over the
Union — Benedicts, Olmsteads, Northups, Keelers,
Hoyts, Nashes, Dauceys, Meads, Hawleys — are no

60 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
less significant of the vigor and manliness of the
stock to which they belonged.
At the time referred to, the date of my earliest
recollection, the society of Ridgefield was exclusively
English, and the manners and customs such as might
have been expected, under the modifying influence
of existing circumstances. I remember but one Irish
man, one negro, and one Indian in the town. The
first had begged and blarneyed his way from Long
Island, where he had been wrecked ; the second was
a liberated slave ; and the last was the vestige of a
tribe, which dwelt of yore in a swampy tract, the
name of which I have forgotten. We had a pro
fessed beggar, called Jagger, who had served in the
armies of more than one of the Georges, and insisted
upon crying " God save the king !" even on the 4th
of July, and when openly threatened by the boys
with a gratuitous ride on a rail. We had one set
tled pauper, Mrs. Yabacomb, who, for the first dozen
years of my life, was my standard type for the witch
of En dor.
Nearly all the inhabitants of Ridgefield were farm-
ei;s, with the few mechanics that were necessary to
carry on society in a somewhat primeval state.
Even the persons not professionally devoted to agri
culture, had each his farm, or at least his garden and
home lot, with his pigs, poultry, and cattle. The pop
ulation might hsLvc, been 1200, comprising two hun
dred families. All could read and write, but in point

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 61
of fact, beyond the Almanac and Watts' Psalms and
Hymns, their literary acquirements had little scope.
There were, I think, four newspapers, all weekly,
published in the State : one at Hartford, one at New
London, one at New Haven, and one at Litchfield.
There were, however, not more than three subscribers
to all these in our village. We had, however, a pub
lic library of some two hundred volumes, and what
was of equal consequence — the town was on the road
which was then the great thoroughfare, connecting
Boston with New York, and hence it had means of
intelligence from travelers constantly passing through
the place, which kept it up with the march of events.
If Ridgefield was thus rather above the average of
Connecticut villages in its range of civilization, I sup
pose the circumstances and modes of life in my fa
ther's family, were somewhat above those of most
people around us. We had a farm of forty acres,
with four cows, two horses, and some two dozen
sheep, to which may be added a stock of poultry, in
cluding a flock of geese. My father carried on the
farm, besides preaching two sermons a week, and at
tending to other parochial duties — visiting the sick,
attending funerals, solemnizing marriages, &c. He
personally laid out the beds and planted the garden ,
he pruned the fruit-trees, and worked with the men
in the meadow in the press of haying-time. He
generally cut the corn-stalks himself, and always
shelled the ears ; the latter being done by drawing

62 LETTERS — ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
them across the handle of the frying-pan, fastened
over a wash-tub. I was sometimes permitted, as an
indulgence, to spell my father in this, which was
a favorite employment. With these and a few other
exceptions, our agricultural operations were carried
on by hired help.
It may seem that I should have passed over these
somewhat commonplace passages in my father's life,
but my judgment teaches me otherwise. There is
good example and good argument in behalf of these
labors of the garden and the field, even in a profes
sional man. Not to cite Achilles and Abraham, who
slaughtered their own mutton, and Cincinnatus, who
held his own plow, it was the custom in New Eng
land, at the time I speak of, for country lawyers,
physicians, clergymen — even Doctors of Divinity, to
partake of these homespun labors. In the library
of the Atheneum at Hartford, is a collection of Al
manacs, formerly belonging to John Cotton Smith —
one of the most elegant and accomplished men of his
time — a distinguished member of Congress, Judge of
the Superior Court, and several years Governor of the
State. In looking it over, I observed such notes as
the following, made with his own hand: "cut my
barley," "began rye harvest," "planted field of po
tatoes," &c.; thus showing his personal attention to,
if not his participation in, the affairs of the farm.*
* See a further notice of Gov. Smith, page 551.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 63
Nearly all the judges ofthe Superior Court occasion
ally worked in the field, in these hearty old federal
times. Whether these facts may be connected with others,
which I am about to state, is a question I leave for
doctors to determine. Certain it is that at this period
professional men had good health and good diges-
tionj no clergyman was known to have bronchitis.
I seldom heard of dyspepsia, bodily or mental, during
the existence of the Charter of Charles II. There is
a pretty common notion in the United States, that
Jefferson infused a general -demagogism into this
country, which percolated through the blood and
bone of society, and set everybody in some way
or other, to flattering the masses. It is certain that
about this time, not only the politician, but the
preacher, the lawyer, the editor, the author, all took
to talking, speech-making, lecturing in a new way, in
a new sense — that is, so as to seduce the multitude.
Thus was ushered in the Age of Talk, which soon
grew into a rage. The mania kept pace with democ
racy, and democracy with the mania ; and at last,
at the end of this national flatulence, the world grew
light-headed, and forth came a spawn of isms, which
no man can number. Under the influence of this
advent of new notions, some took to cold water and
some to mint-juleps ; some to raw vegetables and some
to, hot slings. All agonized in one way or another.
Every thing grew intense : politics swam with pota-

64 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
tions ; religion got mixed up with transcendentalism ;
until at last, professors took to table-turning and
judges to spirit-rappings. Now I do not say that all
this is a sequence of logical deductions : that spirit
ualism is to be fathered upon Thomas Jefferson : what
I affirm is, that demagogism and democracy, dyspep
sia and transcendentalism, vegetarianism and spirit
ualism, have all come up, one after another, since old
federalism went down I If it is any object to cure
mankind of these vapors, I recommend that we all go
back to the habits of other days, in which ministers,
judges and governors wrought occasionally in the field.
But I return to Ridgefield. The household, as
well as political, economy of these days lay in this,
that every family lived as much as possible within
itself Money was scarce, wages being about fifty
cents a day, though these were generally paid in meat,
vegetables, and other articles of use — seldom in
money. There was not a factory of any kind in the
place.* There was a butcher, but he only went
from house to house to slaughter the cattle and swine
of his neighbors. There was a tanner, but he only
dressed other people's skins : there was a clothier,
but he generally fulled and dressed other people's
cloth. All this is typical of the mechanical opera-
"¦ I recollect, as an after-thought, one exception. There was a hatter
who supplied the town ; but he generally m.^de hats to order, and usu
ally in exchange for the skins of foxes, rabbits, muskrats, and other
chance peltry. 1 frequently purchased my powder and shot from the
proceeds of skins which I sold him.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 65
tions of the place. Even dyeing blue a portion of
the wool, so as to make linsey-woolsey for short
gowns, aprons, and blue-mixed stockings — vital ne
cessities in those days — was a domestic operation.
During the autumn, a dye-tub in the chimney corner
— thus placed so as to be cherished by the genial heat
— was as familiar in all thrifty houses, as the Bible
or the back-log. It was covered with a board, and
formed a cosy seat in the wide-mouthed fireplace,
especially of a chill evening. When the night had
waned, and the family had retired, it frequently be
came the anxious seat of the lover, who was per
mitted to carry on his courtship, the object of his
addresses sitting demurely in the opposite corner.
Some of the first families in Connecticut, I suspect,
could their full annals be written, would find their
foundations to have been laid in these chimney-corner
courtships. Being thus exposed, this institution of the dye-tub
was the frequent subject of distressing and exciting
accidents. Among the early, indelible incidents in
my memory, happening to all vigorous characters,
turning this over is on e of the most prominent. Noth
ing so roused the indignation of thrifty housewives,
for besides the ignominious avalanche of blue upon
the floor, there was an infernal appeal made to an
other sense than that of sight. Every youth of parts
was laden with experience in this way. I have a
vague impression that Philip N . . . ., while courting

66 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
H . . . • M . . ., was suspended for six weeks, for one
of these mischances. If it was not he, it was some
other spark of that generation.
To this general system of domestic economy our
family was not an exception. Every autumn, it was
a matter of course that we had a fat ox or a fat cow,
ready for slaughter. One fall barrel was salted
down; the hams were cut out, slightly salted, and
hung up in the chimney for a few days, and thus be
came "dried" or "hung beef," then as essential as
the staff of life. Pork was managed in a similar way,
though even on a large? scale, for two barrels were
indispensable. A few pieces, as the spare-ribs, &c.,
were distributed to the neighbors, who paid in kind
when they killed their swine.
Mutton and poultry came in their turn, all from
our own stock, save that on Thanksgiving-day some
of the magnates gave the parson a turkey. This,
let me observe, in those good old times, was a bird
of mark ; no timid, crouching biped, with downcast
head and pallid countenance, but stalking like a lord,
and having wattles red as a "banner bathed in
slaughter." His beard, or in modern parlance, his
goatj without the aid of gum and black-ball, was so
long, shining, and wiry, that it might have provoked
the envy of his modern human rival in foppery.
There was, in fact, something of the genius of the
native bird still in him, for though the race was ne'ar-
ly extinct, a few wild flocks lingered in the remote

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 67
woods. Occasionally in the depth of winter, and along
to the early spring, these stole to the barnyard, and
held communion with their civilized compatriots. Se
vere battles ensued among the leaders for the favors
of the fair, and as the wild cocks always conquered,
the vigor of the race was kept up.
Our bread was of rye, tinged with Indian meal.
Wheat bread was reserved for the sacrament and
company ; a proof not of its superiority, but of its
scarcity and consequent estimation. All the vegeta
bles came from our garden and farm. The fuel was
supiplied by our own woods-:— sweet-scented hickory,
snapping chestnut, odoriferous oak, and reeking, fiz
zling ash — the hot juice of the latter, by the way,
being a sovereign antidote for the ear-ache. These
were laid in huge piles, all alive with sap, on the tall,
gaunt andirons. You might have thought you heard
John Rogers and his family at the stake, by their plain
tive simmerings. The building of a fire was a real
architectural achievement, favored by the wide yawn
ing fireplace, and was always begun by daybreak.
There was first a back-log, from fifteen to four and
twenty inches in diameter and five feet long, imbed
ded in the ashes ; then came a top log ; then a fore
stick ; then a middle stick, and then a heap of kin
dlings, reaching from the bowels down to the bottom.
A-top of all was a pyramid of smaller fragments, art
fully adjusted, with spaces for the blaze.
Friction matches had not then been sent from the

68 LETTERS — BIOGEAPHICAL,
regions of brimstone, to enable every boy or beggar to
carry a conflagration in his pocket. If there were no
coals left from the last night's fire, and none to be
borrowed from the neighbors, resort was had to flint,
steel, and tinder-box. Often, when the flint was dull,
and the steel soft, and the tinder damp, the striking of
fire was a task requiring both energy and patience.
If the edifice on the andirons was skilfully construct
ed, the spark being applied, there was soon a furious
stinging smoke, which Silliman told the world some
years after, consisted mainly of pyroligneous acid.
Nevertheless, in utter ignorance of this philosophical
fact, the forked flame soon began to lick the sweat
ing sticks above, and by the time the family had
arisen, and assembled in the " keeping room," there
was a roaring blaze, which defied even the bitter
blasts of winter — and which, by the way, found abun
dant admittance through the crannies of the doors
and windows. To feed the family fire in those days,
during the severe season, was fully one man's work.
But to go on with our household history. Sugar
was partially supplied by our maple-trees. These
were tapped in March, the sap being collected, and
boiled down in the woods. This was wholly a do
mestic operation, and one in which all the children
rejoiced, each taking his privilege of an occasional
sip or dip, from the period of the limpid sap, to the
granulated condiment. Nevertheless, the chief sup.
ply of sugar was from the West Indies.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 69
Rum was largely consumed, but our distilleries had
scarcely begun. A half-pint of it was given as a
matter of course to every day-laborer, more particu
larly in the summer season. In all families, rich or
poor, it was offered to male visitors as an essential
point of hospitality, or even good manners. Wo
men — I beg pardon — ladies, took thei/r schnapps, then
named "Hopkins' Elixir," which was the most deli
cious and seductive means of getting tipsy that has
been invented. Crying babies were silenced with hot
toddy, then esteemed an infallible remedy for wind
on the stomach. Every man imbibed his morning
dram, and this was esteemed temperance. There is
a story of a preacher about those days, who thus lec
tured his parish : "I say nothing, my beloved breth
ren, against taking a little bitters before breakfast,
and after breakfast, especially if you are used to it.
What I contend against is this dramming, dramming,
dramming, at all hours of the day. There are some
men who take a glass at eleven o'clock in the fore
noon, and at four in the afternoon. I do not pur
pose to contend against old established customs, my
brethren, rendered respectable by time and author
ity ; but this dramming, dramming, is a crying sin in
the land."
However absurd this may seem now, it was not
then very wide of the public sentiment. Huxham's
tincture was largely prescribed by the physicians.
Tansey bitters were esteemed a sort of panacea.

70 LETTERS — BIGGRAPniCAL,
moral as well as physical, for even the morning
prayer went up heavily without it. The place of
Stoughton — ^for this mixture was not then invented
— was supplied by a tuft of tansey which Providence
seemed to place somewhere in every man's garden
or home lot.
As to brandy, I scarcely heard of it, so far as I
can recollect, till I was sixteen years old, and as ap
prentice in a country store, was called upon to sell
it. Cider was the universal table beverage. Cider
brandy and whisky were soon after evoked from
the infernal caldron of evil spirits. I remember, in
my boyhood, to have seen a strange, zigzag tin tube,
denominated a " still," belonging to one of our neigh
bors, converting, drop by drop, certain innocent
liquids into the infernal fire-water. But, in the
days I speak of, French brandy was rather confined
to the houses of the rich, and to the drug shop.
Wine in our country towns was then almost ex
clusively used for the sacrament. I remember to
have heard a story of these days, which is suggestive.
The Rev. Dr. G  of J. . . . had a brother who
had lived some years in France, and was familiar with
the wines of that country. On a certain occasion, he
dined with his clerical brother, who after dinner gave
him a glass of this beverage. The visitor having
tasted it, shrugged his shoulders, aud made wry
faces. " WHere did you get this liquor, brother ?" said he.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 71
" Why it is some that was left over frpm the sacra
ment, and my deacons sent it to me."
"I don't wonder, brother," was the reply, "that
your church is so small, now that I know wh4t wine
you give them."
There was, of course, no baker in Ridgefield ; each
family not only made its own bread, cakes, and pies,
but their own soap, candles, butter, cheese, and the
like. The fabrication of cloth, linen, and woolen
was no less a domestic operation. Cotton — that is,
raw cotton — was then wholly unknown among us at
the North, except as a mere curiosity, produced some
where in the tropics ; but whether it grew on a plant,
or an animal, was not clearly settled in the public
mind. We raised our own flax, rotted it, hackled it,
dressed it, and spun it. The little wheel, turned by
the foot, had its place, and was as familiar as if it
had been a member of the family. How often have
I seen my mother, and my grandmother too, sit down
to it — though this, as I remember, was for the purpose
of spinning some finer kind of thread — the burden of
the spinning being done by a neighbor of ours, Sally
St. John. By the way, she was a good-hearted, cheer-
fal old maid, who petted me beyond my deserts. I
grieve to say, that I repaid her partiality by many
mischievous pranks, for which I should have been
roundly punished, had not the good creature, like
charity, covered a multitude of sins. I did indeed

J2 LBrrEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
get filliped for catching her foot one day in a steel-
trap, but I declare that I was innocent of malice pre
pense, inasmuch as I had set the trap for a rat in
stead of the said Sally. Nevertheless, the verdict
was against me, not wholly because of my misdemea
nor in this particular instance, but partly upon the
general theory that if I did not deserve punishment
for that, I had deserved it, and should deserve it for
something else, and so it was safe to administer it.
The wool was also spun in the family, partly by
my sisters, and partly by Molly Gregory, daughter
of our neighbor, the town carpenter. I remember
her well as she sang and spun aloft in the attic. In
those days, church singing was one of the fine arts —
the only one, indeed, which flourished in Ridgefield,
except the mUsic of the drum and fife. The choir
was divided into four parts, ranged on three sides ol
the meeting-house gallery. The tenor, led by Dea
con Hawley, was in front of the pulpit, the base to
the left, and the treble and counter to the right* —
the whole being set in motion by a pitch-pipe, made
by the deacon himself, who was a cabinet-maker.
Molly took upon herself the entire counter, for she
had excellent lungs. The fuging tunes, which
had then run a little mad, were her delight, and of
all these, Montgomery was the general favorite.
In her solitary operations aloft, I have often heard
* This separation of a choir is seldom pji jtioed now in our ehurohos,
Dut was ia general use at this period.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 73
her send forth from the attic windows, the droning
hum of her wheel, with fitful snatches of a hymn, in
which the base began, the tenor followed, then the
treble, and finally, the counter — winding up with ir
resistible pathos. Molly singing to herself, and all un
conscious of eavesdroppers, carried on all the parts,
thus : Base. " Long for a cooling —
Tenor. " Long for a cooling —
Treble. " Long for a cooling —
Counter, " Long for a cooling stream at hand.
And they must drink or die !"
The knitting of stockings was performed by the
female part of the family in the evening, and espe
cially at tea parties. According to the theory of so
ciety in that golden age, this was a moral as well as
an economical employment, inasmuch as Satan was
held to find " Some mischief still
For idle hands to do."
Satan, however, dodged the question, for if the
hands were occupied, the tongue was loose ; and it
was said that in some families, he kept them well oc
cupied with idle gossip. At all events, pianos, chess
boards, graces, battledoors, and shuttlecocks, with
other safety-valves of the kind, were only known by
the hearing of the ear, as belonging to some such
Vanity Fair as New York or Boston.
Vol. I.— 4

74 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
The weaving of cloth — linen, as well as woolen —
was performed by an itinerant workman, who came
to the house, put up his loom, and threw his shuttle,
till the season's work was done. The linen was
bleached, and made up by the family ; the woolen
cloth was sent to the fuller to be dyed and dressed.
Twice a year, that is, in the spring and autumn, the
tailor came to the house and fabricated the semi
annual stock of clothes for the male members — this
being called "whipping the cat."
Mantuamakers and milliners came in their turn, to
fit out the female members of the family. There
was a similar process as to boots and shoes. We
sent the hides of the cattle — cows and calves we had
killed — to the tanner, and these came back in assorted
leather. Occasionally a little morocco, then wholly
a foreign manufacture, was bought at the store, and
made up for the ladies' best shoes. Amby Benedict,
the circulating shoemaker, upon due notice, came
with his bench, lapstone, and awls, and converted
some little room into a shop, till the household was
duly shod. He was a merry fellow, and threw in
lots of singing gratis. He played all the popular
airs upon his lapstone — as hurdygurdies and hand-
organs do now.
Carpets were then only known in a few families,
and were confined to the keeping-room and parlor.
They were all home-made : the warp consisting of
woolen yarn, and the woof of lists and old woolen

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 75
cloth, cut into strips, and sewed together at the
ends. Coverlids generally consisted of quilts, made
of pieces of waste calico, elaborately sewed together
in octagons, and quilted in rectangles, giving the
whole a gay and rich appearance. This process
of quilting generally brought together the women of
the neighborhood, married and single, and a great
time they had of it — what with tea, talk, and stitch
ing. In the evening, the beaux were admitted, so
that a quilting was a real festival, not unfrequently
getting young people into entanglements which mat
rimony alone could unravel.
I am here reminded of a sort of communism or so
cialism which prevailed in our rural districts long
before Owen or Fourier was born. If some old Arca
dian of the golden age had written his life, as I now
write mine, I have no doubt that it would have ap
peared that this system existed then and there, and
that these pretended inventors were mere imitators. At
all events, at Ridgefield we used to have " stone bees,"
when all the men of a village or hamlet came togeth
er with their draft cattle, and united to clear some
patch of earth which had been stigmatized by nature
with an undue visitation of stones and rocks. All
this labor was gratuitously rendered, save only that
the proprietor of the land furnished the grog. Such
a meeting was always of course a very social and
sociable affair. When the work was done, gymnas-
tic exercises — such as hopping, wrestling, and foot-

76 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
racing — took place among the athletic young men
My father generally attended these celebrations as a
looker-on. It was indeed the custom for the clergy
of the olden time, to mingle with the people, even
in their labors and their pastimes. For some reason
or other, it seemed that things went better when the
parson gave them his countenance. I followed my
father's example, and attended these cheerful and
beneficial gatherings. Most of the boys of the town
did the same. I may add that, if I may trust the tra
ditions of Ridgefield, the cellar of our new house was
dug by a hee in a single day, and that was Christ
mas. House-raising and barn-raising, the framework be
ing always of wood, were done in the same way by a
neighborly gathering of the people. I remember an
anecdote of a church-raising, which I may as well
relate here. In the eastern part of the State, I think
at Lyme, or Pautipaug, a meeting-house was destroyed
by lightning. After a year or two, the society mus
tered its energies, and raised the frame of another on
the site of the old one. It stood about six months,
and was then blown over.
In due time, another frame was prepared, and the
neighborhood gathered together to raise it. It was now
proposed by Deacon Hart that they should commence
the performances by a prayer and- hymn, it having
been suggested that perhaps the want of these pious
preliminaries on former occasions, had something to

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 77
do with the calamitous results which attended them.
When all was ready, therefore, a prayer was made,
and the chorister of the place deaconed* the first
two lines of the hymn thus :
" If God to build the house deny.
The builders work in vain."
This being sung, the chorister completed the verse
thus, adapting the lines to the occasion :
" Unless the Lord doth shingle it,
It will blow down agiu !"
1 must not fail to give you a portrait of one ot our
village homes — of the middle class — at this era. I
take as .an example that of our neighbor, J  B 
who had been a tailor, but having thriven in his
affairs, and now advanced to the age of some fifty
years, had become a farmer — such a career, by the
way, being common at the time ; for the prudent
mechanic, adding to his house and his lands, as his
necessities and his thrift dictated, usually ended as
the proprietor of an ample house, fifty to a hundred
acres of land, and an ample barn, stocked with half

* Deaconing a hymn or psalm, was adopted on«oocasions when there
was but a single book, or perhaps but one or two books, at hand — a
circumstance more common iifty years ago, when singing-books were
scarce, than at present, when books of all kinds render food for the
mind as cheap and abundant as that for the body. In suoh cases, the
leader of the choir, or the deacon, or some other person, read ". verse,
or perhaps two lines of a hymn, which being sung, other stanzas wero
read, and then sung in the same way.

78 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
a dozen cows, one or two horses, a flock of sheep, and
a general assortment of poultry.
The home of this, our neighbor B  , was situ
ated on the road leading to Salem, there being a wide
space in front occupied by the wood-pile, which in
these days was not only a matter of great importance,
but of formidable bulk. The size of the wood-pile
was indeed in some sort an index to the rank and
condition of the proprietor. The house itself was a
low edifice, forty feet long, and of two stories in
front; the rear being what was called a hrealAack,
that is, sloping down to a height of ten feet ; this low
part furnishing a shelter for garden tools, and various
household instruments. The whole was constructed
of wood ; the outside being of the dun complexion
assumed by unpainted wood, exposed to the weather
for twenty or thirty years, save only that the roof
was tinged of a reddish-brown by a fine moss that
found sustenance in the chestnut shingles.
To the left was the garden, which in the produc
tive season was a wilderness of onions, squashes, cu
cumbers, beets, parsnips, and currants, with the never-
failing tansey for bitters, horseradish for seasoning,
and fennel for keeping old women aAvake in church
time. A sprig of fennel was in fact the theological
smelling-bottle of the tender sex, and not unfre
quently of the men, who, from long sitting in the
sanctuary — after a week of labor in the field — ^found
themselves too strongly tempted to visit the forbidden

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 79
land of Nod — would sometimes borrow a sprig of
fennel, and exorcise the fiend that threatened their
spiritual welfare.
The interior of the house presented a parlor with
plain, whitewashed walls, a home-made carpet upon
the floor, calico curtains at the window, and a mirror
three feet by two against the side, with a mahogany
frame : to these must be added eight chairs and a
cherry table, of the manufacture of Deacon Hawley.
The keeping or sitting room had also a carpet, a
dozen rush-bottom chairs, a table, &c. The kitchen
was large — fully twenty feet square, with a fireplace
six feet wide and four feet deep. On one side, it
looked out upon the garden, the squashes and cu
cumbers climbing up and forming festoons over the
door ; on the other a view was presented of the or
chard, embracing first a circle of peaches, pears, and
plums, and beyond, a wide-spread clover field, embow
ered with apple-trees. Just by, was the well, with its
tall sweep, the old oaken bucket dangling from the
pole. The kitchen was in fact the most comfortable
room in the house ; cool in summer, and perfumed
with the breath of the garden and the orchard : in
winter, with its roaring blaze of hickory, it was a
cosy resort, defying the bitterest blasts of the season.
Here the whole family assembled at meals, save only
when the presence of company made it proper to
serve tea in the parlor.
The chambers were all without carpets, and the

80 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
furniture was generally of a simple character. The
beds, however, were of ample size, and well filled
with geese feathers, these being deemed essential for
comfortable people. I must say, by the way, that
every decent family had its flock of geese, of course,
which was picked thrice a year, despite the noisy re
monstrances of both goose and gander. The sheets
of the bed, though of home-made linen, were as white
as the driven snow. Indeed, the beds of this era
showed that sleep was a luxury, well understood and
duly cherished by all classes. The cellar, extending
under the whole house, was a vast receptacle, and by
no means the least important part of the establish
ment. In the autumn, it was supplied with three
barrels of beef and as many of pork, twenty barrels of
cider, with numerous bins of potatoes, turnips, beets,
carrots, and cabbages. The garret, which was of
huge dimensions, at the same time displayed a laby
rinth of dried pumpkins, peaches, and apples — hung
in festoons upon the rafters, amid bunches of summer
savory, boneset, fennel, and other herbs — the floor
being occupied by heaps of wool, flax, tow, and the
like. The barn corresponded to the house. It was a low
brown structure, having abundance of sheds built on
to it, without the least regard to symmetry. I need
not say it was well stocked with hay, oats, rye, and
buckwheat. Six cows, one or two horses, three dozen
sheep, and an ample supply of poultry, including two

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 8]
or three broods of turkeys, constituted its living
tenants. The farm I need hot describe in detail, but the
orchard must not be overlooked. This consisted of
three acres, covered, as I have said, with apple-trees,
yielding abundantly — as well for the cider-mill as for
the table, including the indispensable winter apple
sauce — according to their kinds. In the spring, an
apple orchard is one of the most beautiful objects
in the world. No tree or shrub presents a bloom
at once so gorgeous, and so fragrant. Ju.st at this
time it is the paradise of the bees and the birds — the
former filling the air with their gentle murmurs, and
the latter celebrating their nuptials with all the frolic
and fun of a universal jubilee. How often have
I ventured into Uncle Josey's ample orchard at this
joyous season, and stood entranced among the robins,
blackbirds, woodpeckers, bluebirds, jays, and orioles,
— all seeming to me like playmates, racing, cha
sing, singing, rollicking, in the exuberance of their
joy, or perchance slyly pursuing their courtships, or
even more slyly building their nests, and rearing
their young.
The inmates of the house I need not describe, fur
ther than to say that Uncle Josey himself was a little
deaf, and of moderate capacity, yet he lived to good
account, for he reared a large family, and was gath
ered to his fathers at a good old age, leaving be
hind him a handsome estate, a fair name, and a safe

82 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
example. His wife, who spent her early life at ser
vice in a kitchen, was a handsome, lively, efficient
woman, mother of a large and prosperous family, and
a universal favorite in the neighborhood. She is
still living in a green old age, with several genera
tions of descendants, who call down blessings on her
name. This is the homely picture of a Ridgefield farmer's
home, half a century ago. There were other estab
lishments more extensive and more sumptuous in the
town, as there were others also of an inferior grade.
Yet this was a fair sample of the houses, barns, and
farms of the middle class — the majority of the peo
ple. Since then the times have changed, as I shall
hereafter show : the general standard of living has in
all things improved ; but still the same elements of
thrift, economy, piety, prudence, and progress are
visible on every side. Uncle Josey's house is still
standing ; its exterior shows no coat of paint, but
the interior displays Kidderminster carpets — made at
Enfield or Lowell — mahogany bureaus, gilt looking-
glasses, and a small well-filled mahogany book-case.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 83

LETTER VII.
Domestic Habits of ihe People — Meals — Servants and Masters— Dress —
Amusements — Festivals- — Marriages — Funerals — Dancing — Winter
Sports — Zip and Down — My Two Grandmothers.
Mt Drar 0 ***** *
You will gather from my preceding letter, some
ideas of the household industry and occupations of
country people in Connecticut, at the beginning of
the present century. Their manners, in other re
spects, had a corresponding stamp of homeliness and
simplicity. In most families, the first exercise of the morning
was reading the Bible, followed by a prayer, at which
all were assembled, including the servants and help
ers of the kitchen and the farm. Then came the
breakfast, which was a substantial meal, always in
cluding hot viands, with vegetables, apple-sauce, pick
les, mustard, horseradish, and various other condi
ments. Cider was the common drink for laboring
people; even children drank it at will. Tea was
common, but not so general as now. Coffee was al
most unknown. Dinner was a still more hearty and
varied repast — characterized by abundance of garden
vegetables ; tea was a light supper.
The day began early : breakfast was had at six in
(Summer and seven in winter ; dinner at noon — ^the

84 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
work people in the fields being called to their meals
by a conch-shell, usually winded by some kitchen
Triton. The echoing of this noon-tide horn, from
farm to farm, and over hill and dale, was a species of
music which even rivaled the popular melody of drum
and fife. Tea — the evening meal, usually took place
about sundown. In families where all were laborers,
all sat at table, servants as well as masters — the food
being served before sitting down. In families where
the masters and mistresses did not share the labors of
the household or the farm, the meals of the domes
tics were had separate. There was, however, in those
days a perfectly good understanding and good feeling
between the masters and servants. The latter were
not Irish ; they had not as yet imbibed the pie
beian envy of those above them, which has since so
generally embittered and embarrassed American do
mestic life. The terms democrat and aristocrat had
not got into use : these distinctions, and the feelings
now implied by them, had indeed no existence in
the hearts of the people. Our servants, during all
ray early life, were of the neighborhood, generally
the daughters of respectable farmers and mechanics,
and respecting others, were themselves respected and
cherished. They were devoted to the interests oi
the family, and were always relied upon and treated
as friends. In health, they had the same food ; in
sickness, the same care as the masters and mistresses
or their children. This servitude implied no degra-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 83
dation, because it did not degrade the heart or man
ners of those subjected to it. It was never thought
of as a reproach to a man or woman — in the stations
they afterwards filled— that he or she had been out
to service. If servitude has since become associated
with debasement, it is only because servants them
selves, under the bad guidance of demagogues, have
lowered their calling by low feelings and low man
ners. At the period of my earliest recollections, men of
all classes were dressed in long, broad-tailed coats,
with huge pockets, long waistcoats, and breeches.
Hats had low crowns, with broad brims — some so
wide as to be supported at the sides with cords. The
stockings of the parson, and a few others, were of
silk in summer and worsted in winter ; those of the
people were generally of wool, and blue and gray
mixed. Women dressed in wide bonnets — some
times of straw and sometimes of silk: the gowns
were of silk, muslin, gingham, &c. — generally close
and short-waisted, the breast and shoulders being
covered by a full muslin kerchief. Girls ornamented
themselves with a large white Vandyke. On the
whole, the dress of both men and women has greatly
changed. As to the former, short, snug, close-fitting
garments have succeeded to the loose latitudinarian
coats of former times : stove-pipe hats have followed
broad brims, and pantaloons have taken the place of
breeches. With the other sex — little French bon-

86
nets, set round with glowing flowers, flourish in the
place of the plain, yawning hats of yore ; then it was
as much an effort to make the waists short, as it is
now to make them long. As to the hips, which now
make so formidable a display — it seems to me that
in the days I allude to, ladies had none to speak o£
The amusements were then much the same as at
present — though some striking differences may be -
noted. Books and newspapers — which are now dif
fused even among the country towns, so as to be in the
hands of all, young and old — were then scarce, and
were read respectfully, and as if they were grave mat
ters, demanding thought and attention. They were
not toys and pastimes, taken up every day, and by
everybody, in the short intervals of labor, and then
hastily dismissed, like waste paper. The aged sat
down when they read, and drew forth their specta
cles, and put them deliberately and reverently upon
the nose. These instruments were not as now, little
tortoise-shell hooks, attached to a ribbon, and put off
and on with a jerk ; but they were of silver or steel, sub
stantially made, and calculated to hold on with a firm
and steady grasp, showing the gravity of the uses to
which they were devoted. Even the young ap
proached a book with reverence, and a newspaper
with awe. How the world has changed !
The two great festivals were Thanksgiving and
' training-day" —the latter deriving, from the still lin
gering spirit of the revolutionary war, a decidedly

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, E'rC. 87
martial character. The marching of the troops, and
the discharge of gunpowder, which invariably closed
the exercises, were glorious and inspiring mementoes
of heroic achievements, upon many a bloody field.
The music of the drum and fife resounded on every
side. A match between two rival drummers always
drew an admiring crowd, and was in fact one of the
chief excitements of the great day.
Tavern haunting — especially in winter, when there
was little to do — for manufactures had not then sprung
up to give profitable occupation, during this inclement
season — was common, even with respectable farmers.
Marriages were celebrated in the evening, at the house
of the bride, with a general gathering of the neigh
borhood, and usually wound off by dancing. Every
body went, as to a public exhibition, without invita
tion. Funerals generally drew large processions,
which proceeded to the grave. Here the minister
always made an address, suited to the occasion. If
there was any thing remarkable in the history of the
deceased, it was turned to religious account in the
next Sunday's sermon. Singing meetings, to practice
church music, were a great resource for the young, in
winter. Dances at private houses were common, and
drew no reproaches from the sober people present.
Balls at the taverns were frequented by the young;
the children of deacons and ministers attended, though
the parents did not. The winter brought sleighing,
skating, and the usual round of indoor sports. In

88
general, the intercourse of all classes was kindly and
considerate — no one arrogating superiority, and yet
no one refusing to acknowledge it, where it existed.
You would hardly have noticed that there was a
higher and a lower class. Such there were certainly,
for there must always and everywhere be the strong
and the weak, the wise and the foolish — those of supe
rior and those of inferior intellect, taste, manners, ap
pearance, and character. But in our society, these
existed without being felt as a privilege to one which
must give offence to another. The feuds between Up
and Down, which have since disturbed the whole fab
ric of society, had not then begun.
It may serve, in some degree, to throw light upon
the manners and customs of this period, if I give you
a sketch of my two grandmothers. Both were wid
ows, and were well stricken in years, when they
came to visit us at Ridgefield — about the year 1803
or 4. My grandmother Ely was of the old regime
- — a lady of the old school, and sustaining the char
acter in her upright carriage, her long, tapering
waist, and her high-heeled shoes. The costumes of
Louis XV.'s time had prevailed in New York and
Boston, and even at this period they still lingered
there, in isolated cases, though the Revolution had
generally exercised a transforming influence upon the
toilet of both men and women. It is curious enough
that at this moment — 1855 — the female attire of a
century ago is revived ; and in every black-eyed,

89
stately old lady, dressed in black silk, and showing
her steel-gray hair beneath her cap, I can now see
semblances of this, my maternal grandmother.
My other grandmother was in all things the oppo
site : short, fat, blue-eyed, practical, utilitarian. She
was a good example of the country dame — hearty,
homespun, familiar, full of strong sense and practical
energy. I scarcely know which of the two I liked the
best. The first sang me plaintive songs ; told me sto
ries of the Revolution — her husband, Col. Ely, hav
ing had a large and painful share in its vicissitudes ;
she described Gen. Washington, whom she had seen ;
and the French officers, Lafayette, Rochambeau, and
others, who had been inmates of her house. She told
me tales of even more ancient date, and recited poetry,
generally consisting of ballads, which were suited to
my taste. And all this lore was commended to me
by a voice of inimitable tenderness, and a manner at
once lofty and condescending. My other grandmoth
er was not less kind, but she promoted my happiness
and prosperity in another way. Instead of stories,
she gave me bread and butter: in place of poetry,
she fed me with apple-sauce and pie. Never was
there a more hearty old lady : she had a firm con
viction that children must be fed, and what she be
lieved, she practiced.

90 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,

LETTER VIII.
Interest in Mechamaal Devices — Agriculture — My Parents Design me for
a Carpenter — The Dawn of ihe Age of Invention — Fultcn, dc. — Per
petual Motion— Whittling— Gentlemen — St. Paul, King Alfred, Dark-
iel Webster, &c. — Desire of Improvement, a New England Oliaraeter-
istic — Hunting — The Bow and Arrow— The Fowling-piece — Pigeons^
Anecdote of Pa/rson M ... .—Audubon and Wilson — Tlie Passenger
Pigeon — Sporting Rambles — T'he Blacksnake and Screech-owl — Fishing
^Advantages of Country Life and Country Training.
My- dear Q ***** *
I can recollect with great vividness the interest
I took in the domestic events I have described, and
which circled with the seasons in our household at
this period. I had no great interest in the operations
of the farm. Plowing, hoeing, digging, seemed to
me mere drudgery, imparting no instruction, and af
fording no scope for ingenuity or invention. I had
not yet learned to contemplate agriculture in its eco
nomical aspect, nor had my mind yet risen to that
still higher view of husbandry, which leads to a sci
entific study of the soil and the seasons, and teaches
man to become a kind of second Providence to those
portions ofthe earth which are subjected to his care.
The mechanical operations I have described, as well
as others — especially those of the weaver and carpen
ter, on the contrary, stimulated my curiosity, and ex
cited my emulation. Thus I soon became fairiiliar with
the tools of the latter, and made such windmills,

HISTORICAL,, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 91
kites, and perpetual motions, as to extort the admi
ration of my playmates, and excite the respect of my
parents, so that they seriously meditated putting me
apprentice to a carpenter. Up to the age of fourteen,
I think this was regarded as my manifest destiny. I
certainly took gi-eat delight in mechanical devices,
and became a celebrity on pine shingles with a pen
knife. It was a day of great endeavors among all
inventive geniuses. Fulton was struggling to develop
steam navigation, and other discoverers were thunder
ing at the gates of knowledge, and seeking to unfold
the wonders of art as well as of nature. It was, in fact,
the very threshold of the era of steamboats, railroads,
electric telegraphs, and a thousand other useful dis
coveries, which have since changed the face of the
world. In this age of excitement, perpetual motion
was the great hobby of aspiring mechanics, as it
has been indeed ever since. I pondered and whit
tled intensely on this subject before I was ten years
old. Despairing of reaching my object by mechan
ical means, I attempted to arrive at it by magnetism,
my father having bought me a pair of horse-shoe
magnets in one of his journeys to New Haven. I
should have succeeded, had it not been a principle
in the nature of this curious element, that no sub
stance will instantly intercept the stream of attraction.
I tried to change the poles, and turn the north against
the south ; but there too nature had headed me, and
of course I failed.

92 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
A word, by the way, on the matter of whittling.
This is generally represented as a sort of idle, fidgety,
frivolous use of the penknife, and is set down by amia
ble foreigners and sketchers of American manners as
a peculiar characteristic of our people. No portrait of
an American is deemed complete, whether in the sa
loon or the senate-chamber, at home or on the high
way, unless with penknife and shingle in hand. I
feel not the slightest disposition to resent even this,
among the thousand caricatures that pass for traits
of American life. For my own part, I can testify
that, during my youthful days, I found the pen
knife a source of great amusement and even of in
struction. Many a long winter evening, many a dull,
drizzly day, in spring and summer and autumn — some
times at the kitchen fireside, sometimes in the attic,
amid festoons of dried apples, peaches, and pumpkins ;
sometimes in a cosy nook of the barn ; sometimes in
the shelter of a neighboring stone- wall, thatched over
with wild grape-vines — have I spent in great ecstasy,
making candle-rods, or some other simple article of
household goods, for my mother, or in perfecting
toys for myself and my young friends, or perhaps
in attempts at more ambitious achievements. This
was not mere waste of time, mere idleness and
dissipation. I was amused : that was something.
Some of the pleasantest remembrances of my child
hood carry me back to the scenes I have just indi
cated, when in happy solitude, absorbed in my me-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 93
chanical devices, I still listened to the rain pattering
upon the roof, or the wind roaring down the chimney
¦ — thus enjoying a double bliss — a pleasing occupa
tion, with a conscious delight in my sense of security
from the rage of the elements without.
Nay more — these occupations were instructive:
my mind was stimulated to inquire into the mechan
ical powers, and my hand was educated to mechanical
dexterity. Smile, if you please — but reflect 1 Why
is it, that we in the United States surpass all other
nations, in the excellence of our tools of all kinds ?
Why are our axes, knives, hoes, spades, plows, the
best in the world? Because — in part, at least —
we learn, in early life, this alphabet of mechanics the
oretical and practical — whittling. Nearly every head
and hand is trained to it. We know and feel the_
difference between dull and sharp tools. At ten
years old, we are all epicures in cutting instruments.
This is the beginning, and we go on, as a matter of
course, toward perfection. The inventive head, and
the skillful, executing hand, thus become general,
national, characteristic among us.
I am perfectly aware that some people, in this
country as well as others, despise labor, and espe
cially manual labor, as ungenteel. There are people
in these United States who scoff at New England on
account of this general use of thrifty, productive
industry, among our people as a point of education.
The gentleman, say these refined persons, must not

94 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
work. It is not easy to cite a higher example of a
gentleman — in thought, feeling, and manner — than
St. Paul, and he was a tent-maker : King Alfred was
a gentleman, and he could turn his hand to servile
labor. But let me refer to New England examples.
Daniel Webster was a gentleman, and he began with
the scythe and the plow ; Abbot Lawrence was a
gentleman, and he served through every grade, an
apprenticeship to his profession ; Timothy Dwight
was a gentleman, and was trained to the positive la
bors of the farm '; Franklin, the printer ; Sherman,
the shoemaker ; Ellsworth, the teamster — all were gen
tlemen, and of that high order which regards truth,
honor, manliness, as its essential basis. Nothing, in
my view, is more despicable, nothing more calculated
to diffuse and cherish a debasing effeminacy of body
and soul, than the doctrine that labor is degrading.
Where such ideas prevail, rottenness lies at the foun
dation of society.
But to go back to my theme. If you ask me
why it is that this important institution of whit
tling is indigenous among us, I reply, that, in the
first place, our country is full of a great variety of
woods, suited to carpentry, many of them easily
wrought, and thus inviting boyhood to try its hands
upon them. In the next place, labor is dear, and
therefore even children are led to supply themselves
with toys, or perchance to furnish some of the sim
pler articles of use to the household. This deamess

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 95
of labor, moreover, furnishes a powerful stimulant
to the production of labor-saving machines, and
hence it is — through all these causes, co-operating
one with another — that steam navigation, the elec
tric telegraph, the steam reaper, &c., &c., are Ameri
can inventions : hence it is that, whether it be at the
World's Fair in London or Paris, we gain a greater
proportion of prizes for useful inventions, than any
other people. That is what comes of whittling 1
There is no doubt -another element to be considered
in a close and philosophical view of what I state —
this aptitude of our people, especially those of New
England, for mechanical invention. The desire of
improvement is inherent in the New England char
acter. This springs from two principles: first, a
moral sense, founded upon religious ideas, making
it the duty of every man to seek constantly to be and
do better, day by day, as he advances in life. This
is the great main-spring, set in the heart by Puritan
ism. Its action reaches alike to time and to eternity.
Mr. Webster well illustrated the New England char
acter in this respect, when he describes his father as
" shrinking from no toil, no sacrifice, to serve his
country, and to raise his children to a condition bet
ter than his own." This desire of improvement is
indeed extended to the children, and animates the
bosom of every parent.
The other principle I allude to is liberty, civil
and social — actual and practical. New England is

96 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
probably the only country in the world, where every
man, generally speaking, has or can have the means
¦ — that is, the money, the intelligence, the knowledge,
the power — to choose his career ; to say where he
will live, what profession he will follow, what po
sition he will occupy.
It is this moral sense, in every man's bosom, im
pelling him to seek improvement in all things, co
operating with this liberty, giving him the right
and the ability to seek happiness in his own way
¦ — which forms this universal spirit of improvement
— the distinguishing feature of the New England
people. It is this which has conquered our savage
climate, subdued the forests, and planted the whole
country with smiling towns and villages : it is this
which has established a system of universal educa
tion, cherished religion, promoted literature, founded
benign institutions, perfected our political system,
and abolished negro slavery, imposed upon us by the
mother country.
It is easy to trace the operations of this principle
in the humblest as well as the highest classes. The
man at the plow is not a mere drudge : he is not like
the debased subject of European despotism, a servile
tool, an unthinking, unhoping, unaspiring animal, to
use his muscles, without thought as to the result of
his labor. Let me tell you an anecdote which will
illustrate this matter. Some years ago, a young New
Englander found himself in the back parts of Penn-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 97
sylvania, ashore as to the means of living. In this
strait he applied to a wealthy Quaker in the neigh
borhood for help.
" I will furnish thee with work, and pay thee for
it, friend," said the Quaker ; "but it is not my cus
tom to give alms to one able to labor, like thee."
" Well, that's all I want," said the Yankee : " of
course I am willing to work."
" What can thee do, friend ?"
"Any thing. I will do any thing, to get a little
money, to help me out. of my difficulties."
" Well — there is a log yonder ; and there is an
axe. Thee may pound ou the log with the head of
the axe, and if thee is diligent and faithful, I will pay
thee a dollar a day."
" Agreed : I'd as soon do that as any thing else."
And so the youth went to work, and pounded
lustily with the head of the axe upon the log. After
a time he paused to take breath ; then be began again.
But after half an hour he stopped, threw down the
axe impatiently, and walked away, saying, "I'll be
hanged if I'll cut wood without seeing the chips fly !"
Thus the Yankee laborer has a mind that must be
contented : he looks to the result of his labor ; and if
his tools or implements are imperfect, his first im
pulse is to improve them, and finally to perfect them.
In this endeavor, he is of course aided by the me
chanical aptitude, to which I have already alluded ;
and hence it is, that not only our utensils, for every
Vol. L— S

98 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
species of common work, but our machines generally
for the saving of labor, are thus excellent. With
what painful sympathy have I seen the peasants in
ingenious France and classic Italy sweating and toil
ing with uncouth, unhandy implements, which have
undergone no improvement for a thousand years,
and which abundantly bespeak the despotism which
for that period has kept their minds as well as their
bodies in bondage ! You will not wonder that such
observations have carried me back to my native New
England, and taught me to appreciate the character
and institutions of its people.
I must add, in descending from this lofty digres
sion to my simpler story, that in these early days, I
ivas a Nimrod, a mighty hunter — first with a bow
and arrow, and afterward with the old hereditary
firelock, which snapped six times and went off once.
The smaller kinds of game were abundant. The
thickets teemed with quails ;* partridges drummed in
every wood ; the gray -squirrel — the most picturesque
animal of our forests — enlivened every hickory copse
with his mocking laugh, his lively gambols, and his
long bannered tail. The pigeons in spring and au
tumn migrated in countless flocks, and many lin
gered in our woods for the season.
Everybody was then a hunter, not of course a

* The American quail is a species of partridge, in size between the
European quail and partridge. The partridge of New England is the
pheasant ofthe South, .ind the rvffed grouse of tho naturalists.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 99
sportsman, for the chase was followed more for
profit than for pastime. Game was, in point of fact,
a substantial portion of the supply of food at cer
tain seasons of the year. All were then good shots,
and my father could not be an exception : he was
even beyond his generation in netting pigeons. This
was not deemed a reproach at that time in a clergy
man, nor was he the only parson that indulged in
these occupations. One day, as I was with him on West
Mountain, baiting pigeons, we had seduced a flock of
three or four dozen down into the bed where they
were feeding — my father and myself lying concealed
in our bush-hut, close by. Suddenly, whang went a
gun into the middle of the flock I Out we ran in
great indignation, for at least a dozen of the birds
were bleeding and fluttering before us. Scarcely had
we reached the spot, when we met Parson M . . . . of
Lower Salem, who had thus unwittingly poached
upon us. The two clergymen had first a flurry and
then a good laugh, after which they divided the plun
der and parted.
The stories told by Wilson and Audubon as to the
amazing quantity of pigeons in the West, were real
ized by us in Connecticut half a century ago. I have
seen a stream of these noble birds, pouring at brief
intervals through the skies, from the rising to the
setting sun, and this in the county of Fairfield. I may
here add, that of all the pigeon tribe, this of our coun
try — ^the passenger pigeon — is the swiftest^ and most

100 LETTEES — BIOGEAPniCAL,
beautiful of a swift and beautiful generation. At the
same time it is unquestionably superior to any other
for the table. All the other species of the eastern as
well as the western continent, which I have tasted,
are soft and flavorless in comparison.
I can recollect no sports of my youth which equal
ed in excitement our pigeon hunts, generally ta
king place in September and October. We usually
started on horseback before daylight, and made a
rapid progress to some stubble-field on West Mount
ain. The ride in the keen, fresh air, especially as the
dawn began to break, was delightful. The gradual
encroachment of day upon the night, filled my mind
with sublime images : the waking up of a world from
sleep, the joyousness of birds and beasts in the re
turn of morning, and my own sympathy in this
cheerful and grateful homage of the heart to God,
the Giver of good — all contributed to render these
adventures most impressive upon my young heart.
My memory is still full of the sights and sounds of
those glorious mornings : the silvery whistle of the
wings of migrating flocks of plover — invisible in the
gray mists of dawn ; the faint murmur of the distant
mountain torrents ; the sonorous gong of the long-
trailing flocks of wild geese, seeming to come from
the unseen depths of the skies — these were among the
suggestive sounds that stole through the dim twilight.
As morning advanced, the scene was inconceivably
beautiful — the mountain sides, clothed in autumnal

101
green and purple and gold, rendered more glowing by
the sunrise — with the valleys covered with mists and
spreading out like lakes of silver ; while on every
side the ear was saluted by the mocking screams of
the red-headed woodpecker, the cawing of congresses
of crows, clamorous as if talking to Buncombe ; and
finally the rushing sound of the pigeons, pouring like
a tide over the tops of the trees.
By this time of course our nets were ready, and
our flyers and stool-birds on the alert. What mo
ments of ecstasy were these, and especially when the
head of the flock — some red-breasted old father or
grandfather — caught the sight of our pigeons, and
turning at the call, drew the whole train down into
our net-bed. I have often ' seen a hundred, or two
hundred of these splendid birds, come upon us, with
a noise absolutely deafening, and sweeping the air
with a sudden gust, like the breath of a thunder
cloud. Sometimes our bush-hut, where we lay con
cealed, was covered all over with pigeons, and we
dared not move a finger, as their red, piercing eyes
were upon us. When at last, with a sudden pull of
the rope, the net was sprung, and we went out to
secure our booty — often fifty, and sometimes even a
hundred birds — I felt a fullness of triumph, which
words are wholly inadequate to express 1
Up to the age of eight years, I was never trusted
with a gun. Whenever I went forth as a sportsman on
my own account, it was only with a bow and arrow

102 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
If I failed ih achievement, I made up for it in vivid
feelings and imaginings. The intensity of my per
ceptions on these occasions, are among my most dis
tinct recollections. Every bird that flew, every sound
that trembled in the air, every copse and thicket,
every hill and dale — every thing that my senses real
ized, my memory daguerreotyped. Afterward, when
I arrived at the honors of shot-pouch and powder-
horn, I roamed the country far and wide, over mount
ain and dell, with a similar vivacity of experience.
My performances as a hunter were very moderate.
In truth, I had a rickety old gun, that had belonged
to my grandfather, and though it perhaps had done
good service in the Revolution, or further back in
the times of bears and wolves, it was now very de
crepit, and all around the look seemed to have the
shaking palsy. Occasionally I met with adventures
— half serious and half ludicrous. Once, in running
my hand into a hole in a hollow tree, some twenty
feet from the ground, being in search of a woodpecker,
I hauled out a blacksnake. At another time, in a
similar way, I had my fingers pretty sharply nipped
by a screech-owl. My memory supplies me with
numerous instances of this kind.
As to fishing, I never had a passion for it ; I was
too impatient. I had no enthusiasm for nibbles, and
there were too many of these in proportion to the
bites. I perhaps resembled a man by the name of
Bennett, who jcJined the Shakers of New Canaan

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 103
about these days, but soon left them, declaring that
the Spirit was too long in coming — " he could not
wait." Nevertheless, I dreamed away some pleasant
hours in angling in the brooks and ponds of my na
tive town. I well remember that on my eighth birth
day, I went four miles to Burt's mills, carrying on
the old mare two bushels of rye. While my grist was
grinding, I angled in the pond, and carried home
enough for a geuerous meal.
• Now all these things may seem trifles, yet in a re
view of my life, I deem them of some significance.
This homely familiarity with the more mechanical arts
was a material part of my education ; this commu
nion with nature gave me instructive and important
lessons from nature's open book of knowledge. My
technical education, as will be seen hereafter, was
extremely narrow and irregular. This defect was at
least partially supplied by the commonplace incidents
I have mentioned. The teaching, or rather the train
ing of the senses, in the country-^ — ear and eye, foot
and hand, by running, leaping, climbing over hill and
mountain, by occasional labor in the garden and on
the farm, and by the use of tools — and all this in
youth, is sowing seed which is repaid largely and
readily to the hand of after cultivation, however un
skillful it may be. This is not so much because of
the amount of knowledge available in after-life, which
is thus obtained— though this is not to be despised —
as it is that healthful, vigorous, manly habits and

104 Tetters — ^biographical,
associations — physical, moral, and intellectual — are
thus established and developed.
It is a riddle to many people that the emigrants
from the country into the city, in all ages, outstrip
the natives, and become their masters. The reason
is obvious : country education and country life are
practical, and invigorating to body and mind, and
hence those who are thus qualified triumph in the
race of life. It has always been, it ¦ will always be
so ; the rustic Goths and Yandals will march in and
conquer Rome, in the future, as they have done in
the past. I say this, by no means insisting that my
own life furnishes any very striking proof of the truth
of my remarks ; still, I may say that but for the
country training and experience I have alluded to,
and which served as a foothold for subsequent prog
ress, I should have lingered in my career far behind
the humble advances I have actually made.
Let me illustrate and verify my meaning by spe
cific examples. In my youth I became familiar with
every bird common to the country : I knew his call,
his song, his hue, his food, his habits ; in short, his
natural history. I could detect him by his flight, as
far as the eye could reach. I knew all the quadru
peds — wild as well as tame. I was acquainted with
almost every tree, shrub, bush, and flower, indige
nous to the country ; not botanically, but according
to popular ideas. I recognized them instantly, whera-
ever I saw them ; I knew their forms, hues, leaves,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 105
blossoms, and fruit. I could tell their characteristics,
their uses, the legends and traditions that belonged
to them. All this I learned by familiarity with these
objects ; meeting with them in all my walks and ram
bles, and taking note of them with the emphasis and
vigor of early experience and observation. In after
days, I have never had time to make natural history
a systematic study ; yet my knowledge as to these
things has constantly accumulated, and that without
special effort. When I have traveled in other coun
tries, the birds, the animals, the vegetation, have in
terested me as well by their resemblances as their
differences, when compared with our own. In look
ing over the pages of scientific works on natural his
tory, I have always read with the eagerness and in
telligence of preparation ; indeed, of vivid and pleasing
associations. Every idea I had touching these mat
ters was living and sympathetic, and beckoned other
ideas to it, and these again originated still others.
Thus it is that in the race of a busy life, by means of
a homely, hearty start at the beginning, I have, as
to these subjects, easily and naturally supplied, in
some humble degree, the defects of my irregular edu
cation, and that too, not by a process of repulsive
toil, but with a relish superior to all the seductions
of romance. I am therefore a believer in the benefits
accruing from simple country life and simple coun
try habits, as here illustrated, and am therefore, on
all occasions, anxious to recommend them to my
5*

106 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
friends and countrymen. To city people, I would
say, educate your children, at least partially, in the
country, so as to imbue them with the love of na
ture, and that knowledge and training which spring
from simple rustic sports, exercises, and employ
ments. To country people, I would remark, be not
envious of the city, for in the general balance of
good and evil, you have your full portion ofthe first,
with a diminished share of the last.

LETTER IX.
Death nf Washington — Jefferson and Democracy — Ridgefield on tlie Great
Thoroughfare between New York and Boston — Jei'ome Bonaparte und
Jiis Young Wife — Oliver Wolcott, Governor Treadwell, and Deacon Olnv-
stead — Inauguration of Jefferson — Jerry Mead and Ensign Keeler —
Democracy and Federalism — Charter of Charles II. — Elieur Goodrich,
Deacon Bishop, and President Jefi^ei'son — Abraham Bishop and " About
Enough Democracy.'''
Mt DEAE 0******
The incidents I have just related revolved about
the period of 1800 — some a little earlier and some a
little later. Among the events of general interest
that occurred near this time, I remember the death
of Washington, which took place in 1799, and was
commemorated all through the country by the tolling
of bells, funeral ceremonies, orations, sermons, hymns,
and dirges, attended by a mournful sense of loss,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 107
seeming to cast a pall over the entire heavens. In
Ridgefield, the meeting-house was dressed in black,
and we had a discourse pronounced by a Mr. Ed
monds, of Newtown. The subject, indeed, engrossed
all minds. Lieutenant Smith came every day to our
house to talk over the event, and to bring us the pro
ceedings in different parts of the country. Among
other papers, he brought us a copy of the Connec
ticut Courant, then, as now, orthodox in all good
things, and according to the taste of the times,
duly sprinkled with murders, burglaries, and awful
disclosures in general. This gave us the particu
lars of the rites and ceremonies which took place in
Hartford, in commemoration of the Great Man's de
cease. The paper was bordered with black, which
left its indelible ink in my memory. The celebrated
hymn,* written for the occasion by Theodore Dwight,
sank into my mother's heart — for she had a constitu-

* Htmn sung at Hartford, Conn., during religions services performed
on the occasion of the death of George Washington, Deo. 27th, 1^9.
What solemn sounds the ear invade ?
What wraps the land in sorrow's shade 3
From heaven the awful mandate flics —
The Father of his Country dies.
Let every heart be flU'd with woe,
Let every eye with tears o'erflow ;
Each form, oppress'd with deepest gloom,
Be clad in vestments ofthe tomb.
Behold that venerable band —
The rulers of our mourning laud.
With grief proclaim from shore to shore,
Our guide, our Washington's no more.

108 LETTERS — BIOGEAPHICAL,
tional love of things mournful and poetic — and she
often repeated it, so that it became a part of the cher
ished lore of my childhood. This hymn has ever
since been to me suggestive of a solemn pathos, min
gled with the Ridgefield commemoration of Wash
ington's death — the black drapery of the meeting
house, and the toll of those funeral bells, far, far over
the distant hills, now lost and now remembered, as if
half a dream and half a reality — yet for these reasons,
perhaps, the more suggestive and the more mournful.
I give you these scenes and feelings in some detail,
to impress you with the depth and sincerity of this
mourning of the American nation, in cities and towns,
in villages and hamlets, for the death of Washington.
It seems to me wholesome to go back and sympathize
with those who had stood in his presence, and catch
from them the feeling which should be sacredly cher
ished in all future time.*

o

Where shall our country turn its eye?
What help remains beneath the sky ?
Our Friend, Protector, Strength, aud Trust,
Lies low, and mouldering in the dust.
Almighty God ! to Thee we fly ;
Before Thy throne above the sky.
In deep prostration humbly bow,
And pour the penitential vow.
Hear, 0 Most High ! our earnest prayer —
Our country take beneath Thy care ;
When dangers press and foes draw near,
Let future Washingtons appear.
* Mr. Jofiforson and his s.ntellites had begun their attacks upon
Washington several years before this period ; but beyond the circle of

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 109
I have already said that Ridgefield was on the
great thoroughfare between Boston and New York,
for the day of steamers and railroads had not
interested partisans, and those to whom -lartue is a reproach and glory
an offence, they had not yet corrupted or abused the hearts of the peo
ple. Some years lator, under the presidency of Jefferson and his im
mediate successor, democracy being in the ascendant, Washington
seemed to be fading from the national remembi-ance. Jefferson was
then the master ; and even somewhat later, a distinguished Senator said
in his place in Congress, that his name and his principles exercised a
greater influence over the minds ofthe people of his native State — Vir
ginia — than even the " Father of his Country." Strange to say, this
declaration was made rather in the spirit of triumph than of humiliation.
At thc present day the name of Jefferson has lost much of its charm in
the United States : democracy itself seeims to be taking down its first
idol, and placing Andrew Jackson upon the pedestal Formerly " Jef-
fersr/n Democracy'''' was the party watchword: now it is '¦'¦Jackson De
mocracy.'" The disclosures ofthe last tlility years — made by Mr. Jetfer-
son'sown correspondence, and that of others — show him to have been
very different from what he appeared to be. Had his true character
been fully understood, it is doubtful if he would ever have been Presi
dent of the United States. He was in fact a marvelous compound of
good and evil, and it is not strange that it has taken time to comprehend
him. He was a man of rare intellectual faculties, but he had one defect
¦ — a w.ant of practical controlling faith in God and man — in human truth
and human virtue. He did good things, great things : he aided to con
struct noble institutions, but he undermined them by taking away their
foundations. He was, in most respects, the opposite of Washington,
and hence his hatred of him was no doubt sincere. We may even sup
pose that the virulent abuse which he caused to be heaped upon him by
hireling editors, was at least partially founded upon conviction. Wash
ington believed in God, and made right the starting-point of all his ac
tions. Next to God, was his country. His principles -went before;
there was no expediency for him, that was not dictated by rectitude
of thought, word, .and deed. He was a democrat, but in the English,
Puritan, sense — that of depositing power in the hands of the people,
and of seeking to guide them only by the truth — by instructuig
thera, elevating them, and excmsively for their own good. Jefferson,
on the contrary, was a democrat according to French ideas, and those
of the loosest days of the Eevolution. Expediency was with him the
beginning, the middle, the end of conduct. God seems not to have
been in all his thought. He penetrated the masses with his astute in
telligence : he had seen in Paris how they could be deluded, stimulated,

110 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
dawned. Even the mania for turnpikes, which ere
long overspread New England, had not yet arrived.
The stage-coaches took four days to make the trip
of two hundred miles between the two great cities.
In winter, the journey was often protracted to a
week, and during the furious snow-storms of those
times, to eight or ten days. With such public con-

led, and especially by artful appeals to the baser passions. His party
policy seems to have been founded upon a low estimate of human na
ture in general, and a contempt of the majority in particular. Hence,
in attempting to elevate himself to the chief magistracy of the Union,
nis method was to vilify Washington, and at the same time to pay court
to the foibles, prejudices, and low propensities of the million. Dema
gogism was his system, and never was it more seductively practiced.
Over all there was a profound vail of dissimulation ; a placid philosophy
seemed to sit upon his face, oven while he was secretly urging the as
sassin's blade to the hilt, against the name and fame of him who was
" first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen."
Simplicity and humility appesired to rule in his bosom, while yet he was
steadily paving his way to power. He succeeded, and through the pres
tige of his position, the original democracy of the United States was oast
in his image. He was the father, the founder, the establisher of dema
gogism in this country, and this unmanly and dcb.asing system of pol
icy has since continued to contaminate and debauch the polities of the
land. There is perhaps some growing disgust at this state of things, but
whether we shall ever return to the open, manly, patriotic principles
and practice of Washington, is a question which no man can presume
to answer. At all events, it seems to me, every one who has inflnenee
should sedulously exert it to purify, elevate, and ennoble the public
spirit. As one means, let us ever keep iu view— let us study and cher
ish—the character of Washington. Let our politicians even, do this,
and while they esteem and follow what was really good in Jefferson, let
them beware how they commend his character as an example to those
over whom they exercise a controlling influence.
Power is ennobling, when honorably acquired, and patriotically em
ployed ; but when obtained by intrigue, and used for selflsh ends, it is
degrading alike to him who exercises it and those who are subjected
to its influence. It is quite time that all good men should combine to
put down demagogues and demagogism.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. Ill
veyances, great people — for even then the world
was divided into the great and little, as it is now —
traveled in their own carriages.
About this time — it must have been in the sum
mer of 1804 — I remember Jerome Bonaparte coming
u,p to Keeler's tavern with a coach and four, attend
ed by his young wife, Miss Patterson, of Baltimore.
Tt was a gay establishment, and the honeymoon sat.
happily on the tall, sallow stripling, and his young
bride. You must remember that Napoleon was
then filling the world with his fame: at this mo
ment his feet were on the threshold of the empire.
The arrival of his brother in the United States of
course made a sensation. His marriage, his move
ments, all were gossiped over, from Maine to Georgia
— not Castine to California — these being the extreme
points ofthe Union. His entrance into Ridgefield pro
duced a flutter of excitement, even there. A crowd
gathered around Keeler's tavern, to catch a sight of
the strangers, and I among the rest. I had a good,
long look at Jerome, who was -the chief object of in
terest, and the image never faded from my recollec
tion. Half a century later, I was one evening at the Tuil-
eries, amid the flush and the fair of Louis Napoleon's
new court. Among them I saw an old man, taller than
the mass around — his nose and chin almost meeting
in ijontact, while his toothless gums were " munching
the airy meal of dotage and decrepitude." I was irre-

112 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
sistibly chained to this object, as if a spectre had
risen up through the floor, and stood among the
garish throng. My memory traveled back — back
among the winding labyrinths of years. Suddenly
I found the clue: the stranger was Jerome Bona
parte 1
Ah, what a history lay between the past and pres-
.ent-=-a lapse of nearly fifty years. What a differ
ence between him then and now ! Then he was a
gay and gallant bridegroom ; now, though he had
the title of king, he was throneless and scepterless —
an Invalid Governor of Invalids — the puppet and
pageant of an adventurer, whose power lay in the
mere mao;ic of a name.*

* Jerome Bonaparte, the youngest brother of Napoleon, was born in
1784, and is now (1656) 72 years old. He was educated for the naval
service, and in 1801 had the command of the corvette, L'Epervier. In
this, the same year, he sailed with thc expedition to St. Domingo, com
manded by his brother-in-law. Gen. Leolerc. In March following he
was sent to France with dispatches, but speedily returned. Hostilities
soon after were renewed between France and England, and he sailed on
a cruise for some months, finally putting into the port of New York.
He was treated with marked attention in the principal cities — New York,
Boston, Philadelphia, and Baltimore. In the latter he became attached
to Elizabeth Patterson— daughter of an eminent merchant there — and
distinguislied for her beauty and accomplishments. In December, 1803,
they were married with due ceremony by John Carroll, the Catholic
Bishop of Baltimore, in the presence of several persons of high dis
tinction. He remained about a year in America, and in the spring of
1805 he sailed with his wife for Europe. Napoleon disapproved of the
match, and on the arrival of the vessel at the Texel,- it was found that
orders had been left with the authorities not to permit Jerome's wife to
land. She accordingly sailed for England, and taking up her residence
in the vicinity of London, gave birth to a son, July 7, 1805. This is the
present Jerome Napoleon Bonaparte, of Baltimore.
Napoleon, who had now become emperor, and desired to use his broth-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 113
About this time, as I well remember, Oliver Wol
cott passed through our village. He arrived at the
tavern late on Saturday evening, but he called at our
house in the morning, his family being connected
ers for his own purposes, set himself to work to abrogate the marriage,
and applied to Pope Pius VII. for this purpose. That prelate, however, •
refused, inasmuch as the grounds set forth for such a measure were alto
gether fallacious. Napoleon, however, who was wholly unscrupulous,
forced his brother into another match, August 12, 1807, with the prin
cess Frederica Catherina, daughter ofthe King of Wurtemburg. A few
days after he was proclaimed King of Westphalia, which had been created
into a kingdom for him. He remained in this position till the overthrow
ofthe Bonapartes in 1814. After this he lived sometimes in Austria,
sometimes in Italy, and finally in Paris. He was elected a raember of
the Constitutional Convention of 1848, and was afterwards raade Gov
ernor of the Invalides. When Louis Napoleon became emperor in 1852,
the Palais Eoyal was fitted up. for hira, and he now resides there — his
son. Prince Napoleon, and. his daughter (formerly married to the Eus-
sian Prince Demidoff, but divorced some ten years ago). Princess Mii-
thilde, also having their apartments there.
Jerome Bonaparte has very moderate abilities, and though he is now
considered as nominally in the line of succession after the present em
peror, his position is only that of a pageant, and even this is derived
solely from his being the brother of Napoleon. He is taller by some
inches than was the emperor : he, however, has the bronze complexion,
and something ofthe black, stealthy eye, broad brow, the strong, prom
inent chin, the oval face, and the cold, stony expression, which ohar-
acterized his renowned brother.
Mrs. Patterson has not followed the career of her weak and unprinci
pled husband, but has continued to respect her marriage vow. In 1824,
being in Dublin, I was informed by Lady Morgan, who had recently
seen her in Paris, that the princess Borghcsc (Napoleon's sister Pauline)
had offered to Mrs. Patterson to adopt her son, and make him heir of
her immense possessions, if he would come to Italy, and be placed under
her care : her answer was, that she preferred to have him a respectable
citizen of the United States to any position wealth or power could give
him in Europe. She doubtless judged well and wisely, for the Princess
Borghese has left behind her a most detestable reputation. Jerome Na
poleon Bonaparte,, of Baltimore, has recently been to Paris, where he
has been well received by his father and the emperor; and his son, ed
ucated at West Point, is a captain in the French army in the Crimea,
and has just been decorated with the Cross of the Legion of Honor
(1856).

114r LETTEES — BIOGEAnilCAL,
with ours. He was a great man then ; for not only
are the Wolcotts traditionally and historically a dis
tinguished race in . Connecticut, but he had recently
been a member of Washington's cabinet. I shall
have occasion to speak of him more particularly
* hereafter. I mention him now only for the pur
pose of noting his deference to public opinion, char
acteristic of the eminent men of that day. In the
morning he went to church, but immediately after
the sermon, he had his horses brought up, and pro
ceeded on his way. He, however, had requested my
father to state to his people, at the opening of the
afternoon service, that he was traveling on public
business, and though he regretted it, he was obliged
to continue his journey on the Sabbath. This my
father did, but Deacon Olmstead, the Jeremiah of
the parish, shook his white locks, and lifted up his
voice against such a desecration of the Lord's day
Some years after — as I remember — Lieutenant-gov
ernor Treadwell arrived at Keeler's tavern on Satur
day evening, and prepared to prosecute his journey
the next morning, his daughter, who was with him,
being ill. This same Deacon Olmstead called upon
him, and said, " Sir, if you thus set the example of
a violation of the Sabbath, you must expect to get
one vote less at the next election 1" The Governor
was so much struck by the appearance of the deacon
— who was the very image of a patriarch or a prophet
• — that he deferred his departure till Monday.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 116
Another event of this era I remember, and that
is, the celebration of the inauguration of Jefferson,
March 4th, A. d. 1801. At this period, the Demo
cratic, or, as it was then called, the Republican party,
was not large in Connecticut, yet it was zealous in
proportion to its insignificance. The men of wealth,
the professional men — those of good position and large
influence generally — throughout the State, were almost
exclusively federalists. The old platform of religion
and politics still stood strong, although agitated and
fretted a little by the rising tide of what afterward
swelled into a flood, under the captivating name of
Toleration. The young Hercules in Ridgefield was
in his cradle when Jefferson was made President ; but
nevertheless, he used his lungs lustily'upon the occa
sion. On the day of the inauguration, the old field-
piece, a four-pounder, which had been stuck muzzle
down as a horse-post at Keeler's tavern, since the
fight of 1777, was dug up, swabbed, and fired off
sixteen times, that being the number of States then
in the Union. At first the cannon had a somewhat
stifled and wheezing tone, but this soon grew louder,
and at last the hills re-echoed to the rejoicing of de
mocracy from High Ridge to West Mountain. This
might be taken as prophetic, for the voice of democ
racy, then small and asthmatic, like this old field-
piece, soon cleared its throat, and thundered like
Sinai, giving law to. the land.
My father was a man of calm and liberal temper,

116 LETTEES — BIOGRAPHICAL,
but he was still of the old school, believing in things
as they were, and therefore he regarded these dem
onstrations with a certain degree of horror. But no
doubt he felt increased anxiety from the fact that
several of the members of his congregation partici
pated in these unseemly orgies. Among these — who
would have thought it ? — was Jerry Mead, the shoe
maker, once itinerant, but now settled down, and
keeping his shop. He was one of our near neigh
bors, and the sound of his la.pstone, early and late,
was as regular as the tides. His son Sammy was his
apprentice, and having a turn for mirth and music,
diverted the neighborhood by playing popular airs
as he pounded his leather ; but Jerry himself was
a grave, nay, an austere person, and for this reason,
as well as others, was esteemed a respectability. He
was a man of plain, strong sense ; he went regularly
to meeting ; sent his children to school, and cut their
hair, close and square, according to the creed. It
might have been natural enough for his son Sammy,
who was given to the earthly vanities of music,
dancing, and the like, to have turned out a demo
crat; but for sour, sober, sensible Jerry- -it was quite
another thing. What must have been my father's
concern to find on the occasion of the aforesaid cele
bration that Jerry Mead had joined the rabble, and
— in a moment of exaltation, it is said — delivered an
oration at one of their clubs! This might have
been borne — for Jerry was not then a professor — but

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 117
conceive his emotion when he heard that Ensign Kee
ler — ^the butcher and bell-ringer — who was a half-way
covenant- member of the church, had touched off the
cannon I I am happy to believe that both these per
sons saw the error of their ways, and died old feder
alists, as well as church members in full communion
— notwithstanding these dark episodes; but for the
time, their -conduct seemed to shake the very pillars
ofthe state.
It is dif&cult for the present generation to enter
into the feelings of those days. We who are now
familiar with democracy, can hardly comprehend the
odium attached to it in the age to which I refer, espe
cially in the minds of the sober people of our neigh
borhood. They not only regarded it as, hostile to
good government, but as associated with infidelity in
religion, radicalism in government, and licentious
ness in society. It was considered a sort of monster,
born of Tom Paine,* the French Revolution, foreign

* The French Kevolution reached ita height in 1793, under what was
called the Convention. The king perished on the scaffold in January
of that year, and the queen and the other members of the royal family
soon after. Atheism had taken the place of religion, and government
was a wholesale system of murder. All that was good in society seemed
to have perished. The Keign of Terror was established under Eobcs-
pierre and his Jacobin Associates in 1794. About this time the French
Minister Genet came to the United States, and under his auspices.
Democratic Ghibs, modeled after those in France, which had enabled the
Jacobins to get possession of tho government of France, were organ
ized in the United States. Their object was to place our government
in the hands of the Jacobins here. This was the beginning of demoe-
raoy in this country.
The people of America, grateful to France for her assistance in ob-

118 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
renegadoes, and the great Father of Evil. Mr. Jeffer
son, the founder of the party, had been in France,
and was supposed by his political opponents to have
adopted the atheism and the libertinism of the rev
olutionists. His personal character and dangerous
taining our Independence, naturally sympathized with that nation in ita
attempts to establish a free government. They therefore looked upou
the Eevolution there with favor, amounting at the outset to enthusiasm.
When Genet arrived, not fully appreciating the horrors it was perpetra
ting, many of our people still clung to it with hope, if not with confl
dence. Designing men saw the use they could make of this feeling,
and in order to employ it for the purposes of seizing upon the govern
ment, promoted the democratic clubs, and sought to rouse the feelings
of the masses into a rage resembling that which was deluging Paris
with blood. Some of these leaders were Americans, but the most ac
tive were foreigners, many of them adventurers, and men of desperate
character. One ofthe most prominent was Thomas Paine, whose name
is now synonymous with infamy. He was a fair representative of de
mocracy at this period.
Fortunately for our country and for mankind, Washington was now
President, and by his wisdom, his calmness, and his force of character
and influence, conducted the country through a tempest of disorder
which threatened to overwhelm it. Thus, a second time wiis he the
Saviour of his country. He naturally became the object of hatred to
the democrats, and upon him all the vials of their wrath were poured.
Jefferson, aa ia now known, encouraged, employed, and paid some of
these defamers. It is true that at this time he did not adopt the term
democrat — nor do we believe he shared its spirit to the full extent: he
preferred the term republican, as did his followers, at the outset. Al-
terward they adopted the term democrat, in which they now rejoica.
Of tbe democratic party, Jefferson was, however, the efficient promoter
at the beginning, and may be considered its father and its founder.
From these facts, it will be seen that this dread of him, on the part of the
staid, conservative, Puritan people of New England, was not without
good foundation. See Hildreth'' s History of the United States, second
series, vol. i. pp. 424 and 465 ; also Griswold's Repuilioan Court, p. 290.
As Jefferson was the leader of the democratic party, so Washington
was the head ofthe federalists. Since that period the terms democrat
wxA federalist have undergone many changes of signification, and have
iieen used for various purposes. Democracy is still the watchword of
party, but the term federalism is merely historical, that of whig having
been adopted by tho conservatives.

HISTORICAL, A.NECDOTICAL, ETC.

119

political proclivities, as I have said, were not then well
understood. The greatest fear of him, at this time,
was as to his moral, religious, and social influence.
It was supposed that his worshipers could not be bet
ter than their idol, and it must be confessed that the
democracy of New England in its beginning raked
up and absorbed the chaff of society. It is due to the
truth of history to state that men of blemished reputa
tions, tipplers, persons of irregular tempers, odd peo
ple, those who were constitutionally upsetters,* de-
* I have just stated the historical origin of the two great parties in
the United States. These, though taking their rise from passing events,
had a deeper root. In all countries, where there is liberty of speech
and print, there will be two parties — the Conservati/ves and the Radicals.
These differences arise mainly frora the constitutions of men and their
varying conditions in society. Some are born Destructives and some
Coneiructives. The former constitute the nucleus of the radical party.
They are without property, and therefore make war on property, and
those who possess it. One of this class, u born radical, usually passes
his whole life in this condition, for in his nature he is opposed to accu
mulation. He is characterized by the parable of the rolling-stone which
gathers no moss. The mass ofthe radical party in all countries is made
up of such persons. The born constructive, on the contrary, is for law
and order by instinct as well as reflection. He is industrious, frugal,
acquisitive : he accumulates property, he constructs a fortune, and be
comes in all things conservative.
From these two sources, the great parties in the United States derive
their chief recruits. Most raen of intelligence and reflection, however, are
conservatives in their convictions, because it is by the raaintenance of
order alone that life aud liberty can be preserved. But unhappily intel
ligent men are often destitute of principle ; they sometimes desire to
wield political power, and as this is frequently in the hands of the radi
cals, they play the demagogue, and flatter the masses, to obtain their
votes. Ex-president John Adams said, with great truth, that when a
man, born in the circle of aristocracy, undertakes to play the demagogue,
he generally does it with more art and success than any other person.
When the demagogue has acquired power — when he has attained the
object of hia ambition — he generally takes off the mask, and as he can
how afford it he is henceforth a conservative. This is the history of

120 LETTERS — EIOGRAl'lIICAL,
structives, comeouters, flocked spontaneously, as if by
a kind of instinct, to the banner of democracy, about
the period of Jefferson's first election, and constituted,
for a considerable period afterward, the staple of thc
party. In due time and when they had increased
in numbers, they gradually acquired respectable lead
ers. General King, who became the head of the party
in Ridgefield, was a high-minded, intelligent man;
and so it happened in other places. But still, the
mass in the outset were such as I have described.
It may be conjectured, then, with what concern 'a
sincere and earnest pastor — like my father — saw some
most demagogues in this country. Hence it is that demagogism has not
had the fatal consequences that might have been anticipated. It has
indeed defiled our politics, it has degraded onr manners, and should ba
spurned by every manly bosom ; but yet it has atopped short ofthe de
struction of our government and our institutions.
Demagogism has prevailed to such an extent among us, that a very
large share of the politic.il offiees are now held by demagogues. It
was otherwise at the outset of our government. The people then
east about and selected their best raen : now party managers take the
matter into their own hands, and often select the worat raen for oflS-
ccrs, as none but persons who can be bought and sold would answer
their purpose. Thus, offioe has sunk in respectability. We havc no
longer Washingtons, Ellsworths, Shermans — menof honor to the heart's
core — at the head of affairs, and stamping our manners and our institu
tions with virtue and dignity. Office is so low that our first-class raen
shun it. We have too many inferior men in high places — who, in de
grading their stations, degrade the country. This is wrong: it;s a sin
against reason, comraon sense, patriotism, and prudence. Neverthe
less, there is, despite these adverse circumstances, spread over this vast
country a sober, solid, and virtuous majority — some in one party and
somc in another — who will not permit these evils to destroy our institu
tions. Whoever may rule, there is and will be a preponderance of con
servatism, and this, we trust, will save us. ¦Demoor.acy may rave —
radic.ilisra may foam at the mouth, and these m.ay get the votes and
appropriate tho spoils, but still law and order will prevail, through tho
Bupremacy of reason, rectitude, and religion.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. V21
of the members of his own flock, including others
whom he hoped to gather into the fold, kneeling down
to this Moloch of democracy. Time passed on, and
less than twenty years after, federalism was overturn
ed, and democracy triumphed in Connecticut. The
old time-honored parchment of Charles IL, supposed
to be a sort of eleventh commandment, and firm as
Plymouth Rock, passed away, like a scroll, and a new
constitution was established. What bodings, what
anxieties, were experienced during this long agony
of Conservatism ! And yet society survived. The old
landmarks, though shaken, still remained, and some of
them even derived confidence, if not firmness, from
the agitation. Nay, strange to say, in the succeeding
generation, democracy cast its slough, put on clean
linen, and affected respectability. Many of the sons
of the democrats of 1800, and conceived in its image,
were the leaders of federalism in 1825. Indeed, the
word democracy, which was first used as synonymous
with Jacobinism, has essentially changed its significa
tion, and now means little more than the progressive
party, in opposition to the conservative party.
Such is the cycle of politics, such are the oscilla
tions of progress and conservatism, which, in point
of fact, regulate the great march of society, and spur
it on to constant advances in civilization. These two
forces, if not indispensable to liberty, are always at
tendant upon it; one is centripetal, the other cen
trifugal, and are always in conflict and contending
Vol. I.— 6

122 LETTERS— BIOGRAPHICAL,
against each other. The domination of either would
doubtless lead to abuses ; but the spirit of both,
duly tempered, combines to work out the good of all.
One thing is settled in this country — though democ
racy may seem to rule ; though it may carry the elec
tions and engross the off.ces, it is still obliged to bow
to conservatism, which insists upon the supremacy of
law and order. Democracy may be a good ladder on
which to climb into power, but it is then generally
thrown down, with contempt, by those who have ac
complished their object, and have no further use for it.
I must here note, m due chronological order, an
event which caused no little public emotion. One of
the first, and perhaps the most conspicuous victim
of proscription in Jefferson's time, was my uncle,
Elizur Goodrich, Collector of the port of New Ha
ven — at that time an office of some importance, as
New Haven had then a large West India trade. The
story is thus told by the historian :
" One of the most noticeable of these cases was the removal of
Elizur Goodrich, lately a representative in Congress from Con
necticut, who had resigned his seat to accept the office of Col
lector of New Haven. In his place was appointed Samuel Bish
op, a respectable old man of seventy-seven, but so nearly blind,
that he could hardly write his name, and with no particular
qualifications for the office, or claim to it, except being the fa
ther of one Abraham Bishop, a yonng democrat, a lawyer with
out practice, for whom the appointment was originally intended.
The claims of the younger Bishop consisted in two political
or.<ition9, which he had recently delivered ; one of them by a
Bort of surprise before a literary society of Yale College, an occa-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 123
si in upon which all the dignitaries of the State were collected.
This was a vehement and flippant, but excessively shallow dec
lamation, yet suited to alarm the popular mind, the burden of
it being that by commercial, military, clerical, and legal delu
sions, a monarchy* and aristocracy were just on the point of being
saddled on the country. To this oration, already in print be
fore it had been delivered, .and which was at once distributed as
an electioneering document— the choice of presidential electors
being then about to take place— Noah Webster liad immediately
published a cutting reply, entitled ' A Eod for the Fool's Back.'
The younger Bishop's second oration, delivered at a festival to
celebrate the republican triumph, was a parallel, drawn at great
length, between Jefferson and Jesus Christ— ' The illustrious
chief who, once insulted, now presides over the Union, and Him
who, once insulted, now presides over the universe.' " — Hil-
dretKs Histor]] of the United States, vol. ii. p. 429.
For several reasons, this event caused great excite
ment. The election of Jefferson had been made by
the House of Representatives, after a severe conflict,
which lasted several weeks. The choice was finally
effected by Mr. Jefferson's giving pledges to James
A. Bayard, of Delaware, and some other federal mem
bers, who consequently withdrew their opposition. He
agreed, if elected, to follow certain principles of con
duct, and stipulated, that while, of course, he would fill
* The great alarm-cry ofthe leaders of democracy at this period wa8,
that the federalists sympathized with England and hated France ; that
hence it was clear they were monarchists at heart, and designed to over
throw our republic, and establish a monarchy in its place. Washington
"was openly and repeatedly charged as a traitor, entertaining these views
and purposes. It is now known, as already intimated, that Jeffersoc
encouraged and even paid some ofthe editors who made these charges.
Bee Hildreth, vol. ii. p. 454, &o. Second Series.

124
important confidential offices — as those of the secreta
ries of state and treasury, foreign ministers, &c., with
persons of his own political creed — no removals from
inferior stations, such as ^^ collectors of ports f &c., in
cluding offices of mere detail, generally, should take
place on the ground of opinion. The removal above
alluded to, being in direct violation of this pledge,
caused great indignation.
Hitherto removals of even inferior officers had never
been made because their opinions did not suit the
President, and hence this instance created general
surprise as well as alarm, especially when the cir
cumstances and the motives for the measure were
taken into consideration. The principal citizens of
New Haven, particularly the merchants, felt this as
a severe blow, and accordingly addressed to the Pres
ident a respectful but earnest remonstrance against
the change that had taken place. Mr. Jefferson re
plied in a letter, which has become celebrated, as it
not only displayed, in a remarkable degree, his rhe
torical skill and political tact, but it may be said
to have settled, as a matter of principle in our gov
ernment, that it is within the province of the Presi
dent to make removals from office on mere party
grounds. It is true that this was not largely prac
ticed by Mr. Jefferson, for public opinion seemed not
then to be prepared for it ; but the example he set,
and the skill he manifested in defending this fatal
doctrine, afterward resulted in an open declaration

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 125
by his party, that " to the victors belong the spoils^'' —
and hence the whole arena of politics has been de
graded by infusing into it the selfishness and vio
lence which characterize a battle, where " beauty and
booty" is the watchword.
I may not find a .better place than this for an anec
dote, which shows the tendency of political storms,
like those of nature — by sea and by land — to re
volve in a circle. This Abraham Bishop, just men
tioned, the son of Collector Bishop, grew up a demo
crat, and became an able and skillful stump orator.
He is said to have originated the electioneering apo
thegm — " one doubt loses ten votes I" For several
years he was the Boanerges of the party in Connecti
cut, and always went on a circuit to stir up the democ
racy just previous to the elections. At length he was
appointed Collector of the port of New Haven, with
some five thousand dollars a year. Well : again,
when an election was approaching, he was desired
by the leaders of the party to go forth and wake
up the democracy by a round of speeches. " No,
no," said the Collector with $5000 a year : " I think
we have quite democracy enough, now 1" A few
years later, Mr. Bishop was in the ranks of the
whigs or federalists, and died much respected as a
man of conservative politics, morals, and manners !
In short, my dear C  , though I respect a quiet,
conscientious democrat, as much as I do any other man
— still, when I see a noisy politician crying out, " The

126
democracy I ho, the democracy 1" — I consider it pretty
certain — judging from long experience and observa
tion — that, according to the proverb, " Somebody has
an axe to grind," and desires to wheedle his dupes
into turning the grindstone, gratis.

LETTER X.
How People traveled F'lfty Years ago — Tim/ithy Pickering — Manjiers
along the Road — Jefferson and Shoe-strings — Mr. Priest and Mr. Dem
ocrat — Barbers at Washington — James Madison and the Queue — Wind
ier and Sleighing — Comfortable Meeting-houses — The Stove Party and
the Anti-Stove Party — The first Chaise built in Ridgefield — The Be
ginning ofthe Carriage Maivufacture there.
My DEAR c ******
I have incidentally remarked that about the be
ginning of the present century great people traveled, in
our quarter, not in cars, or steamers, or even in stage ¦
coaches, to any considerable extent, but in their own
carriages. The principal travel was on horseb.ack.
Many of the members of Congress came to Wash
ington in this way. I have a dim recollection of see
ing one day, when I was trudging along to school, a
tall, pale, gaunt man, approaching on horseback with
his plump saddlebags behind him. I looked at him
keenly, and made my obeisance as in duty bound.
He lifted his hat, and bowed in return. By a quick
instinct, I set him down as a man of mark. In the

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 127
evening. Lieutenant Smith came to our house and
told us that Timothy Pickering had passed through
the town 1 He had seen him and talked with him,
and was vastly distended with the portentous news
thereby acquired — including the rise and fall of em
pires for ages to come — and all of which he duly
unfolded to our family circle.
Before I proceed, let me note, in passing, a point
of manners then universal, but which has now nearly
faded away. When travelers met with people on
the highway, both saluted one another with a certain
dignified and formal courtesy. All children were
regularly taught at school to " make their manners"
to strangers ; the boys to bow and the girls to courte
sy. It was something different from the frank, fa
miliar " How are you, stranger ?" of the Far West ;
something different from the " bon jour, serviteur," of
the Alps. These no doubt arise from the natural
sociability of man, and are stimulated into a fash
ion and a tradition by the sparseness of the pop
ulation, for sociability is greatly promoted by isola
tion. Our salute was more measured and formal,
respect to age and authority being evidently an ele
ment of this homage, which was sedulously taught
to the young. Its origin I cannot tell ; perhaps it
came from England with the Puritans, and was a
vestige of that kindly ceremony which always marks
the intercourse of the upper and lov/er classes in a
country where the patrician and plebeian are estab-

128 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
lished by law and public sentiment. Perhaps it be
spoke also something of that reign of authority, which
then regulated society in the affairs of Church and
State. But however this may be, it is certain that for
children to salute travelers was, in my early days, as
well a duty as a decency. A child who did not
" make his manners" to a stranger on the high-road,
was deemed a low fellow ; a stranger who refused to
acknowledge this civility was esteemed a sans ca
lotte — perhaps a favorer of Jacobinism. It may be
remarked that men of the highest rank in those
days were particular in these attentions to children ;
indeed, I may say that the emphasis of a stranger's
courtesy was generally the measure of his station.
I can testify that in my own case, the effect of this
was to impress me strongly with the amiability of
rank which thus condescended to notice a child ; at
the same time, it encouraged children, in some sort,
to imitate high and honorable examples.
The decadence of this good old highway politeness
in Connecticut, began soon after the period of which
I now write. Remember that this was long before
the era of railroads and lightning telegraphs. Of
course it would be idle for boys and girls now-a-days
to undertake to bow and courtesy to locomotives : in
such a process they would run the risk of wringing
their necks and tripping up their heels. But forty
years ago people plodded along at the rate of twc

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 129
to four miles the hour. Everybody had time then to
be polite. It is all changed : aspiring young Amer
ica was then slow, as it is fast now. Since every
thing goes by steam and electricity, tall walking and
tall talking are the vogue. It is easy to comprehend
how this comes about ; but it was even before the
advent of this age of agony, that the good old coun
try custom on the part of the rising generation, to
salute strangers along the road, had waned. It first
subsided into a vulgar nod, half ashamed and half
impudent, and then, like the pendulum of a dying
clock, totally ceased.
Thus passed away the age of politeness. For
some reason or other, it seems to have gone down
with old Hartford Convention Federalism. The
change in manners had no doubt been silently going
on for some time ; but it was not distinctly visible
to common eyes till the establishment of the new
constitution. Powder and queues, cocked-hats and
broad-brims, white-top boots, breeches, and shoe-
buckles — signs and symbols of a generation, a few
examples of which still lingered among us- — -finally
departed with the Charter of Charles IL, while with
the new constitution of 1818, short hair, pantaloons,
and round hats with narrow brims, became the estab
lished costume of men of all classes.
Jefferson was, or affected to be, very simple in his
taste, dress, and manners. He wore pantaloons, in
stead of breeches, and adopted leather shoe strings in
6*

] 30 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
place of buckles. These and other similar things
were praised by his admirers as signs of his democ
racy : a certain coarseness of manners, supposed to
be encouraged by the leaders, passed to the led.
Rudeness and irreverence were at length deemed
democratic, if not democracy.* An anecdote, which
],; strictly historical, will illustrate this.
About this time, there was in the eastern part of
Connecticut a clergyman by the name of Cleveland,
who was noted for his wit. One summer day, as he
was riding along, he came to a brook. Here he
paused to let his horse drink. Just then, a stranger
rode into the stream from the opposite direction,
and his horse began to drink also. The animals ap
proached, as is their wont under such circumstances,
and thus brought the two men face to face.
" How are you, priest ?" said the stranger.
" How are you, democrat?" said the parson.
" How do you know I am a democrat ?" said one.
" How do you know I am a priest ?" said the other.
" I know you to be a priest by your dress," said
the stranger.
" I know you to be a democrat by your address,"
said the parson.
* Jefferson carried his plebeianism so far as to put an end to the social
gatherings of the people at the President's house, called levees. Madi
son, who was a better — that is, a wiser and truer — democrat, saw that
these meetings tended at once to elevation of manners and equalization
of social position, and restored them. Mrs. Madison's levees were not
less brilliant than those of lady Washington, though they were less dig-
aiilcd and relined.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 131
There is an anecdote of a somewhat later date,
which illustrates the same point. In Washington's
time, the manners of the country, among the leading
classes, assumed a good deal of stateliness, and this
was perpetuated by the example of this great man —
great alike from his office, his character, and his
history. This was made the foundation of the charge
against him — so basely urged — that he was at heart a
monarchist. It was but natural that Jefferson should
appear to be, in all things, his opposite. Under his
administration, as I have just said, a great change was
effected in external manners. As was reasonable, the
democrats followed the example of their leader, now
chief magistrate of the nation, while among the old
federalists there still lingered vestiges of the waning
costume of other days.
A very keen observer, then and long afterward a
senator of the United States, once told me that at
this period, all the barbers of Washington were fed
eralists, and he imputed it to the fact that the leaders
of that party in Congress wore powder and long
queues, and of course had them dressed every day
by the barber. The democrats, on the contrary, wore
short hair, or, at least, small queues, tied up carelessly
with a ribbon, and therefore gave little encouragement
to the tonsorial- art. One day, as the narrator told
me, while he was being shaved by the leading barber
of the city — who was of course a federalist — the lat
ter suddenly and vehemently burst out against the

132 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
nomination of Madison for the presidency by the
democratic party, which had that morning been an
nounced. " Dear me !" said the barber, " surely this coun
try is doomed to disgrace and shame. What Presi
dents we might have, sir ! Just look at Daggett of
Connecticut and Stockton of New Jersey 1 What
queues they have got, sir — as big as your wrist, and
powdered every day, sir, like real gentlemen as they
are. Such men, sir, would confer dignity upon the
chief magistracy ; but this little Jim Madison, with a
queue no bigger than a pipe-stem ! Sir, it is enough
to make a man forswear his country !" .
But I must return to locomotion — not railing but
wheeling. In Ridgefield, in the year 1800, there
was but a single chaise, and that belonged to Col
onel Bradley, one of the principal citizens of the
place. It was without a top, and had a pair ol
wide-spreading, asinine ears. That multitudinous
generation of traveling vehicles, so universal and so
convenient now — such as top-wagons, four-wheeled
chaises, tilburies, dearborns, &c., was totally un
known. Even if these things had been invented,
the roads would scarcely have permitted the use of
them. Physicians who had occasion to go from town
to town, went on horseback ; all clergymen, except
perhaps Bishop Seabury, who rode in a coach, trav
eled in the same way. My father's people, who lived
at a distance, came to church on horseback — their

133
wives and daughters being seated on pillions behind
them. In a few cases — as in spring-time, when the
mud had no soundings — the farm wagon was used
for transporting the family.
In winter it was otherwise, for we had three or four
months of sleighing. Then the whole country was
a railroad, and gay times we had. Oh ! those beau
tiful winters, which would drive me shivering to the
fireside now : what vivid delight have I had in
your slidings and skatings, your sleddings and sleigh-
ings I One thing strikes me now with wonder, and
that is, the general indifference, in those days, to the
intensity of winter. No doubt, as I have said before,
the climate was then more severe ; but be that as it
may, people seemed to suffer less from it than at the
present day. Nobody thought of staying at home
from church because of the extremity of the weather.
We had no thermometers, it is true, to frighten us
with the revelation that it was twenty-five degrees
below zero. The habits of the people were simple
and hardy, and there were few defences against the
assaults of the seasons. The houses were not tight ;
we had no stoves, no Lehigh or Lackawanna coal ;
yet we lived, and comfortably too ; nay, we even
changed burly winter into a season of enjoyment.
Let me tell you a story, by the way, upon the
meeting-houses of those days. They were of wood,
and slenderly built, of course admitting somewhat
freely the blasts of the seasons. In the severe win-

134 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
ter days, we only mitigated the temperature by foot-
stoves ; but these were deemed effeminate luxuries,
suited to women and children. What would have
been thought of Deacon Olmstead and Granther Bald
win, had they yielded to the weakness of a foot-stove !
The age of comfortable meeting-houses and
churches, in county towns, was subsequent to this,
some twenty or thirty years. All improvement is
gradual, and frequently advances only by conflict
with prejudice, and victory over opposition. In a
certain county town within my knowledge, the intro
duction of stoves into the meeting-house, about the
year 1880, threatened to overturn society. The inci
dent may be worth detailing, for trifles often throw
light upon important subjects.
In this case, the metropolis, which we will call
H . . ., had adopted stoves in the churches, and nat
urally enough some people of the neighboring town
of E .... set about introducing this custom into the
meeting-house in their own village. Now, the two
master-spirits of society — the Demon of Progress and
the Angel of Conservatism — somehow or other had
got into the place, and as soon as this reform was sug
gested, they began to wrestle with the people, until
at last the church and society were divided into two
violent factions — the Stove Party and the Anti-stove
Party. At the head of the first was Mrs. Deacon
K . . . . and at the head of the latter was Mrs. Deacon
P  The battle raged portentously, very much

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL,- ETC. 135
like the renowned tempest in a teapot. Society was
indeed lashed into a foam. The minister, between
the contending factions, scarcely dared to say his soul
was his own. He could scarcely find a text from
" Genesis to Jude," that might not commit him on one
side or the other. The strife — of course — ran into
politics, and the representative to the assembly got
in by a happy knack at dodging the question in such
wise as to be claimed by both parties.
' Finally, the progressionists prevailed — the stove
party triumphed, and the stoves were accordingly
installed. Great was the humiliation of the anti-
stoveites ; nevertheless, they concluded to be submis
sive to the dispensations of Providence. On the
Sabbath succeeding the installation of the stoves, Mrs.
Deacon P  , instead of staying away, did .as she
ought, and went to church. As she moved up the
broad aisle, it was remarked that she looked pale but
calm, as a martyr should, conscious of injury, yet
struggling to forgive. Nevertheless, when the min
ister named his text — Romans xii. 20— and spoke
about heaping coals of fire on the head — she slid
from her seat, and subsided gently upon the floor.
The train of ideas suggested was, in fact, too much
for her heated brain and shattered nerves. Sud
denly there was a rush to the pew, and the fainting
lady was taken out. When she came to the air, she
slightly revived.
" Pray what is the matter ?" said Mrs. Deacon

136 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
K . . . ., who bent over her, holding a smelling-bottle
to her nose.
" Oh, it is the heat of those awful stoves," said
Mrs. Deacon P . . . .
"No, no, my dear," said Mrs. Deacon K  ;
"that can't be: it's a warm day, you know, and
there's no fire in them."
" No fire in the stoves ?" said Mrs. Deacon P 
" Not a particle," said Mrs. Deacon K . . . .
" Well, I feel better now," said the poor lady ; and
so bidding her friends good-by, she went home, in a
manner suited to the occasion.
I have said that in the year 1800 there was but a
single chaise in Ridgefield, and this was brought,
I believe, from New Haven. There was not, I im
agine,, a coach, or any kind of pleasure vehicle — that
crazy old chaise excepted — in the county of Fairfield,
out of the two half-shire towns. Such things, in
deed, were known at New York, Boston, and Phila
delphia — for already the government had laid a tax
upon pleasure conveyances ; but they were compar
atively few in number, and were mostly imported.
In 1798, there was but one public hack in New Ha
ven, and but one coach ; the latter belonging to Pier-
point Edwards, being a large four-wheeled vehicle, for
two persons, called a chariot. In the smaller towns,
there were no pleasure vehicles in use throughout New
England. What an Old Fogy the world was then I
About that time, there came to our village a man

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 137
by the name of Jesse J. Skellinger, an Englishman,
and chaisemaker by trade. My father engaged him
to build him a chaise. A bench was set up in our
barn, and certain trees of oak and ash were cut in
our neighboring woods. These were sawed and sea
soned, and shaped into wheels and shafts. Eben.
Hawley, half blacksmith and half wheelwright, was
duly initiated, and he cunningly wrought the iron
necessary for the work. In five months the chaise
was finished, with a standing top — greatly to the ad
miration of our family. What a gaze was there, my
countrymen, as this vehicle went through -Ridgefield-
street upon its first expedition I
This was the beginning of the chaise manufactory
in Ridgefield, which has since been a source of large
revenue to the town. Skellinger was engaged by
Elijah Hawley, who had formerly done something as
a wagon-builder, and thus in due time an establish
ment was founded, which for many years was noted
for the beauty and excellence of its pleasure vehicles.
The origin of local and special kinds of industry
is often hidden in mystery. It would be difficult to
tell who began the manufactory of needles at Red-
ditch, ribbons at St. Etienne, or watches at Geneva ;
but it is certain that our chaise, built in our barn,
was the commencement of the Ridgefield carriage
manufactory, which greatly flourished for a time, and
gave rise to other branches of mechanical industry,
which still contribute to the prosperity of the place.

138 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,

LETTER XI.
Up-Umn and Down-town — East End and West End — Master Stebbins— A
Model Schoolmaster — The School-'house — Administration of the School —
Zeek Sanford — School-iooks — Arithmetic — History — Grammar — Anec
dote of G.... H.  — Country Schools of New England in tliese Days
— Master Stebbvns's Scholars.
My dear 0 ***** *
Ridgefield, as well as most other places, had its
Up-town and Down-town — terms which have not
unfrequently been the occasion of serious divisions
in the affairs of Church and State. In London this
distinction takes the name of West End and the City.
The French philosophers say that every great cap
ital has similar divisions — West End being always
the residence of the aristocracy and East End of the
canaille. They affirm that it is not only so in fact as
to London, Paris, Vienna, and other capitals of the
present day, but that it was so in Rome, Athens,
Babylon, and Nineveh of old. This they explain by
a general law, pervading all countries and all ages,
which establishes a current of air from west to east,
thus ventilating and purifying the one, and charging
the other with the fuliginous vapors of a crowded
population. Hence, they say that not only cities
must have their West End and East End, but that
houses should be built on the same principle — the
parlor to the west and the kitchen to the east. This

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 139
is surely laying deep the foundations of the patrician
and plebeian divisions of society.
Whether our great American cities furnish any
support to this ingenious theory, I leave to be deter
mined by the philosophers. I shall only venture ta
remark that Ridgefield, being a village, had a right
to follow its own whim, and therefore West Lane,
instead of being the aristocratic end of the place,
was really rather the low end. It constituted in fact
what was called Down-town, in distinction from the
more eastern and northern section, called Up-town.
In this latter portion, and about the middle of the
main street, was the Up-town school, the leading
seminary of the village, for at this period it had
not arrived at the honors of an academy. At the
age of ten years I was sent here, the institution be
ing then, and many years after, under the charge of
Master Stebbins. He was a man with a conciliating
stoop in the shoulders, a long body, short legs, and
a swaying walk. He was, at this period, some fifty
years old, his hair being thin and silvery, and always
falling in well-combed rolls, over hi.= coat-collar. His
eye was blue, and his dress invariably of the same
color. Breeches and knee-buckles, blue-mixed stock-
int^s, and shoes with bright buckles, seemed as much
a part of the man as his head and shoulders. On
the whole, his appearance was that of the middle-
class gentleman of the olden time, and he was in
fact what he seemed.

140 LETTERS^BIOGRAPHIOAL,
This seminary of learning for the rising aristocracy
of Ridgefield was a wooden edifice, thirty by twenty
feet, covered with brown clapboards, and except an
entry, consisted of a single room. Around, and
against the walls ran a continuous line of seats, front
ed by a continuous writing-desk. Beneath, were
depositories for books and writing materials. The
center was occupied by slab seats, similar to those
of West Lane. The larger scholars were ranged on
the outer sides, at the desks ; the smaller fry of
a-b-c-darians were seated in the center. The master
was enshrined on the east side of the room, contrary,
be it remembered, to the law of the French savans,
which places dominion invariably in the west. Reg
ular as the sun. Master Stebbins was in his seat at
nine o'clock, and the performances of the school
began. According to the Catechism — which, by the way,
we learned and recited on Saturday — the chief end of
man was to glorify God and keep his commandments :
according to the routine of this school, one would
have thought it to be reading, writing, and arithme
tic, to which we may add spelling. From morning
to night, in all weathers, through every season of the
year, these exercises were carried on with the energy,
patience, and perseverance of a manufactory.
Master Stebbins respected his calling: his heart
was in his work ; and so, what he pretended to teach,
he taught well. When I entered the school, I found

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 141
that a huge stride had been achieved in the march of
mind since I had left West Lane. Webster's Spelling-
book had taken the place of Dilworth, which was a
great improvement. The drill in spelling was very
thorough, and applied every day to the whole school.
I imagine that the exercises might have been amusing
to a stranger, especially as one scholar would some
times go off in a voice as grum as that of a bull-frog,
while another would follow in tones as fine and pi
ping as a peet-weet. The blunders, too, were often
ineffably ludicrous ; even we children would some
times have tittered, had not such an enormity been
certain to have brought out the birch. As to rewards
and punishments, the system was this : whoever miss
ed went down ; so that perfection mounted to the top.
Here was the beginning of the up and down of life.
Reading was performed in classes, which generally
plodded on without a hint from the master. Never
theless, when Zeek Sanford* — who was said to have
a stteak of lightning in him — in his haste to be smart.

* Ezekiel Sanford was a sou of Colonel Benjamin Sanford, of Reading.
The latter married a daughter of Col. David Olmstead, of Kidgefleld, a
man of great respectability : after residing a few years here, he removed
to Onondaga county. New York, and thence to Philadelphia, and after
ward to Germantown, where he died about thirty years ago.
Ezekiel, our schoolmate, was a lad of great spirit and excellent ca
pacity. He was educated at Yale College, and was there noted as a
promising writer. Ho subsequently became editor of the Eclectic Maga
zine at Philadelphia, and in 1819, published a History of theUnited States
before the Revolution, with some account of the Aborigines. Having stud
ied law, he removed to Columbia, South Carolina, where he died about
the year 1825.

142 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
read the 37th verse of the 2d chapter of the Act^ — -
" Now when they heard this, they were pickled in
their heart" — the birch stick on Master Stebbins's ta
ble seemed to quiver and peel at the little end, as if
to give warning of the wrath to come. When Orry
Keeler — Orry was a girl, you know, and not a boy
— drawled out in spelling: k — o — n, Icon, s — h — u — n
— t — s, shunts, konshunts — the bristles in the master's
eyebrows fidgeted like Aunt Delight's knitting-nee
dles. Occasionally, when the reading was insupport
ably bad, he took a book and read himself, as an
example. We were taught arithmetic in Daboll, then a new
book, and which, being adapted to our measures of
length, weight, and currency, was a prodigious leap
over the head of poor old Dilworth, whose rules and
examples were modeled upon English customs. In
consequence of the general use of Dilworth in our
schools, for perhaps a century — pounds, shillings, and
pence were classical, and dollars and cents vulgar, fiar
several succeeding generations. "I would not give a
penny for it," was genteel ; " I would not give a
cent for it," was plebeian. We have not yet got over
this : we sometimes say red cent in familiar parlance,
but it can hardly be put in print without offense.
Master Stebbins was a great man with a slate and
pencil, and I have an idea that we were a generation
after his own heart. We certainly achieved wonders
according to our own conceptions, some of us going

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 143
even beyond the Rule of Three, and making forays
into the mysterious region of Vulgar Fractions.
Several daring geniuses actually entered and took
possession. But after all, penmanship was Master Stebbins's
great accomplishment. He had no magniloquent
system ; no pompous lessons upon single lines and
bifid lines, and the like. The revelations of in
spired copy-book makers had not then been vouch
safed to man. He could not cut an American eagle
with a single flourish of a goose-quill. He was gui
ded by good taste and native instinct, and wrote a
smooth round hand, like copper-plate. His lessons
from A to &, all written by himself, consisted of pithy
proverbs and useful moral lessons. On every page
of our writing-books he wrote the first line himself
The effect was what might have been expected — with
such models, patiently enforced, nearly all became
good writers.
Sey ond these simple elements, the Up-town school
made few pretensions. When I was there, two Web
ster's Gramrhars and one or two Dwight's Geographies
were in use. The latter was without maps or illustra
tions, and was in fact little more than an expanded ta
ble of contents, taken from Morse's Universal Geogra
phy — the mammoth monument of American learning
aud genius of that age and generation. The grammar
was a clever book ; but I have an idea that neither
Master Stebbins nor his pupils ever fathomed its

144 LETTERS  BIOGRAPmCAL,
depths. They floundered about in it, as if in a
quagmire, and after some time carne out pretty nearly
where they went in, though perhaps a little obfus
cated by the dim and dusky atmosphere of these
labyrinths. The fact undoubtedly is, that the art of teaching,
as now understood, beyond the simplest elements,
was neither known nor deemed necessary in our
country schools in their day of small things. Repe
tition, drilling, line upon line, and precept upon pre
cept, with here and there a little of the birch — con
stituted the entire system.
James G. Carter had not then begun the series ol
publications, which laid the foundation of the great
movement in school education, which afterward per
vaded New England. " Bring up a child in the way
in which he should go," was the principle ; the prac
tice regarded this way as straight and narrow —
somewhat like a gun-barrel — and the scholar as a
bullet, who was to go ahead, whether he had to
encounter a pine board or an oak knot. In climb
ing up the steep ascent to knowledge, he was expect
ed to rely upon his own genius ; a kindly, helping
hand along the rough and dubious passages, was rare
ly extended to him. " Do this!" said the master, with
his eye bent on the ferule, and generally the pupil
did it, if the matter related to the simpler school

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 145
exercises. But when you came to grammar— that
was quite another thing.
Let me here repeat an anecdote, which I have in
deed told before, but which I had from the lips of its
hero, G . . . H . . ., a clergyman of some note thirty
years ago, and which well illustrates this part of my
story. At a village school, not many miles from
Ridgefield, he was put into Webster's Grammar. 'Here
he read, "J. noun is tlie name ofa tiling — as horse, hair,
justice." Now, in his innocence, he read it thus : " A
noun is the name ofa thing — as horse-hair justice." -
" What then," said he, ruminating deeply, " is a
noun ? But first I must find out what a horse-hair
justice is."
Upon this he meditated for some days, but still
he was as far as ever from the solution. Now his
father was a man of authority in those parts, and
moreover he was a justice of the peace. Withal, he
was of respectable ancestry, and so there had de
scended to him a somewhat stately high-backed settee,
covered with horse-hair. One day, as the youth came
from school, pondering upon the great grammatical
problem, he entered the front door of the house, and
there he saw before him, his father, officiating in his
legal capacity, and seated upon the old horse-hair
settee. " I have found it !" said the boy to himself,
as greatly delighted as was Archimedes when he ex ¦
claimed Eureka — " my father is a horse-hair justice,
and therefore a noun I"
Vol. I.— 7

146 Nevertheless, it must be admitted that the world
got on remarkably well in spite of this narrowness
of the country schools. The elements of an Eng
lish education were pretty well taught throughout
the village seminaries of Connecticut, and I may
add, of New England. The teachers were heartily
devoted to their profession : they respected their call
ing, and were respected and encouraged by the com
munity. They had this merit, that while they at
tempted but little, that, at least, was thoroughly per
formed. As to the country at large, it was a day of quiet,
though earnest action : Franklin's spirit was the great
"schoolmaster abroad" — teaching industry, persever
ance, fi:ugality, and thrift, as the end and aim of am
bition. The education of youth was suited to what
was expected of them. With the simple lessons of
the country schools, they moved the world imme
diately around them. Though I can recollect only a
single case — that already alluded to of Ezekiel San
ford — in which one of Master Stebbins's scholars at
tained any degree of literary distinction, still, quite a
number of them, with no school learning beyond
what he gave them, rose to a certain degree of emi
nence. His three sons obtained situations in New
York as accountants, and became distinguished in
their career. At one period there were three gradu
ates of his school, who were cashiers of banks iu
that city. My mind adverts now with great satisfac-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 147
tion to several names among the wealthy, honorable,
and still active merchants of the great metropolis,
who were my fellow-students of the Up-town school,
and who there began and completed their education.
I will venture to name another — Rufus H. King,
of Albany, who was my competitor in every study,
and my friend in every play. May I not be permit
ted to add that he has ever been, and still is, my
friend ? As a man, he is precisely what he promised
to be as Master Stebbins's pupil. I know he will ex
cuse me for thus speaking of him in behalf of our
revered old schoolmaster, to whose character and
memory I can inscribe no more worthy monument
than this reference to his pupils.

LETTER XII.
Horsemanship — Big^s Ad-ventures — A Dead Shot — A Race — AcademiceU
Honors — Charles Chatterbox — My Father'' s School — My Exercises in Latin
—Tityre tupatulas, etc. — RanMes—IAterary Aspvrations—My Mother-
Family 'Worship — Standing and Kneeling at Prayer — Anecdotes — 0u7
Philistine Temple.
Mr DEAR 0******
Permit me a few more details as to my school-
day recollections. I went steadily to the Up-town
school for three winters, being occupied during the
summers upon the farm, and in various minor <luties.

148 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
I was a great deal on horseback, often carrying- me.s
sages to the neighboring towns of Reading, Wilton,
Weston, and Lower Salem, for then the post-routes
were few, and the mails, which were weekly, crept like
snails over hill and valley. I became a bold rider at
an early age ; before I was eight years old, I frequently
ventured to put a horse to his speed, and that, too,
without a saddle. A person who has never tried it,
can hardly conceive of the wild delight of riding a
swift horse — when he lays down his ears, tosses his
tail in air, and stretches himself out in a full race.
The change which the creature undergoes, in passing
from an ordinary gait into a run, is felt by the rider
to be a kind of sudden inspiration, which triumphs
like wings over the dull, dragging laws of gravitation.
The intense energy of the beast's movements, the
rush of the air, the swimming backward of lands,
houses, and trees, with the clattering thunder of the
hoofs — all convey to the rider a fierce ecstasy, which,
perhaps, nothing else can give. About this period,
however, I received a lesson, which lasted me a life
time. You must know that Deacon Benedict, one of our
neighbors, had a fellow living with him, named
Abijah. He was an adventurous youth, and more
than once led me into tribulation. I remember that
on one occasion I went with him to shoot a dog that
was said to worry the deacon's sheep. It was night,
and dark as Egypt, but Bige said he could see the

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 149
creature, close to the cow-house, back of the barn.
He banged away, and then jumped over the fence,
to pick up the game. After a time he came back, but
said not a word. Next morning it was found that
he had shot the brindled cow; mistaking a white
spot in her forehead for the dog, he had taken deadly
aim, and put the whole charge into her pate. For
tunately her skull was thick and the shot small, so
the honest creature was only a little cracked. Bige,
however, was terribly scolded by the deacon, who was
ajustice of the peace, and had a deep sense of the
importance of his duties. I came in for a share of
blame, though I was only a looker-on. Bige said
the deacon called me a "parsnip scrimmage," but
more probably it was a particeps cri'minis.
But to proceed. One day I was taking home from
the pasture, a horse that belonged to some clergyman
— I believe Dr. Ripley, of Greensfarms. Just as I came
upon the level ground in front of Jerry Mead's old
house, Bige came up behind me on the deacon's mare — ¦
an ambling brute with a bushy tail and shaggy mane.
As he approached, he gave a chirrup, and my horse, .
half in fright and half in fan, bounded away, like Tam
O'Shanter's mare. Every hair in the creature's tail
and mane stood out, as if spinning with electricity.
Away we went, I holding on as well as I could, for
the animal was round as a barrel. He was no doubt
used to a frolic of this sort, although he belonged to
a D. D., and looked as if he believed in total deprav-

150 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
ity. When he finally broke into a run, he flew like
the wind, at the same time bounding up and down
with a tearing energy, quite frightful to think of
After a short race, he went from under me, and I
came with a terrible shock to the ground.
The breath was knocked out of me for some sec
onds, and as I recovered it with a gasping effort, my
sensations were indescribably agonizing. Greatly
humbled, and sorely bruised, I managed to get home,
where the story of my adventure had preceded me.
I was severely lectured by my parents, which, how
ever, I might have forgotten, had not the concussion
entered into my bones, and made an indelible impres
sion upon my memory, thus perpetuating the whole
some counsel.
When I was about twelve years old, a man by
the name of Sackett was employed to keep a high-
school, or, as it was then called, an Academy. Here
I went irregularly for a few weeks, and at a public
exhibition I remember to have spoken a piece upon a
stage fitted up in the meeting-house, entitled "Charles
Chatterbox." Irad Hawley, Rufus H. King, and Sally
Ingersoll, played Hagar and Ishmael. This was the
substance of my achievements at Sackett's semi
nary. The narrowness of my father's income, and the
needs of a large family, induced him to take half a
dozen pupils to be fitted for college. This he con
tinued for a series of years. Some of his scholars

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 161,
came from New Haven, some from Danbury, and
some from other places. I may remark, in passing,
that a number of these — some of whom are still liv
ing — distinguished themselves in various liberal pur
suits. It might seem natural that I should have
shared in these advantages ; but, in the first place,
my only and elder brother, Charles A. Goodrich —
now widely known by his numerous useful publica
tions — had been destined for the clerical profession,
partly by his own predilection, partly by encourage
ment from a relative, and partly too from an idea
that his somewhat delicate constitution forbade a
more hardy career. To this may doubtless be added
the natural desire of his parents that at least one of
their sons should -follow the honored calling to which
father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had been
devoted. Hence, he was put in training for college.
The expenses to be thus incurred were formidable
enough to my parents, without adding to them, by
attempting any thing of the kind for me. And be
sides, I had manifested no love of study, and evi
dently preferred action to books. Moreover, it must
be remembered that I was regarded as a born carpen
ter, and it would have seemed a tempting of Provi
dence to have set me upon any other career. So,
with perfect content on my part, from the age of
twelve to fourteen, I was chiefly employed in active
services about the house and farm. I could read,
write, and cipher ; this was suffi .lent for my ambi-

. 152 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
tion, and satisfactory to my parents, in view of the
life to which I was apparently destined.
Nevertheless, though my school exercises were
such as 1 have described, I doubtless gathered some
little odds and ends of learning about those days,
beyond the range of my horn-books. I heard a good
deal of conversation from the clergymen who visited
us, and above all, I listened to the long discourses
of Lieutenant Smith upon matters and things in gen
eral. My father, too, had a brother in Congress,
from whom he received letters, documents, and mes
sages, all of which became subjects of discussion. I
remember furthermore, that out of some childish im
itation, I thumbed over Corderius and Erasmus — the
first Latin books, then constantly in the hands of my
father's pupils. I was so accustomed to hear them
recite their lessons in Virgil, that
Tityre tupatulm recubans sui tegmine fagi —
and Arma, arms — virumgue, and the man — cano, I sing —
were as familiar to my ears as hillery, tillery, zaehery
zan, and probably conveyed to my mind about as
much meaning. Even the first lesson in Greek —
.Ev, in — afx^, the beginning — ^v, was — o "kiyng, the Woid —
was also among the cabalistic jingles in my mem
ory. All this may seem nothing as a matter of edu
cation ; still, some years after, while I was an appren-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 153
tice in Hartford, feeling painfully impressed with the
scantiness of my knowledge, I borrowed some Latin
school-books, under the idea of attempting to master
that language. To my delight and surprise, I found
that they seemed familiar to me. Thus encouraged,
I began, and bending steadily over my task at even
ing, when my day's duties were over, I made my way
nearly through the Latin Grammar and the first two
books of Virgil's ^neid. In my poverty of knowl
edge, even these acquisitions became useful to me.
From the age of twelve to fifteen, in the midst of
my activity, I still lived largely upon dreams. Noth
ing could be more ludicrous than the extravagance
of these, except it might be their vividness and seem
ing reality, in contrast to all the probabilities of my
condition. Though generally occupied in the vari
ous tasks assigned me, I still found a good deal of
time to ramble over the country. Whole days I spent
in the long, lonesome lanes that wound between
Ridgefield and Salem ; in the half-cultivated, half-
wooded hills that lay at the foot of West Mountain,
and in the deep recesses of the wild and rugged re
gions beyond. I frequently climbed to the top of
the cliffs and ridges that ¦ rose one above another,
and having gained the crown of the mountain, cast
long and wistful glances over the blue vale that
stretched out for many miles to the westward. I had
always my gun in hand, and though not insensible
to any sport that might fall in my way, I was more
7*

154

LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,

absorbed in the fancies that came thronging to my
imagination. I had a love of solitary and even des
olate scenes : there seemed to be in me an appetite
that found satisfaction in the wild and precipitous
passes of the wilderness. This, after an absence of
a few weeks, would return like hunger and thirst,
and I felt a longing for the places which appeased
it. Thus I became familiar with the whole country
around, and especially with the shaded glens and
gorges of West Mountain. I must add that these
had, besides their native, savage charms, a sort of
fascination from being the residence of a strange wo
man, who had devoted herself to solitude, and was
known under the name of the Hermitess. This per
sonage — whom I shall hereafter describe more partic
ularly — I had occasionally seen in our village, and I
frequently met her as she glided through the forests,
while I was pursuing my mountain rambles. I some
times felt a strange thrill as she passed, but this only
seemed to render the recesses where she dwelt still
more inviting.
Of all the seasons, autumn was to me the most
pleasing. Even late in November, when the leaves
had fallen and were driven about in eddies by the
hollow winds — the tall trees creaking and moaning
aloft — the remote and solitary wilds had their fas
cination. There was in me certainly none of the
misanthropic feeling which made Byron fall in love
with such scenes. Nevertheless, some passages in

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 155
Childe Harold, which appeared a few years after, de
scribed the emotions I then experienced, and gave full
expression to the struggling but imprisoned thoughts
which filled my bosom. It is one of the highest of
fices of the poet to furnish words for the deep, yet
unspoken poetry of the soul. Certainly no language
of mine can express the delight with which I have
read and re-read the following stanza, and which has
ever seemed to me like unsealing a mystic fountain
in my bosom — ^that has since flowed on in a stream
of pleasing associations.
" To sit on rooks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene.
Where things that own not man's dominion dwell.
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been —
To climb the trackless mountain, all unseen.
With the wild flock that never needs a fold-
Alone o'er steeps and pouring falls to lean :
This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold
Converse with nature's charms, and view her stores unroU'd."
I must repeat that however much I was attracted
by these wild and lonesome scenes, and however I
may have felt a tinge of melancholy in my solitary
walks, I had no feeling of unhappiness, no oppressive
sense of isolation, no anxiety, no ennui. It is true
that at such times, there came to me scraps of solemn
poetry from Milton, Young, and Watts, of which my
mother's mind was full, and which she loved to re
peat. These broke in snatches upon my memory, and

156 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
served as lightning-rods to conduct to my lips some
of the burning emotions of my breast. I remember
often to have repeated them, half aloud, while I was
in the woods, though doubtless without having any
very exact- appreciation of their meaning, or the
slightest regard to any fitness of application. I could
not then write a reliable line of sense or grammar ;
still, among my fancies I planned poems, and even
dreamed of literary fame. Such I was in fact to my
own consciousness, while at the same time I was re
garded by all around as a rather thoughtless, though
happy boy, with a genius for whittling.
I have no doubt that I inherited from my mother
a love of the night side of nature — not a love that
begets melancholy, but an appetite that found pleas
ure in the shadows as well as the lights of life and
imagination. Eminently practical as she was — labori
ous, skillful, and successful in the duties which Prov
idence had assigned her, as the head of a large family,
with narrow means — she was still of a poetic tem
perament. Her lively fancy was vividly set forth by
a pair of the finest eyes I have ever seen— dark and
serious, yet tender and sentimental. These bespoke
not only the vigor of her conceptions, but the melan
choly tinge that shaded her imagination. Sometimes
indeed the well of sadness in her heart became full, and
it ran over in tears. These, however, were like spring
.showers — brief in duration, and afterward brighten
ing to all around. She was not the only woman who

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, E'rC. 157
has felt better after a good cry. It was, in fact, a po
etic, not a real sorrow, that thus excited her emotions,
for her prevailing humor abounded in wit and viva
city, not unfrequently taking the hue of playful satire.
Nevertheless, her taste craved the pathetic, the mourn
ful — not as a bitter medicine, but a spicy condiment.
Her favorite poets were King David and Dr. Watts :
she preferred the dirge-like melody of Windham to
all other music. All the songs she sang were minors.
Alas 1 how few are now living to verify this feeble
portrait — among the cloud of witnesses who would
once have testified to the general, though inadequate
resemblance 1
You will gather from what I have said that my
father not only prayed in his family night and morn
ing ; but before breakfast, and immediately after the
household was assembled, he always read a chapter in
the sacred volume. In our family Bible it is record
ed that he thus read that holy book through, in
course, thirteen times, in the space of about five and
twenty years. He was an excellent reader, having a
remarkably clear, frank, hearty voice, so that I was
deeply interested, and thus early became familiar with
almost every portion of the Old and New Testament.
The narrative passages seized most readily upon my
attention, and formed the greater part of my early
knowledge. The direct, simple style of the Bible
entered into my heart, and became for a long time
my standard of taste in literary composition. It cost

158 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
me a real struggle, long afterward, to relish the mag
niloquence of such writers as Johnson, despite the
smack of Latin and Greek in its composition, and the
ponderous force of thought which it conveyed.
The practice of family worship, as I before stated,
was at this time very general in New England. In
Ridgefield, it was not altogether confined to the
strictly religious — to clergymen, deacons, and church
members. It was a custom which decency hardly
allowed to be omitted. . No family was thought to go
on well without it. There is a good story which
well describes this trait of manners.
Somewhere in Vermont, in this golden age, there
was a widow by the name of Bennett. In conse
quence of the death of her husband, the charge of a
large farm and an ample household devolved upon
her. Her husband had been a pious man, and all
things had prospered with him. His widow, alike
from religious feeling and affectionate regard for his
memory, desired that every thing should be conduct
ed as much as possible as it had been during his life
time. Especially did she wish the day to begin and
close with family worship.
Now she had a foreman on the farm by the name
of Ward. He was a good man for work, but faith
had not yet touched his lips, much less his heart. In
vain did the widow, in admitting his merits at the
plow, the scythe, and the flail, still urge him to crown
her wishes by leading in family prayer. For a long

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 159
time the heart of the man was hard, and his ear deaf
to her entreaties. At last, however, wearied with
her importunities, he seemed to change, and to her
great joy, consented to make a trial.
On a bright morning in June — at early sunrise
¦ — the family were all assembled in the parlor, men
and maidens, for their devotions. When all was
ready, Ward, in a low, troubled voice, began. He
had never prayed — or at least not in public — ^but
he had heard many prayers, and possessed a retentive
memory. After getting over the first hesitancy, he
soon became fluent, and taking passages here and
there from the various petitions he had heard — Pres
byterian, Methodist, Universalist, and Episcopalian —
he went on with great eloquence, gradually elevating
his tone and accelerating his delivery. Ere long his
voice grew portentous, and some of the men and
maids, thinking he was suddenly taken either mad
or inspired, stole out on their toes into the kitchen,
where, with gaping mouths, they awaited the result.
The Widow Bennett bore it all for about half an
hour ; but at last, as the precious time was passing
away, she lost patience, and sprang to her feet. Pla
cing herself directly in front of the speaker, she ex
claimed, "Ward, what do you mean?"
As if suddenly relieved from a nightmare, he ex
claimed, " Oh dear, ma'am— I'm much obliged to you
— ^for I couldn't contrive to wind off."
I hope you will not feel that this anecdote par-

160
takes of a license unworthy of these annals, for as
you see, it has an historical foundation, as well as a
practical moral. I regret to leave a doubt in regard
to one of the details, and that is, that I have not been
able to determine whether on this occasion the family
stood up, leaning over the backs of their chairs, or knelt
before the seats. The former was the custom in my
younger days, Puritanism perhaps not having over
come the fear of imitating the soul-endangering prac
tices of prelacy, whether belonging to Mother Church
of England or the Scarlet Lady of Rome. Perhaps,
too, the fatigue of standing was deemed an acceptable
sacrifice : I say fatigue, for in those days, men gifted
in prayer were like the ocean — so deep in spots that it
required a very long line to reach the bottom. Deacon
Cooke, of Danbury, a very sensible and pious man,
by the way, once said that he did not believe the
spirit of prayer could be sustained, on ordinary oc
casions, for more than five minutes at a time. This,
however, was rank heresy then, and was not under
stood or approved till fifty years after. Granther
Baldwin was a better representative of the age I am
speaking of : beginning at the Creation, and coming
down to the Fall, he would go on through Babel,
Babylon, and Balaam, the landing of the Pilgrims,
Braddock's defeat, and the Declaration of Indepen
dence. These things, added to local matters, usually
«.onsumed half an hour at the evening exercises.
After a hard day's work — especially in summer time

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 161
• — it required a strong understanding to endure it.
John Benedict, then paying his addresses to Esther
Baldwin, whom he afterward married, one night fell
asleep over his chair, at prayer-time, and pitching
forward against Granther Baldwin, overturned both
him and his devotions. John barely escaped being
forbidden ever to enter the house again ; indeed, he
stayed away some weeks, and only returned upon
Esther's going after him.
This happened near the beginning of the present
century: some five and twenty years later, kneeling
at family prayers had become common in Connecti
cut. A similar change had also begun in meeting
house worship. At the present time, it is common
for people in Congregational churches even, to kneel
at prayer-time. I am not able to state, authorita
tively, the reason for this change, though I presume,
as just intimated, it has arisen from the gradual wear
ing away of the Puritan prejudice against kneeling.
If ' this be correct, it indicates an important fact,
which is, that sectarian differences, especially those
of mere form, have greatly subsided of late years.
It is in respect to these, that there have been the
most bitter contentions ; the movement here noticed
has, therefore, in all ita bearings, the significance of a
real reform.
It is stated that when the first Congress assembled
at Philadelphia, September, 1774, the members, duly
impressed with the solemnity of the occasion, nat-

162 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
urally desired the aid of religious exercises, and there
fore the appointment of a chaplain was proposed. But
considering that the persons present were of various
creeds, it was feared that they could not unite in the
choice of a clergyman to fulfill the duties of such au
office. The difficulty was, however, happily removed
by Samuel Adams, of Massachusetts, who, although
a rigid Congregationalist, proposed the appointment
of an Episcopahan, and Dr. Duche, a popular preach
er of Philadelphia, was immediately chosen. It must
have been an interesting scene — a minister, bound to
forms, finding extemporaneous' words to suit the oc
casion, and the Quaker, the Presbyterian, the Epis
copalian, and the Rationalist — some kneeling, some
standing, but all praying, and looking to Heaven for
wisdom and counsel, in this hour of doubt, anxiety,
and responsibility. Here is a worthy subject* for thc
pencil of Weir, Powell, Huntington, Healy, Page,
Terry, Rossiter, or some other of our historical paint
ers. Adams and Sherman, the Puritans, standing
erect; Thompson, the Quaker, finding the move
ment of the Spirit in the words of a consecrated
priest ; with Washington, Henry, and other Episco
palians, kneeling, according to their creed, and all
invoking wisdom from above — would make a touch
ing and instructive picture. Its moral would be, that

* I understand that this subject — " The First Prayer in Congress"—
has been painted and engraved, but not in the style salted to a great
national subject.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 163
the greatest minds, in moments of difficulty and dan
ger, acknowledge their dependence upon God, and
feel the necessity of elevating and purifying their
hearts by prayer ; and that the differences of sect,
the distinctions of form, all vanish when emergency
presses upon the consciences of men, and forces them
to a sincere and open avowal of their convictions.
In looking back to this period, and remembering
the impassable gulfs that lay between Christian sects,
it is gratifying to observe what is now witnessed
every Sabbath in our principal cities — -the Episcopa
lian, while maintaining his creed and his forms, still
receiving to his communion-table the Presbyterian,
the Methodist, the Congregationalist, the Unitarian,
the Universalist — -all who profess to be followers of
Christ, while these sectarians exercise a similar char
ity in return. Is not this progress — is not this re
form ? How much is meant by these simple facts —
the communion-table of Christ extended; the heart
of man expanded, purified, ennobled !
I must not pass over another incident in my mem
ory, and having reference to the topic in hand. Un
der the biblical influence of these days, -my father's
scholars built a temple of the Philistines, and when
it was completed within and without, all the children
round about assembled, as did the Gazaites of old.
The edifice was chiefly of boards, slenderiy construct
ed, and reached the height of twelve feet ; neverthe
less, all of us got upon it, according to the 16th

164 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
chapter of Judges. The oldest of the scholars played
Samson. When all was ready, he took hold of the
jnllars of the temple — one with his right hand and
one with his left. " Let me die with the Philistines 1"
said he, and bowing himself, down we came in a heap 1
Strange to say, nobody but Samson was hurt, and he
only in some skin bruises. If you could see him
now — dignified even to solemnity, and seldom conde
scending to any but the gravest matters— you would
scarcely believe the story, even though I write it and
verify it. Nevertheless, if he must have played, he
should have taken the part of Samson, for he is one
of the most gifted men I have ever known.

LETTER XIII.
My Father's Library — Cliildren! s Books — The New England Primer and
Westminster Catechism — Toy Books — Nursery Books — Moral Effect of
these — Hannah More?s Moral Repository — Tlie Shepherd of Salisbury
Plain — 'Visit to Barley-wood — First Idea of the Parley Books — Impres
sions of Big Books and Little Books — A Comparison of the Old Booke
and the N»w. Books for Children and. Youth — A Modern Juvenile Book
store in Broadway.
Sf T DEAR 0 ***** *
You will readily comprehend from what I have
said, that up to the age of ten or twelve years, I
had made little acquaintance with literature. Be
yond my school-books, I had read almost nothing.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 165
My father had a considerable library, but it con
sisted mostly of theology, a great deal of it in Latin,
and in large folios. Into such a forbidding mass, I
never penetrated, save only that I sometimes dipped
into a big volurne, which happened to be in large
print. This was in English, and was, I suspect,
some discussion of Calvin's Five Points ; still it
attracted my attention, and sometimes, especially of
a rainy day, when I could hear the big drops thump
upon the shingles over my head — for the library was
in the second loft, and led by an open stairway to the
attic — I read whole pages of this book aloud, spell
ing out the large words as well as I could. I did not
understand a sentence of it, but I was fascinated with
the fair large type. This circumstance I have never
forgotten, and it should not be overlooked by those
who make books for children, for in this case, I was
but a representative of others of my age.
It is difficult now, in this era of literary affluence,
almost amounting to surfeit, to conceive of the pov
erty of books suited to children in the days of which
I write. Except the New England Primer — the main
contents of which were the Westminster Catechism —
and some rhymes, embellished with hideous cuts of
Adam's Fall, in which "we sinned all;" the apostle and
a cock crowing at his .side, to show that " Peter denies
his Lord and cries ;" Nebuchadnezzar crawling about
like a hog, the bristles sticking out of his back, and the
\[]^Q — I remember none that were in general u.se

166
among my companions. When I was about ten years
old, my father brought from Hartford, Gaffer Ginger,
Goody Two Shoes, and some of the rhymes and jin
gles, now collected under the name of Mother Goose,
— with perhaps a few other toy books of that day.
These were a revelation. Of course I read them, but
I must add with no real relish.
Somewhat later one of my companions lent me a
volume containing the stories of Little Red Riding
Hood, Puss in Boots, Blue Beard, Jack the Giant-
killer, and some other of the tales of horror, com
monly put into the hands of youth, as if for the ex
press purpose of reconciling them to vice and crime.
Some children, no doubt, have a ready appetite for
these monstrosities, but to others they are revolting,
until by repetition and familiarity, the taste is suffi
ciently degraded to relish them. At all events, they
were shocking to me. Even Little Red Riding Hood,
though it seized strongly upon my imagination, ex
cited in me the most painful impressions. I believed
it to be true ; at least it was told with the air of
truth, and I regarded it as a picture of life. I im
agined that what happened to the innocent child of
the cottage, might happen to me and to others. I
recollect, while the impression was fresh in my mind,
that on going to bed, I felt a creeping horror come
over me, as the story recurred to my imagination. As
I dwelt upon it, I soon seemed to see the hideous jaws
of a wolf coming out ofthe bedclothes, and approach-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 167
ing as if to devour me. My disposition was not tim
id, but the reverse ; yet at last I became so excited,
that my mother was obliged to tell me that the story
was a mere fiction.
" It is not true, then ?" said I.
" No," said my mother, " it is not true."
" Why do they tell such falsehoods, then ?" I re
plied. " They are not falsehoods, because they are not
intended to deceive. They are mere tales invented
to amuse children."
" Well, they don't amuse me !"
I do not remember the rest of the conversation :
this general impression, however, remained on my
mind, that children's books were either full of non
sense, like "hie diddle diddle" in Mother Goose, or
full of something very like lies, and those very shock
ing to the mind, like Little Red Riding Hood. From
that time my interest in them was almost wholly lost.
I had read Puss in Boots, but that seemed to me
without meaning, unless it was to teach us that a
Good Genius may cheat, lie, and steal ; in other words,
that in order to show gratitude to a friend, we may
resort to every kind of meanness and fraud. I never
liked cats, and to make one of that race — sly, thiev
ing, and bloodthirsty by instinct — the personification
of virtue, inclined me, so far as the story produced
any moral effect, to hate virtue itself
The story of Blue Beard made a stronger and still

168 ¦ LETTEBS-
more painful impression upon me. Though I knew
it to be a fiction, it was still in some sort a reality to
me. His castle, with its hideous chamber hung with
the ghastly corpses of his murdered wives, was more
a living truth in my imagination, than any fact in
history or geography. In spite of my efforts to cast
it out, it remained with all its horrors — a dreadful
burden upon my mind.
Still worse was the story of Jack the Giant-killer.
He, too, was a good genius, but of course — accord
ing to the taste of this species of composition —
a great liar. One should feel sympathy with such a
gallant little fellow, especially in combating giants
like Blunderbore, whose floor was covered with hu
man skulls, and whose daintiest food consisted of
"men's hearts, seasoned with pepper and vinegar!"
Surely — such is the moral of the tale — we must learn
to forgive, nay, to love and approve, wickedness — -
lying, deception, and murder — when they are em
ployed for good and beneficent purposes 1 At least,
the weak may use any weapons against the strong : -
the little may conspire against the great ; and in such
a contest, all weapons are lawful and laudable.
How far this supper of horrors familiarized my
own mind with violence, and thus defaced that moral
sense, which is common in children — leading them to
prefer the good, the true, and the beautiful, if it be
duly cherished — I cannot venture to say. How far
this potent but wicked logic of example, this argument

169
of action — vividly wrought into the imagination and
the mind — in favor of meanness, deception, and crime,
served to abate the natural love of truth and honor
in my bosom, I do not pretend to conjecture. Doubt
less, I suffered less, because my taste was shocked ;
still, the " evil communications" were in my soul. Had
it not been for the constant teaching of rectitude, by
precept and example, in the conduct of my parents,
I might, to say the least, have been seriously injured.
In looking back, and judging of the matter now, I
believe it would certainly have been so. As it was,
these things were fearful temptations, and I am con
vinced that much of the vice and crime in the world
are to be imputed to these atrocious books put into
the hands of children, and bringing them down, with
more or less efficiency, to their own debased moral
standard. That such tales should be invented and circulated
in a barbarous age, I can easily conceive ; that they
should even be acceptable to the coarse tastes and
rude feelings of society, where all around is a system
of wrong, duplicity, and violence, is not a matter of
surprise. But that they should be put into the hands
of children, and by Christian parents, and that too in
an age of light and refinement — excites in me the
utmost wonder.
Tho common opinion, no doubt, is, that they are
at least amusing ; that at the same time they are too
improbable on the very face to carry with them any
Vol. I.— 8

170 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
moral effect. This is a double mistake. The love
of the horrible, the monstrous, the grotesque, is not
indigenous to the youthful mind — unless it may be
in certain anomalous cases. There are children, as I
have said, who seem to be born with a proclivity to
evil. There are others, who, from the unhappy in
fluence of malign example, seem to show an early
development of debased tastes. But in general the
child revolts at these things, and it is not till it is
broken in by repetition, till it is reconciled by famil
iarity, that it begins to crave them. A child loves
at once a kitten, a chicken, a doll — the innocent sem
blances of itself ; but will usually fiy into a passion
of repugnance at the sight of any thing monstrous in
nature or art.
The idea that familiarity with crime is harmless, is
equally at variance with experience. The Bible is
full of warnings against the deadly effect of bad ideas
communicated by example. Common sense — the first
instinct of reason — tells us not to take children into
scenes of crime and bloodshed, unless we wish to
debase them. There is little difference, as to moral
effect upon children, between things real and things
imaginary. All that is strongly conceived by the
young, is reality to them. The tale of Jack the
Giant-killer in the book, is very much the same as
would be the incidents of the story acted out at the
theater, or the reality performed before the eye. In all
these cases, it fills the mind with evil, and commends

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 171
evil, by inevitable influence. Is it not leading chil
dren into fearful temptation, to put such works as
these into their hands ? It will be understood that 1
am here speaking more particularly of nursery books.
These, from the impressibility of young children, and
from the fact that the judgment is not yet developed
and exercises little control over the mind — produce
a most powerful effect. Yet it is only for such that
the books referred to have been framed, as if, in a
diabolical spirit of mischief at once to deprave the
taste, and degrade the intellect of childhood.
At a somewhat later date — -that is, when I was
about twelve years old— I read Robinson Crusoe,
which greatly delighted me. The work had about a
dozen engravings, in which Crusoe and his man Fri
day were depicted somewhat like two black spiders :
nevertheless, my imagination endued them with
charms equal to those of Heath's Book of Beauty in
after times. About this period, I met with Alphonso
and Dalinda, a translation of one of Madame de
Genlis' Tales of the Castle. I have never seen it
since, but I judge by its effect upon my imagination,
that it must be written with great skill and knowl
edge of the youthful mind. The manner in which
a series of romantic and wonderful incidents are
philosophically explained, seemed to me exceedingly
felicitous, and certainly gave me my first glimpses of
some of the more curious marvels of Natural History
and Natural Philosophy.

172 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
From this point I made my way into works de
signed for adults, and now began to read voyages,
travels, and histories. Thus a new world was within
my reach, though as yet I did not realize it. About
this time I met with Hannah More's Moral Reposi
tory, which, so far as I recollect, was the first work
that I read with real enthusiasm. That I devoured.
The story of the Shepherd of Salisbury Plain was to
me only inferior to the Bible narrative of Joseph and
his brethren. Twenty years after, I enjoyed the
pleasure, I might almost say ecstasy, of passing over
the scene of this inimitable story, and of telling my
experience to the author at Barley-wood. It was in
conversation with that amiable and gifted person, that
I first formed the conception of the Parley Tales —
the general idea of which was to make nursery
books reasonable and truthful, and thus to feed the
young mind upon things wholesome and pure, in
stead of things monstrous, false, and pestilent: that
we should use the same prudence in giving aliment
to the mind and soul, as to the body ; and as we
would not give blood and poison as food for the lat
ter, we should not administer cruelty and violence,
terror and impurity, to the other. In short, that the
elements of nursery books should consist of beauty
instead of deformity, goodness instead of wickedness,
decency instead of vulgarity.
So far as I can recollect, the work just alluded to
first gave me a taste for reading, and awakened my

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 173
mmd to some comprehension of the amazing scope
and power of books. I had heard the Bible read
from beginning to end, and the narrative portions
had attracted my attention and deeply interested
rne. I had heard scraps of poetry and passages of
prose, quoted and recited by my mother and my
sisters older than myself and who had been well
educated, mostly at New Haven. I had heard
abundance of learned conversation among doctors
of divinity and doctors of laws, who, with others,
visited my father's house ; and finally I had heard
the disquisitions, historical, biblical, and philosoph
ical, of our profound and erudite village oracle, Lieu
tenant Smith ; yet I do not recollect to have discov
ered, before this time, that books contained inex
haustible sources of instruction and amusement, and
all within my own reach. I had listened to what I
heard, though often impatiently, and doubtless I had
picked up and pocketed, here and there, an idea.
Such, however, had been the course of my life, or
such was my disposition, or such the books that had
fallen into my hands, that I regarded big books as
tasks, proper for the learned, but not fit for such as
me ; and little books as nonsense, or worse than non
sense, worthy only of contempt or aversion. What
a real blessing would then have been to me the juve
nile works of Mrs. Child, the little histories of Agnes
Strickland, the tales qf Mary Howitt, Mrs. Hoffland,
and other similar works, so familiar to children now.

174 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
As to schoolbooks, those I had used had become
associated in my memory with sitting three hours at
a time upon hard oak benches, my legs all the while
in such a cramped position that I could almost have
kicked my best friend by way of relief
In casting my mind backward over the last thirty
years — and comparing the past with the present, duly
noting the amazing advances made in every thing
which belongs to the comfort, the intelligence, the
luxury of society — there is no point in which these
are more striking than in the books for children and
youth. Let any one who wishes to comprehend this
matter, go to such a juvenile bookstore as that of
C. S. Francis, in Broadway, New York, and behold
the teeming shelves — comprising almost every topic
within the range of human knowledge, treated in a
manner to please the young mind, by the use of every
attraction of style and every art of embellishment —
and let him remember that nineteen twentieths of
these works have come into existence within the last
thirty years. He will then see how differently this
age estimates the importance of juvenile instruction,
from any other that has gone before it.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 175

LETTER Xiy.
The Clergymen of Fairfield County— The Minister's House a Minister's
Tavern— Dr. Ripley, qf Green' s-f aims— Dr. Lewis, of Horseneck—Dr.
Burnett, of Norwalk— Mr. Swan— Mr. Noyes— Mr. Elliott, of Fairfield
—Mr. MitcheU, of New Canaan— A Poet-Deacon^Dr. Blatchford, the
Clairvoyant— Mr. Bartlett, of Reading— Mr. Camp, of Ridgebury— Mr.
Smith, of Stamford — Mr. Waterman, of Bridgeport, e&c.— Manners of
the Clergy of Fairfield County— Their Character- Anecdote of ihe Laugh-
vng D. D. — The Coming Storm.
Mt deae 0******
Before. I complete my narrative, so far as it re
lates to Ridgefield, I should state that in the olden
time a country minister's home was a minister's tav
ern, and therefore I saw, at different periods, most of
the orthodox or Congregational clergymen belonging
to that part of the State, at our house. My father
frequently exchanged with those of the neighboring
towns, and sometimes consociations and associations
were held at Ridgefield. Thus, men of the clerical
profession constituted a large portion of the strangers
who visited us. I may add that my lineage was
highly ministerial from an early period down to my
own time. The pulpit of Durham, filled by my pa
ternal grandfather, continued in the same family one
hundred and twenty-six consecutive years. A short
time since, we reckoned among our relations, not go
ing beyond the degree of second cousin, more than a
dozen ministers of the Gospel, and all of the same
creed.

176 As to the clergy of Fairfield county, my boyish
impressions of them were, that they were of the salt
of the earth — rock-salt, the very crystals of Chris
tianity; nor has a larger experience altered my
opinion. If I sometimes indulge a smile at the rec
ollection of particular traits of character, or more
general points of manners significant of the age, I
still regard them with affection and reverence. Some
of them were grave and portly, especially those who
bore the awe-inspiring title of Doctors of Divinity.
I cannot now recollect among them all a single little
or emaciated D. D. At the very head of the list, in
my imagination, was Dr. Ripley, of Green's-farms, now
Southport, I believe. He was a large and leamed man
— two hundred pounds avoirdupois of solid divinity.
He read the Bible in the original tongues for diver
sion, and digested Hebrew roots as if they had been
buttered parsnips. He was withal a hale, hearty old
gentleman, with a rich, ruddy smile over his face, be
speaking peace within and without. I was once at
his house, which commanded a fine view of Long
Island Sound, and particularly of Compo Bay, which
was near at hand. I remember that he told me about
the landing of the British there, under Tryon, in
April, 1777, on their expedition against Danbury — a
story in which I took deep interest, for I had already
heard a good deal concerning it from Lieut. Smith.
Dr. Lewis, of Horseneck, weighed less according to
the steelyards : he had perhaps less Greek and Latin

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 177
in him, but I have an irhpression that he was a man
even more full of godliness. He was in fact the
patron saint of my young fancy, and his image still
seems before me. He was of the middle size, neither
fat nor lean, stooped a little, and had a thin face with
a long nose. Yet his countenance was the very seat
of kindliness, charity, and sanctity. His thin, white
locks floated down his cheeks and over his shoul
ders in apostolic folds. His voice was soft, yet pene
trating. He had not, I think, any prodigious power
of intellect, but during his preaching every ear was
intent, every heart open. The congregation sometimes
nodded, especially of a hot summer Sunday, even
beneath the thunders of Dr. Ripley ; nay. Deacon
Olmsted himself, enthroned in the deacon's seat, was
obliged now and then to take out his sprig of fennel,
in the very midst of the doctor's twelfthlies and fif-
teenthlies ; but nobody ever slept under the touching
and sympathetic tones of Dr. Lewis. The good man
has long since been translated to another world, but
the perfume of his goodness still lingers amid the
churches which were once impressed with his footsteps.
Among the other clerical celebrities of this period
was Dr. Burnett, of Norwalk — a man of distinguished
ability, but of whom I have only a faint remem
brance. His successor, Mr. Swan, was one of the
most eloquent men of the day. I shall never forget a
certain passage in one of his addresses at an evening
meeting. He had taken as a motto for his discourse
8*

178 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
— " Choose you this day whom ye will serve." Josh.
xxiv. 15. Having pressed upon the audience the
necessity of deciding whether they would serve God
or the Adversary, he adverted to an anecdote in an
cient history, in which an ambassador to some foreign
state — demanding a decision of the government in a
question under discussion — drew a line upon the
earth with his staff, and said, "Tell me — here, this
very hour — now — where will you stand, on this side
or that, for us or against us ? Shall it be peace or shall
it be war ?" Mr. Swan was a tall man, and as he said
this, he seemed to mark the line upon the ground
with a solemn sweep of his long arm. He then add
ed, addressing the audience in tones that thrilled and
awed every heart, " Tell me here, this very hour, now
— where will you stand ? Where will you stand to
night — where at the day of j udgment — on this side
or that — for God or against Him ? Shall it be peace
or war ? peace forever, or war through the measureless
ages of eternity ?" I can recall no eloquence — and
I have heard the most celebrated orators of my time
— which produced a more deep, fearful, and startling
emotion, than this.
There was another minister — the very antipode
of the one I have just described, and yet a great and
good man in his way — great and good in the effect
of his life. His name was Noyes, and he was settled
at Weston. He was a person of moderate intellect,
yet his benignant face and kindly voice suggested to

HISTOEICAL, ANECDO'nCAL, ETC. 179
the imagination that disciple whom Jesus loved. His
whole conduct was but a fulfillment of what his coun
tenance promised. Mr. Elliot, of Fairfield, I do not
recollect personally, but I have heard about his
preaching against the New Lights — the Methodists
and revivalists — who then began to disturb the quiet
of orthodoxy. He asserted that, " as iu nature it is
the mizzling, fizzling rain, and not the overwhelm
ing torrent, that fertilizes the fields, so in religion, it
is the quiet dew of the Holy Spirit that produces the
harvest of souls." I give the story and the words as
I heard them.
Mr. Mitchell, of New Canaan, was a man of ability
and influence, but I remember more of his successors
than of him. There being a vacancy in the parish, the
people tried several candidates — one named Hough,
one named Hyde, &c. ; but none of them suited every
body. At last came Mr. Bonney. " Well," said one
of the deacons as if by inspiration —
" We have now had Hough and Hyde,
Let us take Bonney and ride."
This from the lips of a deacon sounded like proph
ecy, and so Mr. Bonney was duly called and installed.
Mr. Fisher, of Wilton, was of comely and imposing
presence, and withal an able man. As was proper,
he became a D. D. Mr. Dwight, of Greenfield Hill,
was afterward the renowned President of Yale Col
lege. I shall have occasion to speak of him again.

180 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
Mr. Humphries, of Fairfield, became President of
Amherst College, and is now living at Pittsfield, en
joying at the age of seventy-seven, the full vigor of
manhood — with an enviable reputation as a ripe
scholar, an eloquent preacher, a good and great man,
combining the dignity of the divine with the amiable
and attractive qualities of the friend, the citizen, and
the neighbor.
Dr. Blatchford, of Bridgeport, removed early to
Waterford, near Troy, N. Y., and I can only remem
ber to have seen him ; his personal appearance has
vanished from my mind. I recollect, however, that
he had a horror of cats and kittens, and such was its.
intensity as to endue him with clairvoyance, so that
he could easily detect one of these creatures in the
room, though it might be out of sight or even con
fined in a closet. Frequent attempts were made
to deceive him, but without success. His instinct
was infallible. When he was seen coming, the first
thing attended to by my mother was to shut up the
whole purring family, and they were kept under
lock and key till the good doctor had departed. Once
upon a time, while dining with a friend, he suddenly
threw down his knife and fork, his face being pale
with horror.
" What is the matter?" ejaculated his host, in great
excitement. " It is a cat 1" said the doctor, in a hollow voice.
" A cat ?" was the thrilling reply. " Impossible :

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 181
we were particular to shut up the cat and kittens as
soon as you came."
"I say there's a cat in the room !" said the doctor,
with fearful emphasis.
A hurry-scurry ensued, and after a long search, a
kitten was found slumbering in the cradle, under the
clothes, and snugged down beside the baby 1
There were, furthermore, Mr. Bartlett, of Reading,
an animated and learned preacher — now a hale and
hearty man at the age of ninety-two ; Mr. Camp, of
Ridgebury, of a feeble body but powerful mind ; Mr.
Smith, of Stamford, a dignified gentleman of the old
school, and married to the sister of John Cotton
Smith, afterward Governor of the State ; Mr. Water
man, of Bridgeport, author ofa clever Life of Calvin.
From these hasty notes, you will see that the
clergy of that day in Fairfield county were a very
able set of men, and worthy of being duly and hon
orably chronicled in these mementoes of the past.
I speak of the era of 1800, yet including a few sub
sequent years. A half century before, a wig with a
black coat meant D. D. ; and D. D. usually meant
wig and black coat : but that dynasty had passed.
Breeches and white-top boots — white meaning but
ternut color — were, however, still clerical.
These gentlemen whom I have described, traveled
on horseback, and were always well mounted ; some
of them were amateurs in horseflesh: I have al
ready had occasion to notice the points of Dr. Rip-

182 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
ley's beast. In manners they were polite, and some
what assiduous in their stately courtesies. They
spoke with authority, and not as the scribes. Their
preaching was grave in manner, and in matter elab
orately dovetailed with Scripture. The people drank
hard cider, and relished sound doctrine : it was not
till nearly half a century afterward that — imbibing
soda-water, champagne, and other gaseous beverages
— they required pyrotechnics in the pulpit. A soul
to reach heaven must then have the passport of
Saybrook ; and in point of fact, orthodoxy was so
tempered with charity, that nearly all who died, re
ceived it.
If the creed of that day was severe and bespoke
the agonies of its Puritan origin, it still allowed large
range for temporalities and humanities. The minis
ter of the Gospel was a father, neighbor, friend, cit
izen — a man in a large and generous sense. Man
liness meant godliness, and godliness manliness. He
spoke truth, and acted righteousness. He was in
dependent in his circumstances, for a parish settle
ment was like marriage, for better or for worse ; and
what God had joined, man could not lightly put
asunder. The common opinion now is, that the
judges of temporal tribunals should be placed be
yond the seductions of dependence; the people of
those days thought that in matters relating to eter
nity, this rule was at least equally important. The
clergymen were in some sort magistrates — not tech-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 183
nically, but being generally the best educated per
sons — especially in country towns — they exercised a
large influence, as well by the force of authority, tra
ditionally allowed to their positions, as by their su
perior intelligence. They were sometimes consulted
by their parishioners in matters of law* as well as
gospel, often made out deeds, settled disputes be
tween neighbors and neighborhoods, gave advice in
difficult and doubtful questions of business, and im
parted intelligence upon matters of history, geogra
phy, and politics.
I need not tell you that they were counsellors in
religious matters — in the dark and anxious periods
of the spirit — in times of sickness, at the approach
of death. They sanctified the wedding, not refusing
afterward to countenance the festivity which natural
ly ensued. They administered baptism, but only upon
adults who made a profession, or upon the children
of professors. I may add that despite their divinity,
they were sociable in their manners and intercourse.
The state of the Church was no doubt first in their
minds ; but ample room was left for the good things
of life. Those who came to our house examined my
brother in his Greek and Latin, and I went out be-
* Eev. Thomas Hawley, from Northampton, was settled in the first
society in Eidgefield in the year 171i, and was their first pastor, and con
tinued till his death in 1739. He was a man of great frankness and so
ciability, and an excellent scholar. He was very useful to the town, not
only as a minister, but in a civil capacity, serving them as their town-
clerk and. doing all their writing busincss till his decease. — Manuscript
History of Eidgefield, by S. G.

184 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
hind the barn to gather tansey for their morning bit
ters. They dearly loved a joke, and relished anec
dotes, especially if they bore a little hard upon the
cloth. I remember some of them at which I have
heard Dr. Ripley almost crack his sides, and seen
even the saintly Dr. Lewis run over at the eyes with
laughing. Shall I give you a specimen ? The fol
lowing will suffice, though I can not recollect who it
was that told it.
Once upon a time there was a clergyman — the
Rev. Dr. T . . . . of H . . . . — a man of high character,
and distinguished for his dignity of manner. But
it was remarked that frequently as he was ascending
the pulpit stairs he would smile, and sometimes al
most titter, as if beset by an uncontrollable desire to
laugh. This excited remark, and at last scandal
Finally, it was thought necessary for some of his
clerical friends, at a meeting of the association, to
bring up the matter for consideration.
The case was stated — the Rev. Dr. T . . . . being
present. " Well, gentlemen," said he, " the fact
charged against me is true, but I beg you to permit
me to offer an explanation. A few months after I
was licensed to preach, I was in a country town, and
on a Sabbath morning was about to enter upon the
services of the church. Back of the pulpit was a
window, which looked out upon a field of clover, then
in full bloom, for it was summer. As I rose to com
mence the reading of the Scriptures, I cast a glance

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 185
into the field, and there I saw a man performing the
most extraordinary evolutions — jumping, whirling,
slapping in all directions, and with a ferocious agony
of exertion. At first I thought he was mad ; but
suddenly the truth burst upon me — he had buttoned
up a bumblebee in his pantaloons 1 I am constitu
tionally nervous, gentlemen, and the shock of this
scene upon my risible sensibilities was so great, that
I could hardly get through the services. Several
times I was upon the point of bursting into a laugh.
Even to this day, the remembrance of this scene —
through the temptation of the devil — often comes
upon me as I am ascending the pulpit. This, I admit,
is a weakness, but I trust it will rather excite your
sympathy and your prayers than your reproaches."
Such were the orthodox — that is, the Congrega
tional — clergy of Fairfield county, doubtless to some
extent examples of their brethren throughout New
England, at the period of which I speak. The reli
gious platform still stood planked to the State. The
law still gave preference to orthodoxy, as it had done
from the beginning. The time had not yet arrived
when Methodism, Episcopacy, Democracy, should
combine with radicalism to overturn the system which
the fathers had built. The storm was brewing, but
as yet it was scarcely noticed even by those who wero
soon to be overwhelmed by it.

186 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,

LETTER XV.
Ideas qf the Pilgrim Fathers — Progress of Toleration — Episcopacy — Biah
op Seabury — Dr. Duche — Methodism in A-merica — In G(/nnecticut — Aiv-
eedotes — Lorenzo Dow. — The Wolf in my Father's Fold-.
My deab 0******
I have intimated that, at the period of which I
am writing, there was a storm gathering which was
speedily to sweep away the last vestige of that sys
tem of legal and statutory privilege which the Con
gregational clergy had enjoyed in Connecticut, from
the foundation of the colony. The government at
the beginning was a kind of theocracy, in which God
was considered as the active and positive ruler, of
whom the men appointed to office were the agents.
This impression pervaded the minds of the first set
tlers of New England. These were all Independents
in religion, who had been persecuted at home, and
had come here to enjoy their peculiar worship with
out molestation. This was in fact the fundamental
idea of the Puritan Fathers.
It was therefore not only with amazement, but in
dignation, that they found, as the population in
creased, that Quakers, Baptists, and other sectarians,
came among them, and demanded toleration of their
peculiar notions. In vain did they seek to crush out
these disturbers of the public peace. Persecution

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 187
only made them thrive : the trampling heel of op
pression benefited them, as hoeing among weeds ren
ders them more rank and pestiferous— inasmuch as
the roots strike deeper, and the multiplied and invig
orated seed are scattered over a constantiy widening
surface. To the oppressed Puritans in England, toleration
of their peculiar faith was an obvious idea. Their
circumstances suggested it as a right, and denial of it
as a sin. They emigrated to the New World, carry
ing this conviction with them. But universal liberty
of worship was not yet conceived : that was reserved
for those Baptists, Quakers, and others, who, from
their position, had begun to see the light, though it
was even to them but dimly revealed. They sought
rather, each sect for itself, the tolerance of their wor
ship, than general toleration as the right of man.
Roger Williams, indeed, seems to have made this dis
covery, yet at first he advocated it rather in the
spirit of intolerance.
'As time advanced, the malcontents increased, and
although orthodoxy contended at every point, it was
compelled to yield inch by inch, until, at the period
around which my narrative revolves, only a single
remnant of its ancient privileges remained in the stat
ute book of Connecticut. That consisted in a law
which compelled every man, on reaching his major
ity, to pay a tax to the Congregational society in
whose bounds he lived, unless he lodged a certificate

188 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
with its clerk that he belonged to some other reli ¦
gious persuasion.
This became the point of attack, in which all the
dissenting sects in religion, and all the opposers in
politics, united. But the time for this union, as
stated in a preceding letter, had not yet arrived. The
heterogeneous particles were silently moving to their
coalescence and their crystallization, forming in the
end the party which took the watchword of ToLEEA-
Tiojsr, and which gained the ascendency in 1817 ; but
as yet, the keenest sagacity had not seen -the coming
event — which was nevertheless near at hand.
Up to this time — the early part of this century —
orthodoxy seemed, on the surface, to stand almost
unquestioned in Connecticut.* Unitarianism had be
gun in Boston, but had not made any noticeable con-

* After this work was begun and considerably advanced, I happened
to discover in the Historical Library of the Atheneum at Hartford, a
manuscript account of Eidgefield — historical, descriptive, ecclesiastical,
economical, &c. — prepared by my father in 1800, upon a request by the
State authorities. Among other remarks of a general nature, 1 find the
following :
"About the time that Paine's Age of Reason presented itself to view,
like Milton's Description of Death — ' Black it stood as night, fierce as
ten furies, terrible as hell' — the horror of its features disgusted the
people to suoh a degree th.it it has not yet had an advocatein this town."
"There have been, in years past, a number of people who called
themselves Baptists, who showed much zeal in religion, and met in
private houses for worship : at the present day they are much on the
decline." " A few have joined the Methodists, whose preachers, though very
zealous, have made little impression on the minds of the people of this
town." A little after this the Methodists increased in the manner I have
related. " Almost all the people attend public worship with the Congregation-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 189
quests in the land of " steady habits." Methodism-
destined soon to sweep over the State — only glim
mered faintly, as a kind of heat-lightning, in the dis
tant horizon, indicating the electricity that was in the
atmosphere. Universalism, in the form of Restora-
tionism, was doubtless planted in many minds, for the
eloquent and enthusiastic Murray* had been preach
ing in the country. As yet, however, there were few
organized societies of that persuasion — now so numer
ous — in the Union.
Episcopacy had been introduced at an early date.
Indeed, Connecticut had the honor of receiving the

allsts or Episcopalians, and there is and has been, for a long time past,
the titmost harmony and friendship prevailing between the several de
nominations of Christians here. They frequently worship together, and
thus prove the efficacy of that Spirit whose leading characteristic is
charity." * John Murray, the first Universalist minister in Boston, was an Eng
lishman, bom about 1741. He became » preacher, and was at first a
Calvinist, then a Wesleyan, then a follower of Whitfield. Afterward he
went to London, and there plunged into the vortex of dissipation. In
1770, being in a state of poverty, he came to America, where he preach
ed, and by his eloquence soon acquired a high degree of popularity.
At one time (1775) he was chaplain to a regiment in Ehode Island. Af
ter preaching with success in various places, he was settled, in 1785, in
Boston, where he continued tiU his death in 1815. He, as well as Win
chester — a Universalist of great ability, and who, with Hosea Ballou,
may be considered as the founder of modern Universalism in this coun
try — was a Trinitarian ; but his main doctrine was, that, "although sin
ners would rise to the resurrection of damnation, and at the judgment-
day would call on the rocks to hide them from tbe wrath of the Lamb,
yet that after the judgment, the punishment was fulfilled, and the dam
nation ended." He believed that thc devil and his angels only would be
placed at the left hand of Christ, like the goats, and that all mankind
would be placed at his right. Ballou, Balfour, and other Universalists
of the modern sect, maintain that there will bo no judgmant-day and no
future punishment.

190 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
first ordained bishop of the Episcopal Church in
America, thus anticipating even Virginia, to whom
the Church of England was a mother church from
the beginning. This was Bishop Seabury,* who was
consecrated in the year 1784, and established at New
London. I have heard of him a well-authenticated anecdote,
which is very suggestive. On his arrival from Eng
land, whither he had been to acquire his high eccle
siastical honors, there was a general curiosity to see
him and hear him preach, especially in Connecticut—
although the mass of the people, being Congregation -

* Samuel Seabury, D. D., was a native of Groton, Conn., and was born
in 1728. He graduated at Yale College, and then went to Scotland, to
study medicine. He was there, however, ordained, and coming back to
America, was settled at New Brunswick, New Jersey, as the missionary
of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel. Having been stationed
for a time at Jamaica, in the West Indies, he returned, and was settled
at West Chester. Here he wrote and published several pamphlets in
favor of the Crown, and was consequently seized by a party of soldiers,
and for a time imprisoned at New Haven. When New York fell into
the hands of the British, he joined them there, and became chaplain to
Fanning's tory regiment. After the peace, having been elected bishop
by the Episcopal clergy of Connecticut, he went to England, and applied
to th'o Archbishop of York for consecration. This could not be grant
ed, as an indispensable condition to consecration was, bylaw, an oath of
allegiance to the crown . After nearly a year of fruitless efforts to obtain
his object in England, he made application to the bishops of Scotland,
by whom he was consecrated in 1784. He then returned, and entered
upon the duties of his offioe, making New London his residence. He
was an able man, and exercised a beneficial influence in establishing
and extending the Episcopal Church, not only in Connecticut, but in
the country generally. He was a worthy predecessor of other bishops
of Connecticut — Jarvis and Brownell — who have not only done honor to
the Church over which they presided, but have contributed to swell the
list of scholars and divines which adorn our literature iind our eceleBi-
astioal history.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 191
alists, and knowing that he had been an active and
conspicuous tory in the Revolution, were strongly
prejudiced against him. In their imaginations, a
bishop who preferred monarchy to a republic, and
who was called " my lord bishop," rode in a coach,*
and appeared in swelling robes, was something ex
ceedingly formidable, if not dangerous, to Church
and State.
When therefore he came to New Haven to preach,
about this time — that is, soon after he had returned
with his prelatic honors — the church was crowded
to excess. Many who tried to get in were necessa
rily excluded. When the service was over, a man
of the middle class met one of his friends at the door,
who was unable to obtain admittance :
" Well, did you see him ?" said the latter.
" Oh yes," was the reply.
" And did he preach ?"
" Oh yes."
" And was he as proud as Lucifer?"
" Not a bit of it : why he preached in his shirt
sleeves 1"
There was a considerable body of Episcopalians
in the State, though chiefly confined to the larger
towns. The professors of this religion throughout
* It is said that on one occasion he arrived At Yale College during
the Commencement exercises, in his carriage, and a messenger was sent
in to inquire if there was a seat for Bishop Seabury. Dr. Dwight, the
President, sent back word that there were some two hundred bishops
present, and he should be very happy to give him a place among them.

192 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
the Union, but more especially in New England, .had
been charged with being unfriendly to the Revolution,
and it is known that a considerable portion of them
were avowed tories during that painful struggle. Not
only was Seabury a tory, but even Dr. Duche, who
had been chaplain to the first Congress, and for a .time
. was a zealous friend of liberty, fell from grace, and
upon the occupation of Philadelphia by the British,
joined them, and wrote a letter to Washington, call
ing upon him to give up the ungodly cause in which
he was engaged.
The Episcopalians had indeed one tie more than
other men to the " Old Country," and that was a pow
erful one. England was not only their mother in
things secular but in things sacred, the sovereign be
ing the head of that institution which to them was
the Ark of the Covenant. Rebellion to the king was
therefore a sort of sacrilege. And besides, the mass
of the rebels were Puritans, Presbyterians, Indepen
dents, who rather repelled than invited sympathy and
co-operation. It was more natural therefore, for the
members of the English Church in America to take
part with the king and against the Revolution, than
for others.
No doubt the charge of want of patriotism was
exaggerated ; and as to Virginia, where Episcopacy
was the dominant religion, it seems to have had less
foundation. But at all events, this sect was not only
repugnant to the people of New England, for the rea-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 193
son assigned, but also on account of what they con
ceived to be its tone and aspect of aristocracy. Its
progress, therefore, was, of course, slow in that quar
ter, and it may be remarked that it did not take a
strong hold till, as the Protestant Episcopal Church
in the United States, it was separated from the Eng
lish Church, and became, as it now is, an American
establishment, wholly independent in its government
and organization, though the same in doctrine as its
transatlantic original.
At the period of which I am speaking — from the
year 1800 to 1810 — the relative number of Episcopa
lians in Connecticut was in respect to the orthodox
probably about one to three or four. In Ridgefield,
there was a small brown edifice, which was called
the " Episcopal Church," though sometimes, by way
of ridicule, the " Episcopal Barn." The sarcasm may
be forgiven, for in those days the Episcopalians arro
gated the word church as their exclusive property,
just as the Catholics claim it now. The Congrega
tionalists, according to their vocabulary, only held
meetings, and their places of worship were nothing but
meeting-houses. It is not till within the last ten years
that the word church has been popularly applied to
all places of worship.
The Episcopal church in Ridgefield, just mentioned,
was situated on the main street, nearly opposite the
Up-town school. Some years before, Dr. Perry had
been installed there, but he began to preach his own
Vol. I.— 9

194 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
opinions, and finding himself in danger of being ex
pelled, he abdicated, and became a physician — and a
very eminent one. At length it became vacant, but in
order to keep the holy fire alive, about once or twice
a year it was opened, and service was held there. On
these occasions the people flocked to see and hear the
strange ceremonies, generally from curiosity, though
perhaps there were a dozen persons of this persua
sion. At the time of one of these perforrnances, Am
by Benedict, the revolving shoemaker, was engaged
at our house, and he went to church — though, I be
lieve, he was warned against it by some members of
our household. On Monday morning, when he re
turned, we asked him about it — how he liked it, and
what he thought of it.
"Well," said he, "there's too many apologies for
me : it's all the while getting up and sitting down,
and talking out loud. Why — if you'll believe it —
there were three or four persons who kept mocking
the parson, and saying ' awmen 1' till I was rael
'shamed on 'em!"
For some years subsequent to this period, the Epis
copal church of Ridgefield remained only as a mon
ument of waste and decay, but at last it revived, and
is now in a flourishing condition, as indicated by a
handsome edifice, erected nearly on the site of the
old structure. This revival is in harmony with the
general increase and progress of Episcopacy through
out the United States.

195
Methodism, which had swept over England, came
at last to America. Its success in both countries
arose from several causes. The Anglo-Saxon race,
from time immemorial, have shown a tendency to
deep and anxious religious thoughts and exercises.*
It was this national trait which gave such an impulse
to Christianity on its first introduction into Great
Britain ; it was this which, a few centuries later, en
abled the different orders of friars, who went from
town to town preaching spiritualism with a vehement
and popular eloquence, to rouse the people into en
thusiasm, and sow deep and wide the seeds of their
doctrines. When the teaching of religion had been
organized into a system and settled by authority,
there were constantly rising up men deeply impressed
with the importance of religious truth, and earnest
in the desire to please God, and make their own
" calling and election sure."
Hence arose, at one time, the Lollards, at another
the Gospellers, and finally the Puritans, who over
turned the government, and brought about what is
called the Reformation. In due time, these became
divided into various sects, and in the last century,
they, as well as the established church, seemed to
have declined in religious spirit and fervor. The
characteristic elements of the national character,
though long suppressed, at last burst forth. Whit-

* See Penny Cyclopedia, article Methodism.

196 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
field, by his fiery eloquence, first ignited the spark,
and disclosed the deep and glowing emotions which
were kindling in the bosom of society. It was re
served, however, for Wesley, to give them full expres
sion, and to combine into a permanent form, under
the name of Methodism, a church which should em
body and perpetuate a new and startling develop
ment of religious feeling and experience.
The great characteristic of Methodism, at the out
set, aside from its spiritual fervor, was, in the first
place, that it addressed itself to the lower classes, and
in the next, that it was chiefly propagated by illiter
ate preachers. Southey, in his Life of Wesley, gives
us some amusing anecdotes, illustrative of this latter
circumstance. Among these he describes a noted
itinerant declaimer, who, being unable to read, em
ployed his mother for that purpose. " She reads the
text," said the orator, " and I 'splains and 'splounds."
It was, in fact, the doctrine of these people at that
day, which was also held by the early Baptists, that
human learning is rather a hindrance and a snare to
the preacher : that spiritual gifts and grace are indeed
the only requisites. I remember to have heard an
anecdote, applicable to this period, which is in point.
In one of his discourses, a gifted Poundtext, some
where in Connecticut, addressed his audience in this
wise : " What I insist upon, my brethren and sisters,
is this: larnin isn't religion, and eddication don't
give a man the power of the Spirit. It is grace and

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 197
gifts that farnish the rael live coals from off the
altar. St. Peter was a fisherman — do you think he
ever went to Yale College ? Yet he was the rock
upon which Christ built his Church. No, no, be
loved brethren and sisters. When the Lord wanted
to blow down the walls of Jericho, he didn't take a
brass trumpet, or , a polished French horn : no such
thing ; he took a ram's horn— a plain, natural ram's
horn — just as it grew. And so, when he wants to
blow down the walls of the spiritual Jericho, my
beloved brethren and sisters, he don't take one of your
smooth, polite, college larnt gentlemen, but a plain,
natural ram's-horn sort of a man like me."
Thus, Methodism found its first impulse in a de
velopment of the inherent religious elements of the
English character, rendered more explosive by long
compression. It unquestionably derived aid in its
beginning, also, from what was its reproach with its
enemies — the use of illiterate propagandists — for it
must be remembered that Methodism did not ad
dress itself to high places, but to the million. Many
of its preachers possessed great natural eloquence,
and their defects of grammar and rhetoric rather
pleased than offended the rude audiences to whom
they spoke. In recent times, political leaders, and
promoters of various public objects, have found it
convenient to take a hint from this portion of his
tory. It must be stated, furthermore, that the new sect

198 LETrERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
derived a sort of epidemic power from nervous or
mesmeric phenomena which the ignorant deemed mi
raculous, and therefore divine. In the midst of ago
nizing prayers and preachings, individuals would fall
down as in a swoon. These were immediately sur
rounded with persons, calling in impassioned tones
upon the Holy Spirit, as if there personally present,
to wash out their sins, and clothe them in the white
robes of the Lamb of God. The subject of these
solemn and agitating exercises, waking from his cat
alepsy, was saluted as having passed from death to
life, from perdition to salvation ! Then were poured
out prayers of thanksgiving, and then all joined in
hymns, set to plaintive and sentimental airs, many
of them associated in the popular mind with the warm
and tender emotions of youthful love and human af
fection. And these scenes often took place at night,
in the midst of the forest, amid the glare of torches,
the pageantry of processions, and the murmurs of a
thousand voices, joining in a general anthem of ago
nizing prayers and shouting praises.
To a religious mind, every thing that tends to pro
mote religion in the hearts of men, is apt to be re
garded as distinct from the ordinary providence of
God, yet it is difficult to prove even in such move
ments, that He ever proceeds without the use of
means. The notice of these is the sphere of the
historian-, and therefore, not denying or disregard
ing the invisible influences of the divine Spirit,

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 199
I merely chronicle the open and tangible events of
the time I refer to, with the machinery employed to
produce them. The founders of Methodism did not
disdain human means : nay, I suspect it will be diffi
cult to find in the originators of any sect or creed, a
more profound knowledge of human nature, or a
more sedulous employment of human agencies, than
are to be discovered in the early promoters of Meth
odism. Their camp-meetings, their love-feasts, their
adaptation of popular airs to religious songs, their
spirit of social fellowship, their use of the inferior arts
of oratory, their employment of the intense enthusiasm
of congregated masses, their promotion of cataleptic
spasms to excite a feeling of supernatural awe in the
people, were all calculated to produce precisely such
effects as actually proceeded from them. It is neither
necessary, nor is it philosophical, in explaining what
is natural, to go beyond the known laws of nature.
That God was in all this, we believe, but only as He
is in air the other movements of human life, tending
to work out human destiny. Who can doubt that
the career of Washington, the soldier and statesman,
was as much ordered by Providence as that of Wes
ley the divine ?
We all know with what epidemic celerity Method
ism spread over certain portions of England, espe
cially among the masses of Bristol, Moorfields, Black-
heath, Newcastle, and other places. Wesley began
his mission in 1729 : at his death, in 1791, after a

200 LEl'TERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
laborious life of sixty-five years, there were three
hundred itinerant preachers, and a thousand local
preachers, with eighty thousand persons, associated in
societies, all belonging to his creed. This of course
spread to America, but there was less immediate field
for it here. Nevertheless, it was gradually extended,
especially in the newly settled parts of the south
ern and western country. In Kentucky and Ten
nessee it was widely planted, and here it was at
tended with some of the most extraordinary phenom
ena* recorded in the history of the human mind. At

* These consisted of various manifestations, called the ^^falli/ig,'" tho
^^ jerking," the " rolling," the " dandng," and the " barking" exercises,
together with visions and trances. The latter were the most common ;
in these the subject was in a state of delicious mental revery, with a
total suspension of muscular power and consciousness to external ob
jects. In the jerks, the spasms were sometimes so violent as to induce
the fear that those affected with them would dislocate their necks. Often
the countenance was most disgustingly distorted. The first instance of
this occurred at a sacrament in East Tennessee. These phenomena were
most common witb the Methodists, though people of other sects were
attacked by them. The contagion even spread to Ohio, among the sober
people ofthe Western Reserve.— //owe's G7-eai West, p. 179.
Dow gives the following description in his journal, the period be
ing in the early part of 1804, and the scenes of the events desoribed, in
Tennessee and Kentucky.
" I eame to a house, and hired a woman to take me over the river
in a canoe for my remaining money and a pair of scissors ; the latter of
which was the chief object with her : so one's extremities are others'
opportunities. Thus with difficulty I got to my appointment in New
port, in time.
" I had heard about a singularity called the Jerks or Jerking exercise,
which appeared first near Knoxville in August last, to the great alarm
of the people ; which reports at first I considered as vague and false ;
but at length, like the Queen of Sheba, I set out to go and see for my-
Relf, and sent over these appointments into this country accordingly.
" When I arrived in sight of the town, I saw hundreds of people
collected in little bodies ; aud observing no place appointed for meet-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 201
the religious gatherings, whether in dwellings and
churches or in the open woods and fields, persons
would be suddenly taken with certain irresistible
spasms, inciting them to the most strange and extrav
agant performances. Some would bark hke dogs,
and attempt to climb the trees, declaring that they were
treeing the devil. Some had delicious trances ; others
danced as if beset with sudden frenzy; others still were
ing, before I spoke to any, I got on a log and gave out a hymn, which
caused them to assemble round, in a solemn, attentive silence. I ob
served several involuntary motions in the course of the meeting, which
I considered as a specimen of the jerks. I rode several miles behind a
man across a stream of water, and held meeting in the evening, being
ten miles on my way.
" In the night I grew uneasy, being twenty-five miles from my ap
pointment for next Monday at eleven o'clock. I prevailed upon a young
man to attempt carrying me with horses until day, which he thought
was impracticable, considering the darkness ofthe night and the thick
ness of the trees. Solitary shrieks were heard in these woods, which
hc told me were the cries of murdered persons. At day we parted, be
ing still seventeen miles from the spot; and the ground covered with a
white frost. I had not proceeded far before I came to a stream of water
from the springs of the mountain, which made it dreadful cold. In
my heated state I had to wade this stream five times in the course of
about an hour, which I perceived so affected my body that my strength
began to fail. Fears began to arise that I must disappoint the people,
till I observed some fresh tracks of horses, which caused me to exert
every nerve to overtake them, in hopes of aid or assistance on my jour
ney, and soon 1 saw" them on an eminence. I shouted for them to stop
till I came up. They inquired what I wanted ; I replied, I had heard
there was a meeting at SeversviUe by a stranger, and was going to it.
They replied that they had heard that a crazy man was to hold forth
there, and were going also ; and perceiving that I was weary, they in
vited me to ride ; and soon our company was increased to forty or fifty,
who fell in with us on the road from different plantations. At length I
was interrogated whether I knew any thing about the preacher. I re
plied, I had heard a good deal about him, and had heard him preach,
but had no great opinion of him ; and thus the conversation contin
ued for some miles before they found me out, which caused some color
and smiles in the company. Thus I got on to meeting, and after taking
9*

202 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
agitated by violent and revolting convulsions and
twitchings, which obtained the popular name of the
jerks. All classes of persons who came within the atmo
sphere of the mania — Methodists, Presbyterians, and
Quakers — men and women — became subjects of these
extraordinary agitations. I recollect to have heard
the late Thomas H. Gallaudet say that, when a young
man, he visited one of the meetings where these phe-
a cup of tea, gratis, I began to speak to a vast audience : and I observed
about thirty to have the Jerks, though they strove to keep as still as
they could. These emotions were involuntary and irresistible, as any
unprejudiced eye might discern. Lawyer Porter (who had come a con
siderable distance) got his heart touched under the word, and being
informed how I came to meeting, voluntarily lent me a horse to ride
near one hundred miles, and gave me a dollar, though he had never
seen me before.
" Hence to Marysville, where I spoke to about one thousand five hun
dred : many appeared to feel the word, but about fifty felt t'he jerks. At
night I lodged with one of the Nioholites, a kind of Quakers, who do
not feel free to wear colored clothes. I spoke to a number of people at
his house that night. Whilst at tea, I observed his daughter (who sat
opposite to me at the tabic) to have tb& Jerks, and dropped the tea-cup
from her hand in violent agitation. I said to her, * Young woman, what
is the matter?' She rephed, 'I have got the jerks.' I asked her how
long she had it. She observed, ' A few days,' and that it had been the
means of the awakening and conversion of her soul, by stirring her up
to serious consideration about her careless state, &c.
" Sunday, Feb. 19,1 spoke in Knoxville, to hundreds more than could
get into the court-house — the governor being present. About one hun
dred and fifty appeared to have jerking exercise, among whom was a
circuit preacher (Johnson), who had opposed them a little before, but
he now had them powerfully ; and 1 believe he would have fallen over
three times, had not the auditory been so crowded, that he could not,
unless he fell perpendicularly.
" After meeting, I rode eighteen miles to hold meeting at night. The
people of this settlement were mostly Quakers, and they had said, as
I was informed, that ' the Methodists and Presbyterians have the Jerks
because they sing andpray so much ; but we are a still, peaceable peo
ple, wherefore we do not have them ;' however, about twenty of them
came to meeting, to hear one, as was said, somewhat in a Quaker line.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 203
nomena were taking place, and that he felt within
himself an almost uncontrollable temptation to imi
tate some of the strange antics that were going on
around him.
Nor did all this — so calculated as it was to excite
public curiosity, and to produce in the minds of the
ignorant a superstitious idea that there must be some
thing supernatural in a religion that led to such
But their usual stillness and silence was interrupted, for about a dozen
of them had "Aie Jerks as keen and as powerful as any I had seen, so as
to have occasioned a kind of grunt or groan when they would jerk. It
appears that many have undervalued the Great Eevival, and attempted
to account for it altogether on natural principles ; therefore it seems to
me, from the best judgment I can form, that God hath seen proper to
take this method to convince people that he will work in a way to show
his power, and sent Ma.& Jerks as a sign of the times, partly in judgment
for the people's unbelief, and yet as a mercy to convict people of di
vine realities.
" I have seen Presbyterians, Methodists, Quakers, Baptists, Church
of England, aud Independents, exercised with the Jerks. Gentleman
and lady, black and white, the aged and the youth, rich and poor, with
out exception ; from which I infer, as it can not be accounted for on
natural principles, and carries such marks of involuntary motion, that
it is no trifiing matter. I believe that they who were the most pious
and given up to God are rarely touched with it; and also those nat
uralists, who wish and try to get it to philosophize upon it, are ex
cepted ; but the lukewarm, lazy, half-hearted, indolent professor, is sub
ject to it, and many of them I have seen, who, when it came upon them,
would be alarmed, and stirred up to redouble their diligence with God,
and after they would get happy, were thankful that it ever came upon
them. Again, the wicked are frequently more afraid of it than the
small-pox or yellow fever. These are subject to it ; but the persecutors
are mors subject to it than any, and they sometimes have cursed and
swore and damned it, whilst jerking. There is no pain attending the
jerks except they resist them, which, if they do, it will weary them
more in an hour than a day's labor, which shows that it requires the
consent of the will to avoid suffering.
" I passed by a meeting-house, where I observed the undergrowth had
been cut up for a camp-meeting, and from fifty to one hundred saplings
left breast high, wliich to me appeared so Slovenish that I could not but

204 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
results — constitute the whole of the machinery of
Methodism, at this period. Some of the preachers
seemed to be impelled in their orbits — ^if not as
swift, certainly more eccentric than those of the
comets — by a zeal, an energy, an enthusiasm,
which some kind of inspiration alone could create.
The wandering priests of Buddhism — who traverse
mountains and rivers, seas, islands, and continents,
with a restlessness which knows no abatement ; the
Mohammedan friars that profess to work miracles, and
in evidence of their powers, spin round and round
till they fall fainting upon the floor ; the Bramins,
who rush under the wheels of Juggernaut, or cause
themselves to be suspended by irons hooked into the
muscles of the back, and then whirled round in the
ask my guide the cause, who observed they were topped so high, and
left for the people to jerk by. This so excited my attention that I went
over the ground to view it, and found, where the people had laid hold
of them and jerked so powerfully, that they had kicked up the earth as
a horse stamping flies. I observed some emotion both this day and night
among the people. A Presbyterian minister (with whom I stayed) ob
served, ' Yesterday, whilst I was speaking, some had the jerks, and a
young man from North Carolina mimicked them ont of derision, and
soon was seized with them himself (which was the casc with many
others). lie grew ashamed, and on attempting to mount his horse to
go off, his foot jerked about so that he could not put it into the stirrup.
Some youngsters seeing this, assisted him on, but he jerked so that
he could not sit alone, and one got up to hold him on, which w.as done
with difficulty. 1 observing this, went to him, and asked him what he
thought of it. Said he, " I believe God sent it on me for my wick
edness, and making light of it in others," and he requested me to
pray for him.'
" I observed his wife had it ; she said she was first attacked in bed.
Dr. Nelson had frequently strove to get it (in order to philosophise
about it), but he could not ; and observed they could not account, for it
on natural principles."

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 205
air from a long pole ; — these were all rivaled, if not
outdone, by the indomitable zeal of some ofthe preach
ers and propagators of Methodism at this period.
The most conspicuous of these was the noted Lo
renzo Dow.* He was a native of Connecticut, and at
the period of my boyhood had begun to be talked
about chiefly on account of his eccentricities — though
he was also a man of some talent. About the time
* Methodism was first introduced into America about the year 1766.
In 1771, the celebrated Francis Asbury came over from England, and
preached here. He was followed by Dr. Coke in 1784, and in that year
the Methodist Church in America was duly organized. The two indi
viduals just mentioned, were men of education, talent, zeal, and piety,
and to their earnest and untiring labors, the rapid spread of the society
may be chiefly attributed. Asbury, who w.as constituted senior bishop
in the United States, in the course of his ministry ordained three thou
sand ministers, and pre.ached seventeen thousand sermons !
Among the extraordinary incidents in the history of Methodism, we
may note the following:
" Last year (17419) was celebrated for the commencement of those
Great Revivals in Eeligion in the Western Country, which induced the
practice of holding camp-meetings. This work commenced under ths
united labors of two brothers by the name of McGee, one a Presbyte
rian and the other a Methodist preacher. On one occasion, William
McGee felt such h power come over him, that he seemed not to know
what hc did ; so he left his seat and sat down on the floor, while John
sat tremblingiinder theconsciousncssof thepowerof God. In the mean
time there was great solemnity and weeping all over the house. He was
expected to preach, but instead of that, he arose and told tho people that
the overpowering nature of his feclinge would not allow of his preach
ing, but as the Lord was evidently among them, he earnestly exhorted
the people to surrender their hearts to him. Sobs and cries bespoke
the deep feeling which pervaded the hearts of the people. This great and
earnest work excited such attention, that the people eame in crowds from
the surrounding country, and this was the beginning of that great revi
val in religion in tbe western country which introduced camp-meetings.
This novel mode of worshiping God excited great attention. In the night
the grove was illuminated by lighted candles, lamps, or torches. This,
together with the stillness of the night, the solemnity which rested on
svery countenance, the peculiar and earnest manner in which the preach-

206 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
that Methodism began to spread itself in Connecticut,
Dow appeared in Ridgefield, and taking a stand on
'Squire Nathan Smith's wood-pile, held forth to a few
boys and other people that chanced to be in that-
quarter. I was returning from school, and stopped
to hear his discourse. He- was then about thirty
vears of age, but looked much older. He was thin
and weather-beaten, and appeared haggard and ill-
ers exhorted the people to repentance, prayer, and faith, produced the
most awful sensations on the minds of all present."
" At a meeting held in Cabin Creek, the work seemed to bear down
all opposition. Few, if any, escaped from it; such as attempted to run
from it were frequently struck down in the way. On the third night so
many fell (that is, in cataleptic swoons), that to prevent their being trod
den under feet, they were collected together, and laid out iu two squares
of thc meeting-house. At the great meeting at Cambridge, the number
that fell was named at over three thousand !" — Bangs' History of Methodr-
ism, vol. ii. p. 108.
The following will give some idea of the men and manners connected
with Methodism at this era :
" Calvin Wooster was a man of mighty prayer and faith. Nor was he
alone in this work. The other preachers caught the flame of divine love,
and were carried forward, under its sacred influence, in their Master's
work. Many instances of the manifestations of Divine power and grace
might be narrated, one of which I will relate. At a quarterly meeting
in the Bay of Quiute circuit (Upper Canada, a. l>. 1799), as the preacher
commenced his sermon, a thoughtless man in the front gallery com
menced in a playful mood to swear profanely, and thus to disturb the
congregation. The preacher paid no attention to him, until he was in
the midst of his sermon, when feeling strong in faith and the power of
his might, suddenly stopping, ho flxed his piercing eyes on the profane
raan ; then stamping his foot, and pointing his finger at him, with great
energy he cried out, ' My God, smite hi/in." He instantly fell, as if shot
through the heart with a bullet. At this moment suoh a divine afl[latus
came down upon the congregation, that sinners were crying to God for
mercy in every direction, while the saints of God burst forth in loud
praises to His name." — Bangs' History of Methodism, vol. ii. p. 74,
We now come to Lorenzo Dow.
This person was born at Coventry, Connecticut, in 1777. In his
" Exemplified Exper'ience, or Lorenzo's Journal," he says : " One day,

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 207
favored, partly on account of his reddish, dusty beard,
some six inches long— then a singularity if not an
enormity, as nobody among us but old Jagger the
beggar cultivated such an appendage. I did not com
prehend what he said, and only remember his general
appearance. He was merely passing through Ridge
field, and soon departed, having produced the impres
sion that he was an odd sort of person, and rather
when I was between three and four years old, I suddenly fell into a
revery about God and those places called Heaven and Hell, so that I
forgot my play, and asked my companion if he ever said his prayers.
He said no. 'Then,' said I, 'you are wicked, and I will not play with
you ;' so I quit his company, and went into the house." Afterwards,
having killed a bird, he became distressed in mind, and wished he had
never been born. Still later he had a dream, in which he saw the
prophet Nathan, who told him that he would die at the age of twenty-
two. In 1791 he saw John Wesley in a dream, which induced him to
change his ways, and enter on a. rehgious life. " Soon," he says, " I
became like a speckled bird among the birds of the forest, in the eyes
of my friends."
After various mental agonies he took to preaching, and up to the time
of his death, which occurred at Georgetown, District of Columbia, iu
1884, he traveled and preached with a restlessness perhaps without par
allel in human history. He not only visited repeatedly almost every
part of the United States, but England and Ireland, everywhere ad
dressing such audiences as came in his way. Sometimes he spoke from
a stump, or rook, or fallen tree in the wildnesses ; sometimes in private
houses, sometimes in religious edifices, sometimes on the platforms of
camp-meetings. Few men have ever traveled so many miles : no one,
probably, ever preached to so great a number of persons.
His Journal, above mentioned, is a very curious, though quaint and
affected, record of his experience and adventures. He appears to have
been actuated by a desire of moving on and on, fearing no danger, and
overcoming every obstacle. He must preach or die, and he must preach
in new places and to new audiences. He seems to have considered him
self as urged by a divine enthusiasm to preach the Gospel. The shrewd
observer will think he was quite as anxious to preach Lorenzo Dow. He
evidently had a large share of personal vanity : his spirit was aggressive,
and attacks upon other sects constituted a large part of his preaching.
In one instance he was prosecuted for libel upon a clergyman, and being

208 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
light-headed. I afterward heard him preach twice at
camp-meetings, and will endeavor to give you some
idea of his manner. The following is a passa,ge, as
nearly as I can recollect, his general discourse being
aimed at those who accused the Methodists of being
New Lights — a mere set of enthusiasts.
"Now, my friends, you all know we are called
New Lights. It is said that we have in us a false
fire which throws out a glare only to mislead and
deceive the people. They say we are actuated by
the spirit of the devil, instead of the spirit of reli
gion. Well, no matter what they say ; no matter
what they call us : the question is, whether we have
the real fire or the false fire ? I say we have got
the true fire, and the old Church-and-State Presby
terians have got the false fire. That's what I say,
and I'll prove it.
convicted was imprisoned for a short time. He resorted to various ar
tifices to excite the curiosity of the public, aud thus to increase his au
diences. His doctrines were those of the Methodists, and he generally
associated with Methodist congregations : still, he never formally became
a member of that communion. Though he had the weaknesses and vices
above suggested, he is generally regarded, on the whole, as a sincere and
reUgious mau. His character is, however, not to be commended, for infi
delity thrives upon foibles, eccentricities, artifices, and vulgarities, in one
who assumes to be a preacher of the Gospel. Such things may catch a
few tlioughtless minds, but the reflecting — those who will exert a wide
and lasting influence — will be apt to point to them as evidence that re
ligion is the offspring of ignorance and fanaticism, played upon by char
latans and pretenders.
Peggy Dow, Lorenzo's wife, seems to have" had a great admiration ol
her husband, aud to have shared in his religious zeal, without partaking
of his vices of manner and mind. On the whole, her character hap
pily displays the feminine characteristics of warm affection, devotion,
and that charity which covers a multitude of sins and weaknesses.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 209
" There is in nater, no doubt, as well as in religion,
both false fire and true fire : the first is rotten -wood,
which shines in the night. You often see it among
the roots and trunks of old decayed trees. But you
may pile it up as high as a haystack, and it won't
make a pot boil. Now ain't that like the old sleepy,
decayed Presbyterians ? But as to the true fire — if
you take a few kindlings, and put 'em under a kit
tle, and put some water in the kittle, and then set
the kindlings on fire, you'll see something, won't
you ? Well : what will you see ? Why the water
begins to wallop and wallop and wallop 1 Well, sup
pose you had never seen water bile before — you'd say
the devil was in it, wouldn't you? Of course you
would. Now, it is just so with this carnal genera
tion—the old school, the rotten-wood, the false-fire
people — they see us moved with the true fire of reli
gion, and they say the devil's in it — because they
never saw it before, and don't understand it. Thus
it is they call us New Lights. No wonder, for they
have nothing but false fire in their hearts 1"
Lorenzo was not only uncouth in his person and
appearance, but his voice was harsh, his action hard
and rectangular. It is scarcely possible to conceive
of a person more entirely destitute of all natural
eloquence. But he understood common life, and
especially vulgar life — its tastes, prejudices, and
weaknesses ; and he possessed a cunning knack of
adapting his discourses to such audiences. He told

210 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
stories with considerable art, and his memory being
stored with them, he could always point a moral or
clinch a proposition by an anecdote. He knew that
with simple people an illustration is better than logic,
and when he ran short of Scripture, or argument
failed, he usually resorted to some pertinent story or
adapted allegory. He affected oddity in all things — ¦
in his mode of preaching as well as in dress. He
took pains to appear suddenly and by surprise among
the people where he proposed to hold forth : he fre
quently made his appointments a year beforehand,
and at the very minute set, he would corae like an
apparition. He often took scraps of texts, and ex
tracted from them, by a play upon words, an unex
pected argument or startling inference. His endeavor
seemed to be to exercise an influence over the imagi
nation by associating himself in the minds of the peo
ple with John the Baptist, preaching in the wilder
ness, and living on locusts and wild honey. His
special admirers saw great merit in his oddities, and
even in his long shaggy goat. By the vain world
of that day, this was deemed beastly — for then fop
pery had not taken the beard as its type and its
glory. It was thirty years later, that I saw an
American among the fashionable circles of Paris, and
who had his reddish hair and beard dressed like
Christ in Raphael's pictures — very much petted by
the French ladies, who thought him so like our Sa
viour I

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 211
At the time of which I am writing, one of the great
points of dispute between Methodism and Orthodoxy
was that of "Falling from Grace :" the former taking
the affirmative and the latter the negative. The in
firmities of human nature, sometimes visible in the
Elect, furnished abundant and laughter-moving weap
ons against the doctrine of the saints' perseverance.
The apostle Peter, who had denied his Lord and
Master under circumstances which made his conduct
appear in the highest degree craven and cowardly,
furnished a standing argument for the preachers of
Methodism. The scandals of deacons and priests in
the orthodox church, were picked up and thrown into
the argument with more wit than delicacy. In this
coarse, Parthian warfare, Lorenzo was an adept — and
he seemed to take as much delight in provoking the
ribald mirth of the mocker of all religion, as in contro
verting ecclesiastical error in the mind of the sincere
inquirer. It is true that, in private, the orthodox some
times paid back and perhaps with interest, for the
Methodists claimed to attain spiritual perfection. It
was not difi;cult to find cases in which their practice
jarred a little with their pretenses. The Methodists
had the advantage, however, for their preachers in
troduced these topics in their discourses, often ma
king pointed and personal attacks the pepper and
salt of their harangues— while the more stately or
thodox usually confined their discussions to private
circles, or perhaps general and dignified notices in

212 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
their sermons. On one occasion, Dow illustrated
his views on the subject of " Falling from Grace,"
somewhat as follows, his text being a part of the
verse, Heb. ii. 1 : " Lest at any time we should let
them, slip."
"Now, my brethren," said Dow — when he had
stated and enlarged upon his argument — "let me
take a case, and a very likely one to happen. Nay,
I'm not at all sure that it hain't happened, and not a
hundred miles off. Well, here is Major Smithy who
becomes convarted. He joins the church, and is
safe as a codfish, pickled, packed, and in port. Of
course his calling and election are sure. He can't
let 'em slip. He can't fall from grace — not he ! Don't
be too certain of that, my brethren 1 Don't be too sure
of that, major!
" I say nothing agin the character of Major Smith,
mind you. He is a very fair sort of a man, as the world
goes. Nevertheless, they du say that he was in the
habit of taking, now and then, a glass or two more
than was good for him. He was fond of a warm gin
toddy, especially of a cold day, for he was subject to
wind on the stomach ; and then, in order to settle
his toddy, he would take a glass of flip, and then to
settle his flip, he'd take a glass of toddy, agin. These
he usually took in the arternoon and at Northrup's
tavern. "But, as I say, one day Major Smith was convart
ed, and taken into the church, and so he must reform.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 213
He must give up toddy and flip, and Northrup's tav
ern. And he has gin them all up — for he is paifeckly
sincere — mind you. Well, some weeks later, on the
arternoon of a cold blustering day in December, he
happens to be passing by Northrup's tavern. Just at
that time, as the devil will have it — for the devil is
always looking out for a chance — his old friend and
bottle companion, Nate Seymour, comes to the door,
and sees the major. Well, the latter rides up, and
they shake hands, and talk over the news, and finally
Nate says, ' Won't you come in a minute, major ?'
"Now, as I tell you, it's a cold winter's day, and
the major says he'll jest get down, and warm his
fingers. He won't drink any thing of course, but he
thinks it best not to break all at once with his old
friends, for they may say he's proud. Perhaps he'll
have a chance to say a word in season to some one.
So he goes in, and, as it happens, Nate jest then puts
the red-hot poker into a mug of flip. How it bub
bles and simmers and foams ! What a nice odor it
does send forth into the room! And jest then the
landlord grates in a little nutmeg. What a pleasant
sound is that to poor, shivering human nater, on a
cold day in December !
" Well, Nate takes it and hands it to the major.
The major says to himself, ' I'll just put it to my lips,
so as not to seem, frumptious and unreasonable, but I
won't drink any.' So he takes it, and it feels mighty
warm and nice to his cold fingers. He looks at it ;

214 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
its fumes rise to his nostrils ; he remembers the joys
of other days ; he puts it to his lips !
"Well, and what then? Oh nothing, my breth
ren — only I tell you, that elect or no elect, that is a
very slippery spot for the major !"
The effect of this upon an audience to whom such
language was adapted, especially as it all referred to
a well-known person, who, after being taken into the
church, had backslidden to his old habits, may be
easily appreciated. Who could argue down such
telling logic with the million ?
For a considerable time the Methodists made few
converts in Ridgefield, but they planted themselves
in the neighboring towns, and soon their numbers
were sufB.cient to hold camp-meetings in various
quarters. At length, Dr. Baker, a respectable physi
cian of our village, became imbued with the rising
spirit, and he began to hold meetings in his kitchen.
Here there was praying, and exhorting, and telling
experiences, and singing sentimental airs to warm and
sentimental religious hymns. The neighbors gathered
in, and soon it was noised abroad that a great work was
going on. Various passions were insensibly wrought
upon to swell the movement ; curiosity was gratified
by something new and strange ; the love of the dra
matic, implanted in every bosom, was delighted with
scenes in which men and women stood up and told
how the Lord had brought them from death unto life :
the tender melodies touched and melted many hearts ;

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 215
the sympathy of young men and young , <aidens was
titillated ; the love of fellowship between man and
man was flattered; and all these varying emotions
seemed to be melted into one warm, flowing current
of religion, sanctified by the presence of the Holy
Spirit ! How curious are the workings of the human
heart 1 how much of earth is often mingled in with
what claims to breathe of heaven !
I cast no reproaches upon these persons : Dr. Baker
was a true and worthy man, and among his associates
were several excellent people. I do not deny that
in the end much good was done ; that the thoughtless,
the frivolous, the vain, and in some cases the wicked
and the debased, were drawn, even through these
means, to religious convictions and a religious life.
Still, these things were looked upon as a vain and
delusive mania, or perhaps even the work of the Evil
One, by the world around, and especially by those of
the established creed. Nevertheless, the movement
spread, and at last became epidemic. Some of my
father's flock strayed from the fold, and became the
spoil of the enemy. One or two of his staunch
church members saw new light in the horizon of their
religion. A little short man, up at the North End,
who had a fine treble voice and a tall wife with the
throat of a trumpet, but who was withal one of the
pillars of the church — came to our house, bringing
the said wife on a pillion, both charged with Lorenzo
Dow's true fire. Therefore, they lifted up their voices

216 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
and testified to my father that a new era had come,
and that it was time for him and his people to wake
up from their slumbers, which boded death and de
struction to their souls 1
The precise scene I do not remember. I have only
a general recollection of the deep anxiety of both my
parents about this time. A cloud was on their hearts
and their countenances, by day and night. The dea
cons were called in, and there were profound consul
tations as to what was to be done. The neighboring
clergy were consulted, and it was soon discovered
that they, too, were beset by the same dangers. In
some cases, their people joined the Methodists ; in
others, they imitated them by evening meetings for
prayer and mutual exhortation. The very air at last
seemed impregnated with the electric fluid. Not only
men of a religious turn seemed in a state of unusual
excitement, but the cold, the careless, the worldly, be
gan to ask. What shall we do to be saved ? Attempts
were made in some places to preach down the rising
tempest as an illusion. Parson Elliot, of Fairfield, gave
it battle, as I have stated, declaring that in religion,
as well as in the afPairs of life, a steady, tranquil de
votion was better than sudden and irregular storms
of fervor.
Nevertheless, the movement could not be arrested.
My father, who was, 1 think, a far-seeing man, did
not attempt to breast the shock. He took a wiser
course. He adopted evening meetings, first at the

217
church, and afterward at private houses. No doubt,
also, he put more fervor into his Sabbath discourses.
Deacons and laymen, gifted in speech, were called
upon to pray and exhort, and tell experiences in the
private meetings, which were now called conferences.
A revival of religious spirit arose even among the
orthodox. Their religious meetings soon became
animated, and were speedily crowded with interested
worshipers or eager lookers-on. At the same time,
the church was newly shingled and freshly painted ;
the singing choir was regenerated ; the lagging salary
of my father was paid up, and as winter approached,
his full twenty cords of wood were furnished by his
, , people according to the contract.
And yet the wolf was all the while stealing the
sheep I Nevertheless, my father's church increased,
and at the same time the dreaded Methodists con
verted a large number of the idle, dissipated, and ir
religious, who had become, like Ephraim of old, so
joined to idols, that there seemed no other way than to
let them alone. But for Methodism, this had undoubt
edly been their fate. And thus what seemed a mania,
wrought regeneration ; thus orthodoxy was in a con
siderable degree methodized, and Methodism in due
time became orthodoxed. Tears passed on, and now
there are two bright places of worship iu Ridge
field; one Methodist and one Congregational, and
both filled with worshipers. The people of the latter
consist for the most part of the staid, sober, aua
Vol. I.— 10

218 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
middle-aged class : those of the former — though the
church had its rise in a kitchen — comprise many re:
spectable citizens, with a full proportion of the gen
tler sex, who comprehend and employ the advantages
of coquettish French bonnets, trimmed with wreaths
of artificial flowers ! Moreover, the clergymen of
the two churches exchange with each other, and the
professors of both are mutually admitted to the com
munion tables. Let us never judge too harshly of any
movement, which, though it may develop some frail
ties, has evidently a religious basis. Folly, affecta
tion, vulgarity, are always fit objects of ridicule, even
when clothed in a sanctimonious garb, but in letting
our arrows fly at vice, we should ever be scrupulous
not to wound virtue.

LETTER XVI.
The Three Deacons.
Mt deak 0******
It may be amusing, perhaps profitable, to give
here a few sketches of the remarkable characters of
Ridgefield, at the opening of the present century.
Some were types of their time ; others, however ec
centric, were exemplifications of our race and our
society, influenced by peculiar circumstances, and
showing into what fashions this stuff of humanity

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 219
may be wrought. They were, moreover, among the
monuments that are still prominent in my recollec
tion, and seem to me an essential part of the social
landscape which encircled my youth.
I begin with the three deacons of my father's par
ish. First was Deacon Olmstead, full threescore years
and ten at the opening of the present century. His
infancy touched upon the verge of Puritanism — the
days of Increase and Cotton Mather. The spirit of
the Puritans"~lived in his heart, while the semblance
of the patriarchs lingered in his form. He was fully
six feet high, with broad shoulders, powerful limbs,
and the august step ofa giant. His hair was white, and
rolled in thin curls upon his shoulders : he was still
erect, though he carried a long cane, like that of fa
ther Abraham in the old pictures, representing him
at the head of his kindred and his camels, going from
the land of Haran to the land of Canaan. Indeed,
he was my personification of the great progenitor of
the Hebrews ; and when my father read from the
twelfth chapter of Genesis, how he and Lot and their
kindred journeyed forth, I half fancied it must be
Deacon Olmstead under another name.
I know not if there be such men now — so grand, yet
so simple ; so wise, yet so good ; so proud, yet so meek
and lowly. It is doubtless the cant of each genera
tion in its age and decrepitude, to degrade the present
and magnify the past, perhaps because the heart is a
little jaded and sickened with the disappointments

220 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
which press heavily upon it, and naturally turns with
disgust at these, to bestow a kind of worship upon the
shades which stalk along the distant horizon of youth
ful remembrances. Perhaps there is also something
more personal and selfish in this process, for vanity
often lingers even in the wreck of our existence. Thus
an old man tottering to the grave, not unfrequently
boasts of the feats he performed in his youth ; and
the aged dame — gray, wrinkled, and paralytic — pa
rades the charms of her maidenhood. A vain conceit,
a swelling self-appreciation, often mingle themselves
unconsciously in our thoughts, and as we cannot boast
of the present, which is sliding from us, we find reliel
and satisfaction in glorifying the past, which we still
claim as our own. And again, in age, we are no
doubt liable to self-deception, from looking backward
over an extended view, and taking the things which
rise up like monuments above all around them, as
the representatives of their day and generation, while
in fact they are only their exceptions and marvels.
At all events, there is an impression, I think, that
the great men of the past century in New England
have not their representatives in the present genera
tion, especially in personal appearance and character ;
yet it is probable that our race is not really degener
ated either in its physical or moral standard. There
was something stately, no doubt, in the costume of
the olden time : there was also a corresponding air
of starchness in the carriage. A cocked hat and

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 221
powdered wig made it necessary for a man to demean
himself warily, like an Italian porter who carries a
tub of water upon his head. Thus guised, even
little Dr. Marsh,* of Wethersfield, whom I remember
in his antique costume, was quite a portly gentleman.
The long powdered queues, the small-clothes and
knee-buckles, the white-top boots and silk stockings,
with the majestic tread of a Humphries, a Daggett,
or a Dana — who flourished forty or fifty years ago
in the high places of Connecticut — no doubt made
these leaders of society look like the born lords of cre
ation. In comparison, the simple short-cropped, pan.
talooned gentlemen, who now fill the same, or similar
stations — the T  's, E  's, and S  's — may
seem a degenerate race. Yet if you subject these to
any positive test — though it must be admitted that
manners have lost something of their polish and much
* Eev. John Marsh, D.D., of Wethersfield, was the last ofthe Connecti
cut clergy to give up the wig. I have often seen him iu it, though he left
it off a short time before his death . Once, when he was ou a journey, he
stopped overnight at a tavern. On going to bed, he took off his wig
and hung it up. A servant maid happened to see it, and ran down in
great terror to her mistress, saying, " Ma'am, that minister has took off
his head and hung it up on a nail !"
For many years he was accustomed to mount his old chaise and set
off with Mrs. Marsh to attend the annual oommencemeut at Cambridge
College. Everybody knew him along the road, and bowing, as he pass
ed, said, " How d'ye do. Dr. Marsh ?" At last he dismissed his wig ;
but now, as he went along, nobody recognized him. It was evident that
his wig was necessary to insure the accustomed and grateful salute : so,
on his journeys to commencement ever after, he put it on, though he
discarded it at other times. He died a. d. 1820, aged 79.
Dr. Marsh was a man of great learning and politeness and high re-
epectability. The Eev. John Marsh, now of New York, the distinguished
advocate of the cause of temperance, is his son.

222 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
of their dignity — they will doubtless be found to be
about as tall and as talented, and perhaps as virtuous
as their predecessors. At the same time, I suspect it
will be also discovered that the great mass of society
is elevated in many things above the corresponding
portions of the community in the early days of which
I speak. But be this as it may, there is no doubt that Dea
con Olmstead was in all things a noble specimen of
humanity — an honor to human nature— a shining
light in the Church. I have spoken of him as hav
ing something grand about him, yet I remember how
kindly he condescended to take me, a child, on his
knee, and how gently his great brawny finger.s en
circled my infant hand. I have said he was wise ;
yet his book learning was small, though it might
have been as great as that of Abraham, or Isaac, or
Jacob. He knew indeed the Bible by heart, and that
is a great teacher. He had also lived long, and prof
ited by observation and experience. Above all, he
was calm, just, sincere, and it is wonderful how these
lamps light up the path of life. I have said he was
proud, yet it was only toward the seductions of the
world : to these he was hard and stern : to his God,
he was simple, obedient, and docile as a child : toward
his kindred and his neighbor, toward the poor, to
ward the sufi'ering — though not so soft — he was sym
pathetic as a sister of charity.
Some men seem to imagine that the heart should

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 223
grow alien to man as it draws nigh to God ; that piety,
burning brightly, dims, if it does not extinguish, the
lamp of love and friendship and social impulses. They
look upon religion as the serpent of Moses, and human
affections as the snakes of the Egyptian priests, and in
their view the former should destroy and devour the
latter. It was not so with this noble old man. His
Christianity did not take from the stature of his hu
manity. It was, indeed, as a Christian that his character
was most distinctly marked ; yet he was no ascetic, for
he enjoyed life and its comforts : he did not disdain
its wealth — he toiled for it and obtained it. He lived
— as a man, a father, a member of society — a large
and. generous life, for he had a large and generous
nature. Had this been all, he would still have
passed to his grave beloved and honored ; but there
was much more. His religion was large, grand, im
posing, like his person. He believed with such a
clear, manly faith, that as he walked abroad, you
felt that God and eternity were realities to him — and
by irresistible influence, they became realities to you
— like the sun and the earth. When you heard him
pray — as I have often done — you knew that God. was
there. How sublime is such a man living such a life,
even though he was but a simple country farmer !
I must now present a somewhat different portrait —
that of Deacon John Benedict. He was a worthy old
man, and enjoyed many claims to respect. He was not
only a deacon, but ajustice of the peace ; moreover,

224 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPfflCAL,
he was the father of Aunt Delight — of whom I de
sire ever to speak with reverence. She, not being a
beauty, was never married, and hence, having no
children of her own, she combed and crammed the
heads of other people's children. In this way she
was eminently useful in her day and generation. The
Deacon respected the law, especially as it was admin
istered in his own person. He was severe upon those
who violated the statutes of the State, but one who
violated the statutes of Deacon John Benedict com
mitted the unpardonable sin. He was the entire po
lice of the meeting-house on Sunday, and not a boy
or girl, or even a bumblebee, could offend, without
condign punishment.
Nevertheless, the Deacon is said in one case — ^rather
before my time — to have met his match. There was in
the village a small, smart, nervous woman, with a vig
orous clack, which, once set going, was hard to stop.
One day she was at church, and having carried her din
ner of mince-pie in a little cross-handled basket, she set
it down under the seat. In the midst of sermon-time,
a small dog came into the pew, and getting behind
her petticoats, began to devour the pie. She heard
what was going on, and gave him a kick. Upon this
the dog backed out with a yelp, but bringing the din
ner basket hung across his neck, with him. Back, back
he went, tail first, across the pew into the broad aisle.
" Oh dear 1" said the woman, in a shrill voice — ¦
" the dog's got my dinner I There ! I've spoken loud

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 225
in meeting-time ! What will Deacon Benedict say ?
Why ! I'm talking all the time. There it goes agin.
What shall I du ?"
" Hold your tongue !" said the Deacon, who was
in his ofiicial seat, fronting the explosion. These
words operated like a charm, and the nervous lady
was silent. The next day Deacon John appeared at
the house of the offender, carrying a calf-bound vol
ume in his hand. The woman gave one glance at the
book, and one at the Deacon. That was enough :
it spoke volumes, and the man of the law returned
home, and never mentioned the subject afterward.
This is the whole of the story as it was reported to
me in my youth.
Deacon Hawley was very unlike either of his two
associates whom I have described. He was younger,
and of a peculiarly mild and amiable temper. His
countenance wore a tranquil and smooth expression.
His hair was fine and silky, and lay, as if oiled,
close to his head. He had a soft voice, and an ear
for music. He was a cabinet-maker by trade, a chor
ister by choice, a deacon by the vote of the church, a
Christian by the grace of God. In each of these
things he found his place, as if designed for it by na
ture and Providence.
How easily did life flow on for him ! How differ
ent was its peaceful current, from the battle waged
by Granther Baldwin — whom I shall soon describe —
from the beginning, and ceasing only when death put
10*

S26 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
his cold finger on the heart and silenced it forever.
Oh nature ! thou art a powerful divinity, sometimes
moulding the heart in love and charity, and some
times as if in bitterness and spite. Let those who
become the judges of man here below, make due al
lowance for these things, as no doubt the Judge
hereafter will consider them in adjusting each man's
account. In worldly affairs as well as spiritual, Deacon
Hawley's path was straight and even : he was success
ful in business, beloved in society, honored in the
church. Exceedingly frugal by habit and disposition,
he still loved to give in charity, though he told not
-rr-r . . •
the world of it. When he was old, his family being
well provided for, he spent much of his time in cast
ing about to find opportunities of doing good. Once
he learned that a widow, who had been in good cir
cumstances, was struggling with poverty. He was
afraid to offer money as charity, for fear of wound
ing her pride — the more sensitive, perhaps, because
of her change of condition. He therefore intimated
that he owed a debt of fifty dollars to her late hus
band, and wished to pay it to her.
"And how was that?" said the lady, somewhat
startled. " I will tell you," said the Deacon. " About five
and twenty years ago, soon after you were married,
I made some furniture for your husband — to the
amount of two hundred dollars. I have been look-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 227
ing over the account, and find that I rather over
charged him, in the price of some chairs ; that is, I
could have afforded them at somewhat less. I have
added up the interest, and here, madam, is the
money." The widow listened, and, as she suspected the
truth, the tears came to her eyes. The Deacon com
prehended all in an instant : he did not pause to
reply, but laid the money on the table and departed.
Another trait of this good man was his patriotism.
The prosperity of the country seemed always to be
in his heart — a source of gratification to himself and
a cause of thanksgiving to God. His conversation,
his prayers, were full of these sentiments. Though
of moderate intellectual gifts, his temper was so even,
his desires so just, that his judgment was almost in
fallible ; and hence he exercised a large, though
quiet and unseen influence upon other men. It is
strange, in this world, to see a man who always and
under all circumstances, seems to have as his master
motive — the wish to do just right. Yet such a man
was Deacon Hawley.
I know not how it is, but the term deacon is asso
ciated in many minds with a certain littleness, and
especially a sort of affectation, a cant in conversation,
an I-am-holier-than-thou air and manner. I remem
ber Deacon C  of H  , who deemed it proper

228 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
to become scriptural, and to talk as much as possible
like Isaiah. He was in partnership with his son La
ertes, and they sold crockery and furniture. One day
a female customer came, and the old gentleman being
engaged, went to call his son, who was in the loft
above. Placing himself at the foot of the stairs, he
said, attuning his voice to the occasion, "La-ar-tes,
descend— a lady waits !" Deacon C . . . . sought to
signalize himself by a special respect to the ways of
Providence : so he refused to get insurance against fire,
declaring that if the Lord wished to burn down his
house or his barn, he should submit without a mur
mur. He pretended to consider thunder and light
ning and conflagrations as special acts qf the Al
mighty, and it was distrusting Providence to attempt
to avert their effects. Deacon Hawley had none of
these follies or frailties. Though a deacon, he was still
a man ; though aspiring to heaven, he lived cheerily
on earth ; though a Christian, he was a father, a
neighbor, and, according to his rank in life, a gentle
man, having in all things the feelings and manners
appropriate to each of these relations.
This good man is not living: he died not many
years since at the age of ninety-one, enjoying to the
last good health, and that tranquillity of mind and
body sometimes vouchsafed to the aged after the heat
and burden of active life. I look back upon his mem
ory as a strip of sunshine bursting from the clouds,
and falling upon the landscape of life, to make us feel

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 229
that there is light in the world, and that every man —
even those of humble capacity and humble position —
may possess it, use it, glorify and disseminate it. Such
a life indeed tends to rob existence of its bitterness,
and to give dignity to man and glory to God I

LETTER XVII. '
The Federalist and the Demoerat — Colonel Bradley and General King —
Comparisqn of New England with European Villages,
Mt DEA.E 0******
B'rom the ecclesiastic notabilities of Ridgefield I
turn for a moment to the secular. And first. Colonel
Bradley claims my notice, for he was the leading cit
izen of the place, in station, wealth, education, and
power of intellect. He was a tall, gaunt, sallow man,
a little bent at the period of my recollection, for he
was then well stricken in years. He lived in a two-
story white house, at the upper end of the main street,
and on the western side. This was of ample dimen
sions, and had a grave, antique air, the effect of which
was enhanced by a row of wide-arching elms, lining the
street. It stood on a slight elevation, and somewhat
withdrawn from the road ; the fence in front was
high and close ; the doors and windows were always
shut, even in summer. I know not why, but this

230 LErrERs — biographical,
place had a sort of a wf ulness about it : it seemed to
have a spirit and a voice, which whispered to the
passer-by, " Go thy way : this is the abode of one
above and beyond thee !"
In order to comprehend the impression likely to be
made by such a sombre tenement, you must remember
the general aspect of our country villages at that time,
and indeed at the present time. Each house was
built near the street, with a yard in front and a gar
den beside . it. The fences were low, and of light,
open pickets or slats, made to exclude cattle, pigs,
and geese, which then had the freedom of the place.
There was a cheerful, confiding, wide, open look all
around. Everybody peeped from the windows into
everybody's grounds. The proprietor was evidently
content to be under your eye ; nay, as you passed
along, his beets and carrots in long beds ; his roses
and peonies bordering the central walk ; the pears
and peaches and plums swinging from the trees, all
seemed to invite your observation. The barn, having
its vast double doors in front, and generally thrown
open, presented its interior to your view, with all its
gathered treasures of hay, oats, rye, and fiax. Near
by, but yet apart, stood the crib for the Indian corn,
showing its laughing, yellow ears between the slats,
designed to give circulation to the air.
There was in all this a liberty and equality which
belonged to the age. These had their foundation,
partly at least, in two sources — a love of an open,

historical, ANECDOTICAL, E'rC. 231
unobstructed view, and a sort of communal famil
iarity in the intercourse of society. The first settlers
of the country found it covered with forests, which,
while they sheltered the lurking Indian, the poach
ing wolf, and the prowling bear, also obstructed
cultivation. Trees were then the great enemy, and
to exterminate them was the first great battle of
life. In those days men became tree-haters. The
shadow of the wood was associated with dearth and
danger — the open space with plenty and peace. It
was not till long after, when the burning sun of our
summers had taught the luxury of shade, that the
people of New England discovered their mistake, and
began to decorate their streets and pleasure-grounds
with trees.
In these, the primeval days of our history, men
gathered in the village were mutual protectors one
of the other ; there was a bond of sympathy between
them, founded in necessity, and this led to confidence,
and confidence to familiarity. Equality of intercourse,
with a general equality of feeling, were the results.
And besides, wealth had not accumulated in the hands
of particular individuals or in society generally. The
habits therefore were simple, and the tastes pf the
people demanded little beyond the means and usages
of mere comfort. The love of embellishment gradu
ally crept over society, but at the period of which I
speak, it had not, in Ridgefield and other villages in Con
necticut, gone beyond the elements I have described.

232 LETTERS — biographical.
The American who travels in foreign countries
marked with the vestiges of feudal times, and the con
sequent division of society into castes, will be forcibly
struck with the contrast which these things present
to a New England village. As you pass through
France, or Italy, or Germany, or Spain, you will find
the houses and grounds inclosed by high stone and
mortar walls, which not only hide them from the
view of the passer-by, but are a positive defense
against intrusion. The proprietors bar you out, as if
they not only feared your entrance, but suspected you
of having the evil eye, and you must not therefore
look upon them or their possessions. The walls are
generally high and forbidding in proportion to the
rank of the proprietor : a palace is often a veritable
castle, with its moat, bastions, portcullis, and warder ;
and all this is imitated, as far as may be, from the
chateau down to the bare and desolate tenement of
John Smith and Tom Jones. The doors or gates ot
the rich are of massive bronze or ponderous oak, and
fastened with formidable locks. You can only enter
by permission, and under the eye of a porter, who
¦scrutinizes you closely. This is true not only of
Paris,_ but of all the neighboring towns, great and
small. It is the same throughout the French empire.
Even in the villages, which consist of a crowded
mass of tenements, like the mean suburbs of a city,
every house is a prison, built of stone and mortar,
and not merely denying entrance, but shutting out,

233
as far as possible, the chance surveillance of neigh
bors and travelers. This is the system throughout
the continent. I have often felt almost suffocated
in walking and riding in the environs of Florence
and Rome, and other European cities, ou finding
myself confined in a narrow lane, some twelve or
fifteen feet wide, with walls so high on either side
as to render it impossible to look over them. This
is not only true within the cities, and their immediate
precincts, but often for miles around ; even the fields
and farms are frequently thus inclosed, indicating not
only fear of intrusion or violence, but a repugnance
to mere supervision.
This system of making every house a castle — not
sacred by the law, as in our country, but by stone and
mortar — had its origin in the violence of feudal times,
when might was right. It is a system begun by the
kings, imitated by the barons, and perpetuated in so
ciety by the emulous vanity of snobs and underlings.
At first a necessity, it came at last to be a fashion. At
present it is little more, even where it is general or
universal. Its chief use now is to defend — not wealth
or tangible property — but the fanciful interests of
rank. A prince, a duke, a count, must not become
familiar to common men. His heart must be packed
in ice, so as to silence every large and philanthropic
pulsation. He must associate only with his peers.
He must exclude the vulgar ; he must live aloof,
enshrined in high walls and gates of oak and brass,

234 LETTERS — BIOGRAPniCAL,
There must be in the very aspect of his dwelling a
standing proclamation of his touch-me-not exaltation.
In all things his life and manners must conform to the
dignity of his house and his home. He has better
blood than other men, and this would be contamina
ted by contact with common humanity. The rich
bankers, Messrs. Shin and Shave, must imitate this
high, titled example ; they must be exclusive, at least
to all beneath them. Messrs. Grog and Prog, the
wealthy grocers, must follow suit according to their
kind. This brick-and-mortar exclusiveness answers an
other purpose : it seems to sustain the theory that the
interior ofthe continental home is inviolable. Accord
ing to this, the proprietor lays out his grounds as he
pleases : he sleeps, eats, drinks, dresses, talks, walks,
and amuses himself according to his fancy. He does
not consult his neighbors upon any of these things.
He is lord of all he surveys ; not only his walls, but the
current ideas of society insure him a complete domestic
and social independence. So long as he does not med
dle with politics or the police, he sits under his own
vine and fig-tree, with none to make him afraid. He
has no apprehension that some eavesdropping ear, or
burglarious gaze, is waiting and watching, and will
show him up to-morrow in a Two Penny Tale Teller.
This is the state of things, as it appears to the su
perficial observer, and hence it is that European con
tinental life has great fascinations for some of our

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 235
American exclusives. They think it delightful to
live enshrined in high walls, and to do as they please.
But let us reflect and count the cost. Is this seeming
social independence realj permanent, reliable ? In
point of fact nothing is more hollow and false. Life,
liberty, property, are placed between two monsters,
either of which may at any moment rise up and de
vour you. The government, to which you look for
protection, is a despot, and full of eyes staring with
suspicion. Though it may seem to smile on you,
yet it has your dossier — that is, your life, opinions,
tastes, character — even the secrets of your house aad
your home — written in its note-book. The police
that surrounds you, and seems to protect you, may
at any moment denounce and destroy you. It is by
privilege, and not by right, that you live, breathe,
and have a being. On the other hand, the people,
whom you bar out and defy — their time may come,
and as you have treated them with scorn, they are
likely to repay you with vengeance.
Is not our American system of mutual confidence
and mutual support, infinitely better than this ? It
involves sacrifices, no doubt. Impertinence, gossip,
' scandal, will thrive in a state of social equality and
mutual dependence, but real dignity and true virtue
will not seriously suffer. The false semblance, the
hollow affectation of these, may be stung, but it will
generally be to good and wholesome purpose. And
even if there be evils, we shall learn to cure them in

236 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
time. We are a young country, and are trying various
experiments. We can not expect to leap into the mil
lennium at once. It has taken Europe — modern Eu
rope — more than a thousand years to learn its lessons
in philosophy, art, and manners. All things consid
ered, we are as far advanced as they, and that, too,
after less than a century of experience. What may
we not hope in the future, and at no distant day ?
Let us, then, be of good cheer !
But to return. Certainly nothing can be more
strongly in contrast with our frank, confiding, wide-
open New England village than this suspicious; sys
tematic, radical exclusiveness in Continental Europe.
Impressed with an early love of the simplicity and
equality of our country towns, I have never been
able to conquer the disgust with which I have looked
upon the walled houses and walled towns of Europe.
They seem to me anti-social, unchristian, not merely
bespeaking their barbarous origin, but perpetuating
the seeds of violence and schism in the bosom of
society, which will ere long be sown on the wind
to produce the harvest of the whirlwind. If this
system and these ideas must be endured in monarch
ical regions, they should not be introduced into this
country. I am happy to add that they are imitated
by few, and with even these, they are worn as gar
ments that sit ill upon them, and consequently pro
voke ridicule rather than respect. An American ex
clusive is about as much an incongruity in our society

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, E'lC. 237
as an American duke. He is generally without real
power, and those he attempts to influence are apt to
go in the opposite direction from that which he points
out. I beg pardon for this wide digression, which, how
ever, is not without a purpose. Col. Bradley was an
exclusive. His cold, distant manner bespoke it. He
was, I believe, an honorable man. He was a mem
ber of the church ; he was steady in his worship, and
never missed the sacrament. He was a man of edu
cation, and held high ofiices. His commission as
colonel was signed by John Jay, president of the
Continental Congress, and his ofl&ce' of Marshal ofthe
District of Connecticut was signed by Washington.
His commission as judge of the County Court was
signed by the governor of the State. He was, as I
have said, the most distinguished citizen of the place,
and naturally enough imagined that such a position,
carried with it, not the shadow, but the substance of
power. He seldom took an open part in the affairs
of the town, but when he did, he felt that his word
should be law. He deemed even a nod of his head
to be imperative ; people were bound to consult his
very looks, and scenting his trail, should follow in
his footsteps. Like most proud men of despotic tem
per, he sometimes condescended to bring about his
ends by puppets and wire pullers. Affecting to dis-

238 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
dain all meddling, he really contrived openly or co
vertly to govern the church and the town. When
parties in politics arose, he was of course a federalist ;
though ostentatiously standing aloof from the tarnish
of caucuses, he still managed to fill most of the of
fices by his seen or unseen dictation.
Such a man could little appreciate the real spirit
of democracy, now rising, like a spring-tide, over
Connecticut. Believing in the " Good old way,"
he sincerely felt that innovation was synonymous
with ruin. Thinking all virtue and all wisdom to
be centered in the few, he believed all folly and mis
chief to be in the inany. The passage of power from
the former to the latter, he regarded with unaffected
horror. The sanctity of the church, the stability of
the law, the sacredness of home, life, and property,
all seemed to him put at hazard if committed to the
rabble, or what to him was equivalent, that dreaded
thing — democracy.
He was certainly a man of ability, well read in
history, and of superior mental gifts. He saw the
coming storm, which soon lowered and thundered in
the sky ; but he neither comprehended its force, nor
the best manner of combating it. He had not those
sensitive feelers — the gift of such born democrats as
Jefferson and Van Buren — which wind their invisible
and subtle threads among the masses, and bring home
to the shrewd sensorium an account of every trem
bling emotion in the breast of the million. In fact

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, E'fC. 239
SO far as the mass, the people were concerned, he was
a profound owl, seeing deeply into the nothingness of
night, but stark blind in the open day of real and
pressing action. In wielding power, put into his
hands by authority, he was a strong man : in acqui
ring it at the hands of democracy, he was a child.
I can not better illustrate his character — and thc
humor of his day and generation — than by depicting
one of our town meetings of this era. This was of
course held in my father's church, according to cus
tom. At an early hour Col. Bradley was there, for
he was punctual in all things. He sat apart in a pew
with about half a dozen other men, the magnates of
the town. In other pews near by, sat still others,
all stanch respectabilities. These were the leading
federalists — persons of high character, wealth, and
influence. They spoke a few words to each other,
and then relapsed into a sort of dignified silence.
They did not mingle with the mass : they might
be suspected of electioneering-^of seeking to exer
cise an influence over the minds of the people. That
was too degrading for them : it might do for General
King, and the other democrats who could conde
scend to such things. These circulated freely in the
aisles, giving the warm right-hand of fellowship to
all they met, especially the rabble. Nevertheless, the
federalists had privately determined a few days before
on whom they would cast their votes, and being a
majority, they carried the day.

2 to LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
Thus it went on for a time. But gradually, and
year by year, the leaven of democracy affected more
and more the general mass. Federalism held itself
haughtily aloof from the lower classes, while democ
racy tendered to them the gratifying signals of fra
ternity. Federalism really and sincerely distrusted
the capacity of the people to govern themselves, ex
cept through the guidance and authority of the supe
rior classes ; democracy believed, or pretended to
believe, in the people, and its works were according
to its real or seeming faith. There were questions
at issue between the parties, which involved these op
posite and diverging principles. Shall government be
a republic, having an oligarchical bias, and commit
ting power to the hands of the few ; or shall it be a
democracy, living and breathing and having its being
from the constant inspirations of the whole people ?
Shall suffrage be limited or universal ? Shall there
be perfect religious toleration? Shall there be no
preference in regard td sects ? These were the actual,
pending questions in Connecticut. With such issues,
the parties were not only highly excited, but there
was a depth of sincerity which gave a certain dignity
even to party strife.
However old-fashioned it may seem, I still looJc
back upon those stiff federalists, sitting in their
pews like so many judges in Israel — rigid in their
principles, hard, but honest in their opinions — with
a certain degree of respect. Perhaps, too, they

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 241
were not altogether wrong, though the battle has
gone against them. If, at the outset of our govern
ment, which was launched at the very period when
the French Revolution was agitating the world with
its turbulent waves, the suffrage had been universal,
probably we should have gone to destruction. Fed
eralism, no doubt, locked the wheels of the car of
state, and thus stayed and regulated its progress, till
the steep was passed, and we were upon the safe and
level plain. Theoretically wrong, according to pres
ent ideas, federalism was useful and necessary in its
day. It is to be regretted that its spirit of patriotism
is not imitated by all modern partisans.
Col. Bradley, whom I have described as the head
of the federal party in Ridgefield, was pretty nearly a
type of his kind in those days. There was perhaps
a shade of Jesuitism about him, a love of unseen in
fluences, the exercise of invisible power, which was
personal and not a necessary part of his principles.
I perfectly recollect his appearance at church, and the
impression he made upon me. He was bald, and
wore a black silk cap, drawn down close over his
eyes. These were like jet, not twinkling, but steady
and intense, appearing very awful from the dark cav
erns in which they were set. I hardly dared to look
at him, and if perchance his slow but searching gaze
fell upon me, I started as if something had wounded
me. At long intervals he came to our hoase, and
though he was of course a supporter of my father,
Vol. l.—n

242being a member of the church, I had the impression
that everybody breathed thick and anxiously while
he was there, and felt relieved when he went away.
It is now many years since he passed to his tomb,
yet his appearance and general character are still
fresh in my memory. He was not loved, but on the
whole, his life was beneficial to the community in
which he lived. He had high gifts and large oppor
tunities : if he did not do all the good he might, it
was certainly rather through the influence of original,
constitutional defects, than willing and chosen obli
quity of conduct.
It is not possible to conceive of two persons more
unlike than the one I have just sketched and General
King. The former was tall, thin, dark ; the latter
was of middle height, stout, erect, and florid. The
first was highly educated, meditative, secret, deep,
cold, circumspect ; the latter was unschooled, yet
intelligent ; frank, though perhaps superficial ; impe
rious, yet fearless and confiding. Coi. Bradley was
a federalist ; Gen. King a democrat. These two, in
deed, were the leaders of the two great political par
ties in Ridgefield.
If we could dive into the heart of man, and dis
cern the reasons why one takes this course and an
other that ; why one is of this sect in religion, or
that party in politics, I imagine we should make
some curious discoveries. In certain cases the springs
of these actions are open : one is obviously deter-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 243
mined in his choice by education ; another manifestly
derives a proclivity from family influences ; another
is governed by his social position ; but in other cases,
we are left to guess at motives, and these often seem
so personal and selfish as to reflect little honor upon
human nature. As to professed politicians, I think
mankind generally, without being suspected of cyni
cism, regard them as choosing their party on the same
principles that they would choose a horse — in both
cases selecting that which they can best mount and
ride. They look upon the good public as so many
donkeys, made to be used for hobbies and then con
temptuously dismissed. We see men act thus openly
and shamelessly every day of our lives, and strange
to say, it is not punished, however scandalous it may
appear. Nay, so far as we can judge, the people
rather like it.
In still other instances the causes which determine
the political conduct of men are more latent, though
not the less selfish and personal. We are very apt to
see according to our point of view. The fable of the
pigeon's neck, which reflects red on one side and pur
ple on the other, and hence leads two persons in op
posite positions into a dispute as to the actual color
of the bird, is instructive. One man, in an elevated
condition in life, and having large possessions, natu
rally inclines to magnify the iraportance of authority,
and the respect due to property. Thus, he becoraes
a federalist or a conservative. Another, destitute of

244 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
all but his head and hands, presses the claims of
labor, and exalts the rights of man. He becomes a
democrat. In these instances, persons actually con
trolled by a regard to their several positions, through
the seductions and delusions of the human heart,
generally consider theraselves as actuated by an ex
clusive regard to patriotism and principle. I am
afraid that we can find few instances — at least in the
arena of politics — ^in which the heart of man rises
above this fountain-head of selfishness.
The cases in which the manufacturer sustains pro
tection and the ship-owner free-trade, the south
ern man the interests of slave labor, and the north
ern man the interests of free labor, are similar ex-
araples of selfishness, though somewhat more gross.
It might seem, then, that the ballot-box — the
great depository of the public will, and the source
of public action and power in a republican govern
ment — must be a mass of corruption ; that if the ma
jority of votes are leavened with selfishness, the ag
gregated millions cast at the polls' must be an offense
in the sight of God. Yet in truth it is not so. The
whole result is really a very intelligent index to the
actual wants of the country. Suppose every man
has voted selfishly, the accumulated suffrage shows
where the weight of opinion lies as to the entire in
terests of the people. And even when we consider
the juggles of politicians who make loud professions,
only to obtain office, we know that for the most part,

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 245
when they have attained it, the government goes on
nearly the same, whoever may administer it. Thus,
on the whole, the ballot-box develops and represents
a balance of good sense in the nation that outweighs
even the multitudinous vices, follies, and foibles of
individuals. If I were to be asked what made Gen. King a dem
ocrat, I should be at a loss to answer. He was fond
of authority : his whole presence and manner bespoke
it. His carriage was erect, his head set back, his
chest protruded. His hair was stiff and bristling,
and being long on the top, was combed back in the
manner of Gen. Jackson's. Like him he had a deci
dedly military air and character. He was, no doubt,
a very good man on the whole, but I imagine he was
not imbued with any special sympathy for the masses,
or the rights of man. I have pretty good reason to
believe that his natural disposition was dictatorial —
despotic. It is related that one day he carae into the
field where his men were haying. A thunder-storm
was approaching, and he commanded the laborers in
a tone of authority to do this and that, thus requiring
in fact what was impossible. Jaklin, an old negro,
noted for his dry wit, being present, said in an under
tone —
" I'm thankful the Lord reigns."
" Why so ?" said a bystander.
"Because," was the reply, "if the Lord didn't
reign, the Gineral would !"

246 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
Why, then, was he a democrat ? Was it becausa
Col. Bradley and himself were rivals in trade, rivals
in wealth, rivals in position ? Was it that by a nat
ural proclivity, derived from this relation, he became
an opponent of one who stood in his way, and thus
became a democrat ? Who will venture to solve such
questions as these ?
I pray you not to consider me as saying any thing
invidious of Gen. King. He was really a man to be
respected, perhaps loved, even though he was not of
great intellect, or morally cast in the mould of per
fection. He had plain practical sense, perfect sincer
ity, high moral courage, an open, cheerful, frank
manner. Be it understood that I speak from my
childish recollections. Such is the impression he
made upon me. Erect, martial, authoritative as he
was, I still liked him, for to me he was kind, al
ways asked about our family, and was particularly
unlike that cold, silent, dark-browed Col. Bradley.
His whole person bespoke manliness. No one look
ing on him would suspect him of meanness, in
thought, word, or deed. He was eminently success
ful in business, and his wealth, at length, outstripped
that of his great rival. His party also triumphed,
and he became the first man of the place in position
and influence.
If thus fortunate in these respects, he was even
more so in his family. He had ten children — four
sons and six daughters : all reached maturity, and

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 247
constituted one of the comeliest groups I have ever
known. The girls all married, save one : three of the
sons — among the handsome men of their tirae — pro
fessed bachelorism ; a proof of what all shrewd ob
servers know, that handsome men, spontaneously
enjoying the smiles of the sex, feel no need of resign
ing their liberty, while ugly men are forced to capitu
late on bended knees, and accept the severe condi
tions of matrimony, as the only happy issue out of
their solitude. One only, Rufus H. King, of Al
bany, whom I have already mentioned, took upon
himself the honors of wedlock. All these persons
possessed that happy balance of good sense, good
feelings, good looks, and good manners, which in
sures success and respectability in life. Is not such
a family history worthy of being recorded in this
booK of the chronicles of Ridgefield ?

248 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,

LETTER XVIII.
The IngersoUs— Ret. Jonathan Ingersoll — Lieutenant-governor Ingersoll—
New Haven Belles — A chivalrous -Virginian among the Con'necUcut D.D.'s
— Grace Ingersoll — A New Haven Girl at Napoleon's Court — Real Ro
mance — A Puritan in a Convent.
Mt deae C ***** *
General King's house stood on the northern slope
of a small swell of ground, midway between the two
extremities of the main street, and on the western side.
It was a rather large two-story edifice, always neatly
kept, and glowing in fresh white paint. Wealth and
respectability in the full tide of successful experiment,
were as readable in its appearance as if it had been
so written in front, like the designation of a railway
station. Contiguous to this fresh and flourishing mansion,
on the southern side, was a brown, gable- roofed house,
with two venerable, but still green and flourishing
button-wood trees in front. The building was mark
ed with age, the surface of its clapboards, unprotected
by paint, being softened and spongy through the in
fluence of the seasons. The roof was of a yellowish-
green tint, imparted by a gathering film of moss. The
windows were contracted, and the casing, thin and
plain, bespoke the architecture of our day of small
things. All around was rather bare, and the little

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 2*9
recess in front, open and uninclosed, was at once
shaven close and desecrated by a flock of geese that
every night made it their camp-ground. Nevertheless,
there was a certain dignity about the button-wood
trees in front, and the old brown house in the rear,
that excited respect and curiosity in the beholder.
There was indeed some reason, for this was the home
of the IngersoUs.
The Rev. Jonathan Ingersoll was my father's im
mediate predecessor, as minister of the First Congre
gational Church in Ridgefield. Though he has been
dead three fourths of a century, tradition still cher
ishes his memory as an able preacher, a devoted pas
tor, and a most amiable man. In my boyhood he
had long since passed away, but his widow still lin
gered in the old brown house I have described. She
was every way a superior woman — wise, good, lov
ing, and beloved. Her husband's mantle descended
upon her shoulders, and she wore it worthily before
the world and the Church. By the latter she was
cherished as a guardian saint. She was always my
father's friend, and in the critical and difficult pas
sages which are sure to arise between a pastor and
his people, she was the ready and efficient peacemaker.
I remember her, though faintly and as a dream, yet
one in which I saw a pale, gray, saintly old lady,
almost too good for this wicked world.

250 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
Mr. Ingersoll had a large family, all of whom were
of mature age at the period of my childhood. The
youngest daughter was wife of Gen. King, and mother
of the faraily I have described. Two of the three sons
¦ — Joseph and Moss — were deaf and dumb, and occu
pied the family mansion : the other son was the late
Jonathan Ingersoll, of New Haven, distinguished by
his eminent talents and many virtues.
Joseph Ingersoll- — according to my recollection —
was a plain, solid, dull-looking man, who passed
to and fro with rigid directness, never smiling, and
seeming to take little interest in what was passing
around him. Though naturally quick-minded, and
able to express a few ideas by signs, he still seemed
to shun intercourse with the world, and even with
his friends and neighbors. He and his brother Moss
carried on the farm. He rose every day at the
sarae hour ; took his meals and retired to bed with
the precision of a chronometer. You might safely
have set your clock by him. At a particular time
in the morning he went to the fields, where he labor
ed with the steadiness of a mill : at a particular time
in the afternoon or evening he returned. He re
volved through the seasons, performing the labors
due to each with the same exactitude. Had he been
a machine, wound up and set each day, he could
hardly have been more the creature of routine.
Moss Ingersoll was singularly unlike his brother
Joseuh. While the latter remained a bachelor, the

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 25l
lormer was married, and had a family of several chil
dren. He was of a sharp, ready mind, social in his dis
position, cheerful, witty, and of pleasing personal ap
pearance and address. His whole face beamed with
intelligence ; his manners bespoke a certain natural
refinement, and a quick sensibility to the pleasures of
social intercourse. It must be remembered that this
was long prior to the modern art of teaching the deaf
and dumb ; nevertheless, his father had taken great
pains with him, and had given him some instruction
through the use of signs. By means of these, Moss
conversed to a limited extent with his wife and chil
dren, and indeed the whole neighborhood. He came
frequently to our house, and was a great favorite. I
learned to talk with him a little, and when I met
him, he always had something interesting to say.
His signs were descriptive, and displayed a turn for
humorous associations. Deacon Olmstead was the Big
Cane ; my father the Bald Pate ; Gen. King the Long
Sword ; Lieut. Smith the See-Saw, and so on. He
could write so as to keep accounts, but could not
read, and it is probable his range of abstract ideas
was narrow. His ready perceptions, however, gave
him a large acquaintance with common things. He
even seemed to comprehend the outlines of Chris
tianity, and to feel the obligations of conforming to
its requisitions. How far he reached into the pro-
founder depths of religion — the mysteries of God
and eternity, of man and his vast capacities and ama-

252 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
zing destinies, as unfolded by revelation — it is impos
sible to know. It is related that a deaf and dumb
man in France grew up to manhood, and seemed to
have a highly religious tendency and experience.
He attended the services of the church with steadfast
assiduity, and wore a devout and penitential air. No
one doubted his comprehension of the groundwork
of religion, or the reality of his piety. Afterward,
by a surgical operation, he recovered his hearing. It
then appeared that he had never conceived the idea
of God, a future state, or moral responsibility ! His
religion was wholly a pantomime. He saw that reli
gious forms and ceremonies were esteemed, and hence
he found pleasure in them. He was not a hypocrite,
nor an automaton, but a simple exemplification of
that mimetic aptitude which is a part of our nature.
How large a part of the religion of the world is no
better than this, it is not for us to say.
It is probable that Moss Ingersoll had passed be
yond this state of living death : no doubt he com
prehended — faintly, at least — the idea of a God and
human accountability ; it is even supposed that he
conceived the triune existence of the Deity. He
certainly understood something of astronomy, and
the nature of the heavenly bodies. Knowing so
much, how must he have yearned to know more !
How must his active, earnest mind have struggled
within its prison, and sought to solve a thousand
mysteries which haunted and perplexed it I What

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 253
a world of thought and knowledge would have been
opened to him by the gift of speech, and yet—
what unfathomed and unfathomable mysteries would
have remained unsolved, still to haunt and perplex
him ! Within the narrow circle of his observation
and experience, he was almost as near the great mys
teries hid in the bosom of the Almighty, which come
so often and so anxiously to ask a solution, as the
profoundest philosopher. I remember once, while
traveling with Mr. Webster, to have asked him if he
had been able, in any degree, to penetrate the curtain
which hangs over the origin of man, of nature, and
of God. He replied that the plainest mind could see
just as far in that direction as the most acute : the
Almighty had shut the door upon these his secrets,
and it was vain for us to attempt to open it.
How hard is it to submit to this stern decree ! Be
hind that awful barrier lie those mighty truths which
from the beginning have stimulated, yet baffled, hu
man thought and inquiry. No mind can see thera,
or yet forego them. There is God : there is man's
history, man's destiny, written in letters of light ! Oh
that we could behold and read the amazing revela
tion ! It may not be : the door is closed ; we can not
force it ! The tyrant Death holds the key : he alone
has power to open it ; and he at last will open it to
us all. Till then, patience, hope, submission — these
are our only resources.
When I left Ridgefield, the two deaf and dumb

254 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
IngersoUs were still living. On my retum there,
some years after, both were in their graves. If their
privileges were less than those of other men, so
doubtless was their accountability. Perhaps even
the balance of enjoyment in their lives was not much
less than it would have been had they possessed their
full faculties. With increased gifts come increased
temptations. Men of superior endowments too often
abuse their privileges, and their lives sink even be
low the level of ordinary men. Those who are
born rich often squander their wealth, and thus the
bankrupt is even more wretched than he who was a
pauper from the beginning. At all events, I look
back upon the somewhat mournful story of these two
men with a cheerful conviction that on earth their
lives passed tranquilly away, and that hereafter the
cloud that shaded their minds will be removed in
such manner and measure as to compensate for the
privations they suffered here.
Jonathan Ingersoll, their brother, was an eminent
lawyer, and settled at New Haven. Personally, he was
erect, slender, and very much like his distinguished
son, the present Ralph I. Ingersoll. He was marked
by -a nervous twitch ofthe face, which usually signal
ized itself when he began to address the jury. On these
occasions his eyes opened and shut spasmodically ; at
the same time he drew the corners of his mouth up
and down, the jvhole seeming as if it was his object to
set the court in a roar. Sometimes he succeeded, in

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 255
spite of all his efforts to the contrary. Indeed, it was
impossible for a person on seeing this for the first
time, to avoid a smile — perhaps a broad one. It
might seem that such a frailty would have been a
stumbling-block in his profession ; yet it was not so.
I suspect, indeed, that his practice as a lawyer was
benefited by it — for the world likes an easy handle to
a great name, and this is readily supplied by a per
sonal peculiarity. At all events, such was the dignity
of his character, the grace of his language, and the
perfection of his logic, his law, and his learning, that
he stood among the foremost of his profession. He
became Lieutenant-governor of the State, a judge of
the Supreme Court, and held various other respon
sible offices.
This gentleman had a large faraily — sons and
daughters : the names of the former are honorably
recorded in the official annals of their native State
— nay, of the United States. The daughters were
distinguished for personal attractions and refined ac
complishments. One of them claims a special notice
 Grace Ingersoll : how beautiful the name, how sug
gestive of what she was in mind, in person, in char
acter I I saw her once — ^but once, and I was then a
child — yet her image is as distinct as if I had seen
her yesterday.
In my boyhood these New Haven IngersoUs came
to Ridgefield occasionally, especially in summer, to
visit their relations there. They all seemed to me

256 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
like superior beings, especially Mrs. Ingersoll, who
was fair and forty about those days. On a certain
occasion, Grace, who was a school companion of ray
elder sister's, came to our house. I imagine she did
not see or notice me. Certainly she did not discover
in the shy boy in the corner her future biographer.
She was tall and slender, yet fully rounded, with rich,
dark hair, and large Spanish eyes — now seeming blue
and now black, and changing with the objects on
which she looked, or the play of emotions within her
breast. In complexion she was a brunette, yet with
a melting glow in her cheek, as if she had stolen
from the sun the generous hues which are reserved
-for the finest of fruit and flowers. Her beauty was
in fact so striking — at once so superb and so concil
iating — that I was both awed and fascinated by her.
Wherever she went I followed, though keeping at a
distance, and never losing sight of her. She spent the
afternoon at our house, and then departed, and I saw
her no more.
It was not long after ."^his that a Frenchraan by the
name of Grellet, who had corae to America on some
important commercial affairs, chanced to be at New
York, and there saw Grace Ingersoll. Such beauty
as that of the New Haven belle is rare in any coun
try : it is never indigenous in France. Even if such
could be born there, the imperious force of conven
tional manners would have stamped itself upon her,
and made her a fashionable lady", at the expense

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 257
of that Eve-like beauty and simplicity which charac
terized her. It is not astonishing, then, that the
stranger — accustomed as he was to all the beauty of
French fashionable life — should still have been smit
ten with this new and startling type of female love
liness. I may remark, in passing, and as pertinent to my
narrative, that the women of New Haven in these
bygone days were famous for their beauty. They
may be so yet, but I have not been there — except as
a railroad passenger — for years, and can not estab
lish the point by my own direct testimony. As to
• the olden time, however, I can verify my statements
from the evidence of ray own eyes, as well as the rec
ords of long tradition. Araong the legends I have
heard on this subject is one to this effect. There was
once a certain Major L . . . . — a Virginian — who I be
lieve was at one time a member of Congress. He
was a federalist ; and when I saw him at Washington,
about the year 1820, he wore a thick queue, and a
good sprinkling of hair-powder — then generally es
teemed very undemocratic. He was a large and
handsome man, and at the period of which I speak
was some fifty years of age. But being a Virgin
ian, and withal a bachelor, he was still highly chiv
alrous in his feelings and conduct toward the fair
sex. Now, once upon a time this handsome old bachelor
paid a visit to New England. Having stayed a while

258 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
at Boston, he journeyed homeward till he came to
New Haven. It chanced to be Commencement-day
¦ — the great jubilee of the city — while he was there.
Having no acquaintances, he set out in the morning
to go and see the cereraonies. Directed by the cur
rent of people to the chapel, he went thither, and
asked for admittance. It wa's the custom first to re
ceive the reverend clergy and the ladies, who had
privileged seats reserved for thera — the world at large
being kept out till these were accommodated: a
fact which shows that our Puritan ancestors, if they
did not hold women to be divine, placed them on
the same level as divines. The doorkeeper scanned^
Major L .... as he came up to the place, and observ
ing him to be a good-looking gentleraan in black,
with a tinge of powder on his coat-collar, set him
down as a minister of the Gospel, and so let him pass.
The sexton within took him in charge, and placed
him in the clerical quarter between two old D. D.'s —
Dr. Perkins, of West Hartford, and Dr. Marsh, of
Wethersfield, each having the Five Points sticking
out — the one from his gray locks and the other from
his frizzed wig — as plainly as if they had been em
blazoned on a banner.
The major, with the conscious ease of his genial
nature and southern breeding, took his seat and sur
veyed the scene. His gaze soon fell upon a battery
of eyes — beautiful, yet dangerous — that ran along the
gallery. Unconscious of the sanctity and saintliness

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 259
of his position, he half rose and made a low and gra
cious bow to the ladies above, as ifto challenge their
whole artillery. Every eye in the house was thus
drawn toward him. Before he had time to compose
himself. Miss F  , one of the belles of the day,
came down the broad aisle, full upon him 1 He had
never seen any thing so marvellously beautiful — at
once so simple and so superb, so much a woman and
so much a divinity. He held his breath till she had
passed, when he turned suddenly to Rev. Dr. Marsh,
and giving him a slap on his shoulder — which dis
lodged a shower of powder from his wig — exclaimed,
" By all the gods, sir, there is Venus herself !"
It is not easy to conceive of the consternation of
all around, and especially of the reverend clergy.
Their grizzled hair stood out, as if participating in
the general horror. What could possess their rev
erend brother ? Was he suddenly beset by the Evil
One, thus to utter the unhallowed name of Venus in
the house of God? It was indeed a mystery. Grad
ually, and one by one, they left the infected pew, and
Major L . . . ., finding himself alone, quietly pocketed
the joke, which, however, he often repeated to his
friends after his return to Virginia.
This legend refers to a date some dozen years sub
sequent to the era of Grace Ingersoll, and which
therefore shows that the traditional beauty of the New
Haven ladies had not then declined. I now return
to my story. From the first view of that fair lady.

260 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
M. Grellet was a doomed man. Familiar with the
brilliant court of the Parisian capital, he might have
passed by unharmed, even by one as fair as our he
roine, had it not been for that simplicity, that Pmi-
tanism of look and manner, which belonged to the
social climate in which she was brought up — so strong
ly in contrast to the prescribed pattern graces of a
French lady. He came, he saw, he was conquered.
Being raade captive, he had no other way than to
capitulate. He was a man of good family, a fine
scholar, and a finished gentleman. He made due
and honorable proposals, and was accepted — though
on the part of the parents with many misgivings.
Marriage ensued, and the happy pair departed for
France. This took place in 1806. M. Grellet held a high
social position, and on his arrival at Paris, it was a
matter of propriety that his bride should be pre
sented at court. Napoleon was then in the full
flush of his imperial glory. It must have been
with some palpitations of heart that the New Ha
ven girl — scarcely turned of eighteen years, and new
to the great world — prepared to be introduced to the
glittering circle of the Tuileries, and under the eye of
the emperor himself As she was presented to hira,
in the raidst ofa dazzling throng, blazing with orders
and diamonds, she was a little agitated, and her foot
was entangled for a moraent in her long train — then
an indispensable part of the court costume.. Napo-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 261
leon, who, with all his greatness,, never rose to the
dignity of a gentleman, said in her hearing, " Voild
de la, gaucherie americaine /" American awkward
ness ! Perhaps a certain tinge of political bitterness
mingled in the speech, for Jerome had been seduced
into marriage by the beauty of an American lady,
greatly to the chagrin of his aspiring and unprinci
pled brother. At all events, though he saw the blush
his rudeness had created, a malicious smile played
upon his lips, indicative of that contempt of the feel
ings of women, which was one of his characteristics.'*
Madame Grellet, however, survived the shock of
this discourtesy, which signalized her entry into fash
ionable life. She soon became a celebrity in the court
circles, and always maintained pre-eminence, alike for
beauty of person, grace of manners, and delicacy and
dignity of character. More than once she had her re
venge upon the emperor, when in the center of an ad
miring circle, he, with others, paid homage to her fas
cinations. Yet this transplantation of the fair Puritan,
even to the Paradise of fashion, was not healthful.
M. Grellet became one of Bonaparte's receivers-
general, and took up his residence in the department of
the Dordogne — though spending the winters in Paris.

* Napoleon's estimate of woman was very low : it was his cherished
opinion that the orientals understood much better how to dispose of tha
female sex than the Europeans. There was a brusquerie, a precipitancy
in his manner toward women, both in public and private, which fcis
greatest admirers admit to have been repugnant to every feeling of fe
male delicacy. See Alison's Europe, vol. ix. p. 151.

262 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
Upon the fall of Napoleon, he lost his office, but was
reappointed during the "hundred days," only to lose
it again upon the final restoration of Louis XVIIL
The shadows now gathered thick and dark around
him. His wife having taken a violent cold was at
tacked with pleurisy, which resulted in a gradual de
cline. Gently but surely her hfe faded away. Death
loves a shining mark, and at the early age of five-and-
twenty she descended to the tomb. With two lovely
daughters — the remembrances of his love and his
affliction — M. Grellet returned to the south of France,
and in the course of years, he too was numbered with
the dead.
Almost half a century passed away, and the mem
ory of Grace Ingersoll had long been obliterated from
my mind, when it was accidentally recalled. One
evening, being at the Tuileries — among the celebrities
of the world's most brilliant court — I saw her brother,
R. I. Ingersoll. It was curious to meet here with one
to whom I had not spoken— though I had occasion
ally seen him — since we were boys together in Ridge
field. The last incident associated with him in my
memory was that we played mumbletepeg together
on the green mound, beneath the old Ingersoll .but-
tonwoods. He was now the American Ambassador
to Russia, and on his way thither, and I was a chance
sojourner m Paris.
We met as if we were old friends. At length I
recollected his sister Grace, and asked if her children

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 263
were living. He replied in the affirmative, and that
he was on the point of paying them a visit. I saw
him a month afterward, and he told me that he had
just returned from the south of France, where he had
enjoyed a most interesting stay of a fortnight with
his nieces. One — the elder — was married, and had
children around her. She was the wife of an eminent
physician, and in easy circumstances — occupying a
good social position. She was a charming person, and,
as he thoi;ight, possessed something of the appearance
and character of his lost sister. He found that she
could sing the simple Connecticut ballads — taught her
in childhood, perhaps in the cradle — by her mother :
she had also some of her sketches in pencil, and other
personal mementoes, which she cherished as sacred
relics of her parent, who now seemed a saint in her
memory. How beautiful and how touching are such
remembrances — flowers that cast perfume around the
very precincts of the tomb !
The other neice — where was she ? In a convent,
lost to the world — devoted to God — if indeed to ex
tinguish the lights of life be devotion to Him who
gave them ! By special favor, however, she was
permitted to leave her seclusion for a short period,
that she might see her uncle. She came to the
house of her sister, and remained there several days
She was a most interesting person, delicate, grace
ful, sensitive, still alive to all human affections. Sha
was generally cheerful, and entered with a ready

264 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
heart into the pleasures of home and friends around
her. I shall venture to quote a single passage from
a letter on this subject, addressed to me by her uncle.
Speaking of his visit above alluded to, he says :
"One day, after we had been talking as usual of
Araerica and her American relations, she excused
herself to me for a short time, that she might go to
her room and write a letter to the convent. She was
gone from me much longer than I had expected, and
on her return I said to her :
" ' You must have been writing a long letter, if I
. may judge by the time you have been about it?'
" ' Yes,' was her reply ; ' but I have not been wri
ting all the while ; I have been praying.'
" ' Indeed ! Do you pray often ?'
" ' Yes — and even more often here than when I am
at the convent.'
"'Why so?'
" ' I fear, my dear uncle, that my affection for you
will attach me too much to earth.' "
How strange, how affecting are the vicissitudes of
life as we read them in the intimate personal histo
ries of homes and hearts ! The direct descendants
of the Puritan minister of Ridgefield — the one a
mother, blending her name, her lineage, and her lan
guage, in the annals of a foreign land ; the other, a
devotee, seeking in the seclusion of her cell — and per
haps not altogether in vain — "that peace which the
world can not give !"

niSrORIOAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 265

LETTER XIX.
Mat Olmstead, the Town Wit— The Salamander Hat— Tlie Great EcUpse
—Sharp Logic— Lieute^nant Smith, the Town Philosopher— The Pur
chase of Louisiana — Lewis and Clarke's Exploring Expeditiorir—Th*
Great Meteor— Hamilton and Burr— The Leopard and tlie Chesapeake-
Fulton's Steamboats— Gh-aniher Baldw'm, the ViUage Miser.

Mt deae C*****"*^
Matthew Olmstead, or Mat Olmstead, as he was
usually called, was a day laborer, and though his
speciality was the laying of stone fences, he was equal
ly adroit at hoeing corn, mowing, and farm-work in
general. He was rather short and thick-set, with a
long nose, a little bulbous in his latter days — with a
ruddy complexion, and a mouth shutting like a pair
of nippers — the lips having an oblique dip to the left,
giving a keen and mischievous expression to his face,
qualified, however, by more of mirth than malice.
This feature was indicative of his mind and character,
for he was sharp in speech, and affected a crisp, bi
ting brevity, called^ dry wit. He had also a turn for
practical jokes, and a great many of these were told
of him, to which, perhaps, he had no historical claim.
The following is one of them, and is illustrative ol
his manner, even if it originated elsewhere.
On a cold .stormy day in December — as I received
the tale — a man chanced to come into the bar-room
Vol. L— 13

266 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
of Keeler's tavern, where Mat Olmstead and several
of his companions were lounging. The stranger had
on a new hat of the latest fashion, and still shining
with the gloss of the iron. He seemed conscious of
his dignity, and carried his head in such a manner as
to invite attention to it. Mat's knowing eye imme
diately detected the weakness of the stranger ; so he
approached him, and said —
" What a very nice hat you've got on. Pray who
made it ?"
" Oh, it came from New York," was the reply.
" Well, let me take it," said Mat.
The stranger took it off his head, gingerly, and
handed it to him.
" It is a wonderful nice hat," said Matthew ; " and
I see it's a real salamander !"
" Salamander ?" said the other. " What's that ?"
" Why a real salamander hat won't burn !"
" No ? I never heard of that before : I don't be
lieve it's one of that kind."
" Sartain sure ; I'll bet you a mug of flip of it."
" Well, I'll stand you !"
" Done : now I'll just put it under the fore-stick ?"
" Well."
It being thus arranged. Mat put the hat under the
fore-stick into a glowing mass of coals. In an instant
it took fire, collapsed, and rolled into a black, crum
pled mass of cinders.
" I du declare," said Mat Olmstead, affecting great

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 267
astonishment — "it ain't a salamander hat arter all.
Well ; I'll pay the flip !"
Yet wit is not always wisdom. Keen as this man
was as to things immediately before him, he was of
narrow understanding. He seemed not to possess the
faculty of reasoning beyond his senses. He never
would admit that the sun was fixed, and that the
world turned round. In an argument upon this point
before an audience of his class, he Would have floored
Sir John Herschel or Lord Rosse by his homely but
pointed ridicule.
I remember that when the great solar eclipse of
1806 was approaching, he with two other men were at
work in one of our fields, not far from the house. The
eclipse was to begin at ten or eleven o'clock, and my
father sent an invitation to the workmen to come up
and observe it through some pieces of smoked glass.
They came, though Mat ridiculed the idea of an eclipse
— not but the thing might happen — but it was idle to
suppose it could be foretold. While they were waiting
and watching for the great event, my father explain
ed that the light of the sun upon the earth was to be
interrupted by the intrusion of the moon, and that
this was to produce a transient night upon the scene
around us.
Mat laughed with that low scoffing chuckle, with
which a woodchuck, safe in his rocky den, replies to
the bark of a besieging dog.
" So you don't believe this ?" said my father

268 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
" No," said Mat, shaking his head, and bringing his
lips obliquely together, like the blades of a pair of
shears. "I don't believe a word of it. You say. Par
son Goodrich, that the sun is fixed, and don't move ?"
" Yes, I say so."
" Well : didn't you preach last Sunday out of the
10th chapter of Joshua ?"
" Yes."
" And didn't you tell us that Joshua commanded
the sun and moon to stand still ?"
" Yes."
" Well : what was the use of telling the sun to
stand still if it never raoved ?"
This was a dead shot, especially at a parson, and
in the presence of an audience inclined, from the fel
lowship of ignorance, to receive the arguraent. Being
thus successful. Mat went on.
" Now, Parson Goodrich, let's try it agin. If you
turn a thing that's got water in it bottom up, the wa-
ter.'ll run out, won't it ?"
" No doubt."
"If the world turns round, then, your well will be
turned bottom up, and the water'll run out !"
At this point my father applied his eye to the sun
through a piece of smoked glass. The eclipse had
begun ; a small piece was evidently cut off from the
rim. My father stated the fact, and the company
around looked through the glass and saw that it was
so. Mat Olmstead, however, sturdily refused to try it,

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 269
and bore on his face an air of supreme contempt, as
much as to say, " You don't humbug me!"
But ignorance and denial of the works of God do
not interrupt their march. By slow and invisible
degrees, a shade crept over the landscape. There
was no cloud in the sky, but a chill stole through
the atmosphere, and a strange dimness fell over the
world. It was midday, yet it seemed like the ap
proach of night. There was something fearful in
this, as if the sun was about to be blotted out in
the midst of his glory- — the light of the world to
be extinguished at the moraent of its noon ! All na
ture seemed chilled and awed by the strange phenora-
enon. The birds, with startled looks and ominous
notes, left their busy cares and gathered in the thick
branches of the trees, where they seemed to hold
counsel one with another. The hens, with slow and
hesitating steps, set their faces toward their roosts.
One old hen, with a brood of chickens, walked along
with a tall, halting tread, and sought shelter upon
the barn-floor, where she gathered her young ones
under her wings, continuing to make a low sound, as
if saying — " Hush, ray babes, lie still and slumber."
At the same time, like many a mother before her, while
seeking to bring peace to her offspring, her own heart
was agitated with profound anxiety.
I well remember this phenomenon'* — the first of the
* This eclipse (June 16th, 1806), being total, attracted groat attention
The weather was perfectly calm, and the phenomena exceedingly in

270 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
kind I had ever witnessed. Its sublimity absorbed
my whole faculties : it seemed to me the veritable,
visible work of the Almighty. The ordinary course
of nature was, indeed, equally stupendous ; but this
incident, frora its mere novelty, was a startling and
impressive display of the mighty mechanism of the
skies. Yet, though thus occupied by this seeming
confiict of the heavenly bodies, I recollect to have
paid some attention to the effect of the scene upon
others. Mat Olmstead said not a word ; the other
workmen were overwhelmed with emotions of awe.
At length the eclipse began to pass away, and na
ture slowly returned to her equanimity. The birds
came forth, and sang a jubilee, as if relieved from
some impending calamity. The hum of life again
filled the air ; the old hen with her brood gayly re
sumed her rambles, and raade the leaves and gravel

teresting. At the point of greatest obscuration, the air was so chill
as to make au overcoat desirable. A short time before this, the dark
ness in the west assumed the appearance of au approaching thunder
storm. A luminous ring surrounded the moon after the sun was to
tally hid. Such was the darkness that the time could not be determined
by a watch. The number of stars visible was greater than at the full
moon. An account of the scene in Boston thus describes it: "The morning
was ushered in with the usual hum of business, which gradually sub-
eided as the darkness advanced. An uninterrupted silence succeed
ed. A fresh breeze which had prevailed, now ceased, and all was
calm. The birds retired to rest ; the rolling chariot and the rumbling
car were no more heard. The axe and the hammer were suspended.
Returning light reanimated the face of things. We seemed as'in the
dawn of creation, when ' God said. Let there be light, and there was light ."
aud au involuntary cheer of gratulation burst from thc assembled speo-
tatore." — Monthly Anthology, 1806.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 271
fly with her invigorated scratchings. The workmen,
too, having taken a glass of grog, returned thought
fully to their labors.
"After all," said one of the men, as they passed
along to the field, "I guess the parson was right
about the sun and the moon."
"Well, perhaps he was," said Mat; "but then
Joshua was wrong."
Notwithstanding this man's habitual incredulity,
he had still his weak side, for he was a firm believer
in ghosts — not ghosts in general, but two that he had
seen himself Like most other ghost-seers, he patron
ized none but his own. These were of enormous size,
white and winged like angels. He had seen them
one dark night as he was going to his house — a little
brown tenement, situated on a lonesome lane that
diverged to the left from the high-road to Salem. It
was very late, and Mat had spent the evening at the
tavern, like Tam O'Shanter ; like him, he ^ " was na
fou, but just had plenty" — a circumstance, I must say,
rather uncommon with him, for he was by no means
a tippler, beyond the habits of that day. It is prob
able that all modern ghosts are revealed only to the
second-sight of alcohol, insanity, or the vapors ; even
in this case of Mat Olmstead's, it turned out that his
two angels were a couple of white geese, whom he
had startled into flight, as he stumbled upon them
quietly snoozing in the joint of a rail fence !
Tt has often appeared to me that Mat Olmstead was

272 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
a type — a representative of a class of men not very
rare in this world of ours. It is not at all uncom
mon to find people, and those who are called strong-
minded, who are habitual unbelievers in things pos
sible and probable — -nay, in things well established
by testimony — while they readily become the dupes
of the most absurd illusions and impositions. Dr.
Johnson, it is stated, did not believe in the great
earthquake of Lisbon in 1755, until six months after
.it had happened, while he readily accepted the egre
gious deception of the Cock Lane Ghost. In our day
we see people — and sharp ones too — who reject the
plainest teachings of common sense, sanctioned by
the good and wise of centuries, and follow with im
plicit faith some goose of the imagination, like Joe
Smith or Brigham Young. These are Mat Olmsteads,
a little intoxicated by their own imaginations, and in
their night of ignorance and folly, they fall down
and worship the grossest and goosiest of illusions.
I now turn to a different character. Lieutenant, or
as we all called him, Lefienant Smith. He has been
already introduced to you, but a few touches are still
necessary to complete his portrait. He was a man o
extensive reading, and large information. He was also
some sixty years old, and had stored in his memory
the results of his own observation and experience.
He read the newspapers, and conversed with travelers
— thus keeping up with the march of events. He
affected philosophy, and deemed himself the great

HIS'fORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 273
intelligencer of the town. If he was thus rich in
lore, he dearly loved to dispense it, asking only in
return attentive listeners. He liked discussion, pro
vided it was all left to himself He was equal to all
questions : with my father, he dilated upon such high
matters as the Purchase of Louisiana ; Lewis and
Clarke's Exploring Expedition ; the death of Ham
ilton in the duel with Aaron Burr ; the attack of the
Leopard on the Chesapeake ;* Fulton's attempts at
steam navigation, and the other agitating topics of
* These several events, which have now passed into the mist of dis
tance, all caused great excitement at the time they transpired.
The Purchase of Louisiana, in 1803, was made by our ministers in
France, Livingston and Monroe, of Bonaparte, then " Consul for life," for
the sum of fifteen millions of dollars. Though the treaty was wholly un
authorized, our goYcrnment accepted and ratified it. Jefferson, then
President, sanctioned and promoted it, though he knew it to be un
constitutional, as has since appeared by his private correspondence :
a fact the more remarkable, as he had always pretended to make a
strict construction of the Constitution a cardinal political principle.
The federalists opposed the treaty, as unconstitutional, and as a de
struction of the balance between tiie free States and slave States,
established by that instrument. The democratic party, knowing the
truth of all this, but having a majority, accepted the treaty. Tliough
apparently a beneficial measure — the mode in which it was effected, has
laid the foundation of the most alarming evils. This example of a pal
pable violation of the Constitution by Jefferson — the great apostle of
democracy — and sanctioned and glorified by that dominant party, has
deprived that instrument of much of its binding force upon the con-
soienoe of the country. Hence, it has become the constant subject of
invasion and violation by party. If our government is ever overthrown,
its death-blow will be traced to this act. Had the true course been
adopted— that of a modification of thc Constitution by the people — no
doubt that stipulations iu respect to slavery would have been imposed,
which would have prevented its present enormous extension, and saved
the country from thc irritating difaoulties in which that subject now in
volves us.
It is a matter worthy of remark that this first violation of the Consti
tution came from the strict constructionists : it is from them also, at thfl
12*

274 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
those times, as they came one after another. He was
profound upon the sources of the Nile and the Niger,
learned upon the site of Eldorado, and magniloquent
upon Napoleon, then raaking the whole earth re
sound with his ominous march toward universal do
minion. To a humble auditory of men and boys,
gathered by chance — as on a wet day, or a Saturday
afternoon, in the stoop of Keeler's tavern — he told
about Putnam and the wolf. General Stark and his
wife Molly, with variations of Washington and the war.
present day, that we hear that instrument made the constant object of -
threatened nullification or repudiation.
Lewis and Clarke's Expedition to the Pacific, across the continent by
way of the sources of thc Missouri, began in 1803 aud was completed
in 1806. This was made the theme of great eulogy by the friends of
Jefferson, whose scientific pretensions provoked abundance of ridicule
in his opponents. In January, 1807, a dinner was given at Washington
to Capt. Lewis, in compliment and congratulation for his success iu the
expedition. Joel Barlow produced a song on the occasion, full of ri
diculous bombast. One verse will give an idea of it :
" Witb the same soaring genius thy Lewis ascends,
And seizes the car of the sun ;
O'er the sky-propping hills, and high waters be bends,
And gives the proud earth a new zone."
This was sarcastically parodied by John Q. Adams, who did not dis
dain to make the domestic frailties of Jefferson the object of his satire.
One verse is as follows, it having reference to Barlow's suggestion that
the name of the Columbia river should be changed to Lewis' river.
" Let Dusky Sally henceforth bear
The name of Isabella :
And let the mountains all of salt,
Be christen'd Monticella
The hog with navel on his back,
Tom Paine may be when drunk, sir :
And Joel cali'd the prairie dog,
Which once was cali'd a skunk, sir."
It is curious aud instructive to know that soon after this (March, 1808),
J. Q. Adams, having lost caste with tho federalists of Massachusetts,

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 275
T have an impression that Lieut. Smith after all,
was not very profound ; but to me he was a miracle of
learning. I listened to his discussions with very little
interest, but his narratives engaged my whole atten
tion. These were always descriptive of actual events,
for he would have disdained fiction : from them I de
rived a satisfaction that I never found iu fables. The
travels of Mungo Park, his strange adventures and
melancholy death — which about those days tra,nspired
through the newspapers, and all of which Lieutenant
went to Jefferson, and accused them of treasonable designs, and was
consequently made a good democrat, and sent as Minister to Russia iu
1809. The transformations of politicians are often as wonderful as
those of Harlequin.
The Death of Alexander Hamilton, July 11, 1804, in a duel with Aaron
Burr, the Vice-President of the United States, produced the most vivid
emotions of mingled regret and indignation. Hamilton, though in pri
vate life not without blemishes, was a mau of noble character and vast
abilities. Burr was in every thing false and unprincipled. He feared
and envied Hamilton, and with the express purpose of taking his life,
forced him into the conflict. Hamilton fell, fatally wounded, at the first
fire, and Burr, like another Cain, fled to thc South, and at last to Europe,
before the indignation of the whole nation. After many years he re
turned — neglected, shunned, despised — ^yet lingering on to the year 1836,
when at the age of eighty he died, leaving his blackened name to stand
by the side of that of Benedict Arnold.
The Attack of the British shAp-of-war Leopard on the TT. S. ship Ches
apeake, took place off Hampton Eoads, in June, 1807. The latter, com
manded by Commodore Barron, was just out of port, and apprehending
no danger, was totally unprepared for action. The commander of the
British vessel demanded four sailors of the Chesapeake, claimed to bo
deserters, and as these were not surrendered, he poured his broadsides
into the American vessel, which was speedily disabled. He then took
the four seamen, and the Chesapeake put back to Norfolk. This auda
cious act was perpetrated under the "right of search," as maintained
by Great Britain. The indignation of the American people knew no
bounds : Jefferson demanded apology, and the British government im
mediately offered it. It was not the policy of our President, however,
to settle the matter with Great Britain : so this diflSoiilty was kept along

276 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
Smith had at his tongue's end — excited my interest
and my imagination even beyond the romances of
Sinbad the Sailor and Robinson Crusoe.
In the year 1807, an event occurred, not only start
ling in itself, but giving exercise to all the philosoph
ical powers of Lieutenant Smith. On the morning
of the 14th of December, about daybreak, I ha|d arisen
and was occupied in building a fire, this being my
daily duty. Suddenly the room was filled with light,
and looking up, I saw through the windows a ball of
fire, nearly the size of the moon, passing across the
heavens from northwest to southeast. It was at au
immense height, and of intense brilliancy. Having
passed the zenith, it swiftly descended toward the
earth : while still at a great elevation it burst, with
three successive explosions, into fiery fragments. The
report was like three claps of rattling thunder in quick
succession. My father, who saw the light and heard the
sounds, declared it to be a meteor of extraordinary
magnitude. It was noticed all over the town, and
caused great excitement. On the following day the
news came that huge fragments of stone had fallen
in the adjacent town of Weston, sorae eight or ten
for years, and became a proverb, significant of delay and diplomatic chi
canery. ^^ I would as soon attempt to settle the aff'air ofthe Ches.ipeake,'^
was a common mode of characterizing any dispute which seemed inter
minable. Commodore Barron was suspended from his command, aud
it was some painful allusion to this by Commodore Decatur, tha' caused
a duel between these two persons, which ended in the death of the lat
ter, March 22, 1820.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 277
miles southeast of Ridgefield. The story spread far
and wide, and some of the professors of Yale College
came to the place, and examined the fragments of
this strange visitor from the skies. It appeared
that the people in the neighborhood heard the rush
ing of the stones through the air, as well as the shock
when they struck the earth. One, weighing two hun
dred pounds, fell on a rock, which it splintered — its
huge fragments plowing up the ground around to the
extent of a hundred feet. One piece, weighing twen
ty-five pounds, was taken to New Haven, where it is
still to be seen, in the mineralogical cabinet of the
college. The professors estimated this meteor* to be
half a mile in diameter, and to have traveled through
the heavens at the rate of two or three hundred miles
a minute. On this extraordinary occasion the lieutenant came
to our house, according to his wont, and for several
successive evenings discoursed to us upon the sub
ject. I must endeavor to give you a specimen of his
performances.

* The extraordinary meteor, here alluded to, was so distinctly ob
served, as to have settled many points respecting meteoric stones, which
were before involved in some doubt. The immense speed of its prog
ress and its enormous size were determined by the fact that it was seen
at the moment of its explosion, through a space more than a hundred
miles in diameter, and that it passed across the zenith in about ten
seconds. It appears probable that it was not a solid mass, nor is it to
be supposed that more than a small portion of it fell to the earth when
the explosion took place. It must be admitted, however, that we have
yet no satisfactory theory as to the origin and nature of these wonder
ful bodies..

278 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
" It seems to me, sir," said he, addressing my fa
ther, " that these meteors, or falling stars, or what not,
are very strange things, and have not received due
attention from the learned world. They are of great
antiquity, sir: their appearance is recorded as far
back as 654 B. c. One is spoken of by the elder
Pliny, sir, which fell near the town of Gallipoli, in
Asia Minor, about 405 B. C. This was to be seen in
Pliny's tirae — that is, five hundred years afterward,
and was then as big as a wagon, sir. From these
remote dates down to the present time, these wonder
ful phenomena have occurred at intervals, so that two
hundred instances are on record. It is probable that
many more have passed unnoticed by man, either in
the night, or in remote places, or in the vast oceans
which cover two thirds of the earth's surface. In gen
eral, sir, these meteors send down showers of stones,
of various sizes. Some of the fragraents are no big
ger than a pea ; others are of greater magnitude — in
one instance weighing twenty-five thousand pounds.
" Well, sir, this subject becomes one of importance,
And the inquiry as to what these strange things are,
demands attention of the philosopher. I have stud
ied the subject profoundly ; I have looked into the va
rious theories, and am by no means satisfied with any
of them, sir. Sorae suppose these raeteors to be cast
out of the volcanic craters of the moon, but that sup
position I deem incorapatible with Scripture, and the
general aspect of the universe. The Bible represents

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 279
nature as harmonious : it speaks of the morning stars
as singing together. It is impious, then, to suppose
that the moon, a mere satellite of the earth, can be
in a state of rebellion, and discharging its destructive
batteries upon the earth, its lord and master. Besides,
the moon thus constantly firing at the earth would,
in the course.of time,.be all shot away."
"That is," said -my father, "it would get out of
ammunition, as the Americans did at Bunker Hill?"
" Just so, sir : therefore I look upon these as crude
opinions, arising from a superficial view of the uni
verse. I have examined the subject, sir, and am
inclined to the opinion that these phenomena are
animals revolving in the orbits of space between the
heavenly bodies. Occasionally, one of them comes
too near the earth, and rushing through our atmo
sphere with immense velocity, takes fire and ex
plodes !"
" This is rather a new theory, is it not?" said my
father. "It appears that these meteoric stones, in
whatever country they fall, are composed of the same
ingredients — mostly silex, iron, and nickel : these
substances would make rather a hard character, if en
dowed with animal life, and especially with the capa
city of rushing through space at the rate of two or
three hundred miles a minute, and then exploding ?"
" These substances I consider only as the shell ot
the animal, sir."
" You regard the creature as a huge shell-fish, then ?"

2*^0 • LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
" Not necessarily a fish, for a whole order of na
ture, called Crustacea, has the bones, on the outside.
In this case of meteors, I suppose thera to be cov
ered with some softer substance, for it frequently
happens that a jelly-like matter comes down with
raeteoric stones. This reserables coagulated blood ;
and thus what is called bloocjy rain or snow, has
often fallen over great spaces of country. Now,
when the chemists analyze these things — the stones,
which I consider the bones, aud the jelly, which I
consider the fat, and the rain, which I consider the
blood — they find them all to consist of the same ele
raents — that is, silex, iron, nickel, &c. None but
ray aniraal theory wUl harmonize all these phenom
ena, sir."
"But," interposed my father, "consider the enor
mous size of your aerial -monsters. I recollect to have
read only a short time since, that in the year 1803,
about one o'clock in the afternoon, the inhabitants
of several towns of Normandy, in France, heard
noises in the sky, like the peals of cannon and mus
ketry, with a long-continued roll of drums. Looking
upward, they saw something like a small cloud at an
iraraense elevation, which soon seemed to explode,
sending its vapor in all directions. At last a hissing
noise was heard, and then stones fell, spreading over
a country three railes wide by eight miles long. No
less than two thousand pieces were collected, weigh
ing from one ounce to .seventeen pounds. That must

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 281
have been rather a large animal — eight miles long
and three miles wide !"
" What is that, sir, in comparison with the earth,
which Kepler, the greatest philosopher that ever
lived, conceived to be a huge beast?"
" Yes ; but did he prove it ?"
"He gave good reasons for it, sir. He found very
striking analogies between the earth and animal ex
istences : such as the tides, indicating its breathing
through vast internal lungs ; earthquakes, resembling
eructations from the stomach ; and volcanoes, sugges
tive of boils, pimples, and other cutaneous eruptions."
" I think I have seen your theory set to verse."
Saying this, my father rose, and bringing a book,
read as follows :
" To me things are not as to vulgar eyes- -
I would all nature's works anatomize :
This world a' living monster seems to me,
Boiling and sporting in the aerial sea :
The soil encompasses her rocks and stones,
As flesh in animals encircles bones.
I see vast ocean, like a heart in play.
Pant systole and diastole every day,
And by unnumber'd 'venus streams supplied.
Up her broad rivers force the aerial tide.
The world's great lungs, monsoons and trade- winds show—
From east to west, from west to east they blow •
The hills are pimples, which earth's face defile,
And burning Etna an eruptive boil.
On her high mountains living forests grow.
And downy grass o'erspreads the vales below :

282 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
From her vast body perspirations rise.
Condense in clouds and float beneath the skies."*
My father having closed the book, the profound
lieutenant, who did not conceive it possible that a
thing so serious could be made the subject of a joke,
said :
" A happy illustration of my philosophy, sir, though
I can not commend the form in which it is put. If a
man has any thing worth saying, sir, he should use
prose. Poetry is only proper when one wishes to
embellish folly, or dignify trifles. In this case it is
otherwise, I admit ; and I am happy to find so pow
erful a supporter of my animal theory of meteors. I
shall consider the subject, and present it for the con
sideration of the philosophic world."
One prominent characteristic of this our Ridgefield
philosopher was, that when a great event came about,
he fancied that he had foreseen and predicted it from
the beginning. Now about this time Fulton actually
succeeded in his long-sought application of steam to
¦* This is from the " Oration which might have been delivered," by
Francis Hopkinson, LL. D., published in a volume entitled, " American
Poems, selected and original," Litchfield, Conn., 1793. This work I con
sidered, in my youth, one of the marvels of American literature : in
point of fact it comprised nearly all the living American poetry at that
era. The chief names in its galaxy of stars were, Trumbull, the author
of M'Fingal, Timothy Dwight, Joel Barlow, David Humphries, Lemuel
Hopkins, William Livingston, Eichard Alsop, Theodore Dwight, and
Philip Freneau. It is now not without interest, especially as one of
the signs of those times — the taste,- tone, scope, and extent of the car-
rent indigenous poets and poetry — only sixty years ago. At that era
tJonnecticut was the focal point of poetic inspiration on this continent

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 283
navigation. The general opinion of the country had
been, all along, that he was a monomaniac, attempt
ing an impossibility. He was the standing theme of
cheap newspaper wit, and the general God-send of
orators, who were hard run for a joke. Lieutenant
Smith, who was only an echo of what passed around
him, during the period of Fulton's labors, participated
in the current contempt ; but when the news came, in
October, 1807, that he had actually succeeded — that
one of his boats had walked the waters like a thing of
life, at the rate of five miles an hour, against the cur
rent of the Hudson river — then, still an echo of the
public voice — did he greatly jubilate.
" I told you so : I told you so !" was his first ex
clamation, as he entered the house, swelling with the
account. " Well, and what is it ?" said my father.
" Fulton has made his boat go, sir ! I told you
how it would be, sir. It opens a new era in the his
tory of navigation. We shall go to Europe in ten
days, sir!"
Now you will readily understand, that in these
sketches I do not pretend to report with literal pre
cision the profound discourses of our Ridgefield sa
vant ; I remember only the general outlines, the rest
being easily suggested. My desire is to present the
portrait of one of the notables of our village — one
whom I remember with pleasure, and whom I con
ceive to be a representative of the amiable, and per-

284 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
ha.ps useful race of fussy philosophers to be found in
most country villages. He was, in fact, a sort of Yan
kee Pickwick, full of knowledge, and a yearning de
sire to raake everybody share in his learning. As
was proper, he was a prophet, an " I-told-you-so !'"'
who foresees every thing after it has happened. Un
like Mat Olmstead, who believed too little, perhaps
he believed too much : for whatever he saw in print
he considered as proved. If he ever doubted any
thing, it was when he had not been the first to reveal
it to the village. Yet whatever his foibles, I was
certainly indebted to him for many hours of amuse
ment, and no doubt for a great deal of information.
From the town oracle, I turn to the town miser.
Granther Baldwin, as I remeraber him, was threescore
years and ten — perhaps a little more. He was a man
of middle size, but thin, wiry, and bloodless, and hav
ing his body bent forward at a sharp angle with his
hips, while his head was thrown back over his shoul
ders — giving his person the general form of a reversed
letter Z. His complexion was brown and stony ; his
eye gray and twinkling, with a nose and chin almost
raeeting like a pair of forceps. His hair — standing out
with an irritable frizz — was of a rusty gray. He was
always restless, and walked and rode with a sort of
haggish rapidity. At church, he wriggled in his seat,
tasted fennel, and bobbed his head up and down and
around. He could not afford tobacco, so he chewed,
with a constant activity, either an oak chip or the

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 285
roots of elecampane, which was indigenous in the
lane near his house. On Sundays he was decent in
his attire, but on week-days he was a beggarly curios
ity. It viras said that he once exchanged hats with a
scarecrow, and cheated scandalously in the bargain.
His boots — a withered wreck of an old pair of white-
tops— dangled over his shrunken calves, and a coat
in tatters fluttered from his body. He rode a switch-
tailed, ambling mare, which always went like the
wind, shaking the old gentleman merrily from right
to left, and making his bones, boots, and rags rustle
like his own bush-harrow. Familiar as he was, the
school-boys were never tired of him, and when he
passed, "There goes Granther Baldwin!" was the in
variable ejaculation.
I must add — in order to complete the picture — that
in contrast to his elvish leanness and wizard activity,
his wife was bloated with fat, and either from indo
lence or lethargy, dozed away half her life in the
chimney corner. It was said, and no doubt truly,
that she often went to sleep at the table, sometimes
allowing a rind of bacon to stick out of her mouth
till her nap was over. I have a faint notion of hav
ing seen this myself She spent a large part of her
life in cheating her husband out oi fourpence-hd'pen-
nies,* of which more than a peck were found secreted
in an old chest, at her death.
* According to the old New England currency, the Spanish sixteenth
ofa dollar — tho sixpence of New York and the picayune of Louisiana—
11*

286 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
It was the boast of this man that he had risen from
poverty to wealth, and he loved to describe the pro
cess of his advanceraent. He always worked in the
corn-field till it was so dark that he could see his hoe
strike fire. When in the heat of summer he was obliged
occasionally to let his cattle breathe, he sat on a sharp
stone, lest he should rest too long. He paid half a
dollar to the parson for marrying him, which he al
ways regretted, as one of his neighbors got the job
done for a pint of mustard-seed. On fast-days, he
made his cattle go without food as well as himself.
He systematically stooped to save a crooked pin or a
rusty nail, as it would cost more to make it than to
pick it up. Such were his boasts — or at least, such
were the things traditionally imputed to him.
He was withal a man of keen faculties ; sagacious
ih the purchase of land, as well as in the rotation of
crops. He was literally honest, and never cheated
any one out of a farthing, according to his arithmetic
— though he had sometimes an odd way of reckoning.
It is said that in his day — the Connecticut age of blue
— the statute imposed a fine of one dollar for profane
swearing. During this period, Granther Baldwin
employed a carpenter who was somewhat notoriously
addicted to this vice. Granther kept a strict account
of every instance of transgression, and when the job

was fourpence-halfpenny. This word was formerly the shibboleth of
the Yankees— every one being set down as a New Englander who ssiid
fourpenoe-hd!pm,nAj.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 287
was done, and the time came to settle the account, he
said to the carpenter —
" You've worked with me thirty days, I think, Mr.
Kellogg?" " Yes, Granther," was the reply.
" At a dollar a day, that makes thirty dollars, I
think?" " Yes, Granther."
"Mr. Kellogg, I am sorry to observe that you
have a very bad. habit of taking the Lord's name in
vain," "Yes, Granther."
" Well, you know that's agin the law."
" Yes, Granther."
" And there's a fine of one dollar for each offense."
" Yes, Granther."
" Well — here's the account I've kept, and I find
you've broken the law twenty-five times ; that is, six
teen times in April, and nine in May. At a dollar
a time, that makes twenty-five dollars, don't it ?"
" Yes, Granther."
" So then, twenty-five from thirty leaves five : it
appears, therefore, that there is a balance of five dol
lars due to you. How'll you take it, Mr. Kellogg ?
In cash, or in my way — say in 'taters, pork, and
other things?"
At this point, the carpenter's brow lowered, but
with a prodigious effort at composure, he replied —
" Well, Granther, you may keep the five dollars,

288 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
and I'll take it out in my way, that is, in swearing !''
Upon this he hurled at the old gentleman a volley
of oaths, quite too numerous and too profane to re
peat. Now I do not vouch for the precise accuracy of
this story in its application to Granther Baldwin. I
only say it was one of the things laid to him. A
man of marked character is very apt to be saddled
with all the fioating tales that might suit him. I re
member once to have told a well-authenticated story
of Ethan Allen, when Dr. L . . ., a German professor,
being present, laughed outright, saying, " I have
heard my father tell the same story of old Baron Von
Skippenhutten, and declare that he was present when
the thing happened !"
I need not enlarge upon the adventures between
Granther Baldwin and the school-boys, who took de
light in pocketing his apples, pears, and nuts. These
things were so abundant in those days, that everybody
picked and ate, without the idea . of trespass. But
Granther's heart was sorely afflicted at these dis
pensations. He could not bear the idea of losing
a pocketful of apples, or a handful of butternuts,
chestnuts, or walnuts, even if they lay decaying in
heaps upon his grounds. As I have said, his house
and farm were close by West Lane school, and it was
quite a matter of course that his hard, unrelenting
conservatism should clash with the ideas of the
natural rights of schoolboy.?, entertained by such

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 289
free-born youths as those at this seminary. They
loved the fruit, and considered liberal pickings to be
their birthright. Had the old gentleman let them
alone, or had he smiled on them in their small pil-
ferings, they had, no doubt, been moderate in their
plunder. But when he made war on them — even
unto sticks, stones, and pitchforks — the love of fun
and the glory of mischief added an indescribable rel
ish to their forays upon his woods and orchards. I
confess to have .been drawn in more than once to
these misdoings. Perhaps, too, I was sometiraes a
leader in them. I confess, with all due contrition,
that when the old miser, hearing the walnuts rattle
down by the bushel in the forest back of his house
— knowing that mischief was in the wind — came
forth iu a fury, pitchfork in hand ; when I have
heard his hoarse yet impotent threats ; I have rather
enjoyed than sympathized with his agonies. Poor
old gentleman — let me now expiate my sins by doing
justice to his memory !
It is true he was a miser — selfish and mean by na
ture. Born in poverty, and only rising from this con
dition by threescore years and ten of toil and parsi
mony, was it possible for him to be otherwise ? What
a burden of sin and misery is often laid upon a single
soul I And yet Granther Baldwin was not wholly
lost. He professed religion, and the New Man wres
tled bravely with the Old Man. The latter got the
better too often, no doubt ; for avarice once lodged
Vol. I.— 13

290 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
in the soul is usually the last vice that capitulates to
Christianity. It so readily assumes the guise of re
spectable virtues — frugality, providence, industry,
prudence, economy — that it easily dupes the heart
that gives it shelter.
And besides, religion in its sterner exercises for
bids the pleasures of life, in which mankind generally
content the universal craving for excitement. The
moral constitution of man — the mind and the heart —
have their hunger and their thirst as well as the body.
These can not be annihilated : if they are not ap
peased in one way, they will be in another. Old Bur
ton says they are like badgers : if you stop up one
hole, they will dig out at another. And thus, if a
man is too rigid in his creed to allow the genial excite
ments of society, he is very likely to satisfy himself
with something worse. He generally resorts to se
cret indulgences of some kind, and thus lays the axe
at the root of all religion, by establishing a system of
hypocrisy. To a man thus situated, the respectable
vice of avarice is commended, for while, as I have
said, it takes the guise of various virtues, it furnishes
gratification to the desire of excitement by its accu
mulations, its growing heaps of gold, its enlarging
boundaries of land, its spreading network of bonds
and mortgages, its web of debt woven at the rate of
compound interest over the bodies and souls of raen
— debtors, borrowers, speculators, and other worship
ers of Mammon.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 291
It is SO easy therefore to be misled by this demon
of avarice, that I shall deal gently with it in Gran
ther Baldwin's case, seeing that he had so many
temptations in his nature and his position. Never
theless, I am bound to say that it so dried up the
fountains of his heart as to render him absolutely
insensible even to the idea of personal appearance —
as if God gave man his own image to wear a scare
crow's hat, and boots that a beggar would despise.
But for his avarice, he might have discovered that
want of decency is want of sense ; but for his ava
rice, his heart might have been the sun of a system,
circling around the fireside and diffusing its blessings
over each member of the family ; but for his avarice,
he might, being rich, and increased in goods, have
even enlarged his heart, and been the benefactor of
the neighborhood.
Still, I shall not parade these sins before you : let
me rather speak of the old man's virtues. He was a
firm believer in the Bible, and set the example of im
plicit submission to its doctrines, as he discovered
them. He made au open profession of his faith, and
in sickness and in health, in rain and shine, in sum
mer and winter, he sustained the established institu
tions of religion. No weather ever prevented him
from attending church, though he lived nearly two
miles from the place of worship. Often have I seen
him on a Sunday morning, facing the keen blast,
plodding his way thither, when it seemed as if his

292 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
heart must be reduced to an icicle. He attended all
funerals within the precincts of the place. He was
present at every town meeting : he paid his taxes,
civil and ecclesiastical, at the appointed day. He
kept thanksgivings and fasts — the first gingerly, and
the last with all his heart. He had a clock and a
noon-mark, and when they varied, he insisted that
the sun was wrong. He believed profoundly in arith
metic, and submitted, without repining, to its decrees.
Here was the skeleton of a man and a Christian ; all
that it wanted was a soul !

LETTER XX.
A Long Farewell to Ridgefield.
Mr DEAR 0 ***"'* *
In the autumn of 1808 an event occurred which
suddenly gave a new direction to my life, and took me
from Ridgefield, never to return to it, but as a visitor.
My narrative is therefore about to take a final leave
of my birthplace.

mSTOKICAL, AHECDOTICAL, ETC. 293
Here, my dear C . . . ., endeth the first lesson of my
life — that portion of it which pertaineth to Ridge
field. Peradventure this has been drawn out in such
length as to have taxed your patience beyond endu
rance. If such be the truth, I beg to offer as pallia
tion, that to me these scenes, incidents, and charac
ters — simple and commonplace though they be — seem
not unworthy of being recorded, for the very reason
that they are thus common, and therefore are repre
sentatives of our New England village people as they
were a brief half century ago, and as they are now.
If as such, they present a spectacle of little interest — -
I beg to suggest further, that the picture at least
affords a means of measuring the silent but steady
advance of society among us ; thus refuting the cal
umnies of the misanthrope, and vindicating the hopes
of the sincere lover of mankind. I admit that the
scale upon which my observations are made — that of
a mere country village — is small, but in proportion
to its minuteness, is the certainty of the conclusions
we may draw. A survey of a great city or a large
space of country, may be deceptive from its extent
and the complexity of its details ; but in respect to
such a community as that I have described, it is impos
sible to be mistaken. The progress there in wealth,
taste, refinement, morals — all that constitutes civiliza
tion — is as certain as the advance of time. Nor is
this village an exception to the tendency of things in
American society : it may differ in the celerity of its

294 LETTERS — BIOSKAPHICAL,
progress, but in its general experience it unquestion
ably sympathizes with New England at large, and to
some extent with the entire United States.
And one thing more : if Ridgefield is thus a repre
sentative of the New England village, I may remark
that here the comparison ends : at least, there are no
such villages in any portion of the Old World : none
where the whole people are thus independent in their
circumstances ; where all are thus educated, so far as
to be able to form just opinions upon the great ques
tions of life, in religion, government, and morals ;
none where the people, conscious of their power, are
thus in the habit of forming their own opinions from
their own reflections ; none where the majority are
thus living on their own lands and in their own tene
ments ; none where a general sentiment of equality
and good neighborhood thus levels the distinctions of
wealth and condition ; none where religion and edu
cation, left to the free will of the people, thus fur
nish, in the schoolhouses and the churches, the chief
visible and permanent monuments of society.
The view I have taken suggests also another idea,
and that is the radical difference between the consti
tution of things in our country and all others. In
all the continent of Europe, the power, genius, intel
ligence of each country is centralized in the capital
It is and has been, frora tirae iraraeraorial, the design
of kings and princes of all dynasties, to make the
seat of the government the focal point of light — of
14*

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 395
learning, taste, fashion, wealth, and influence. The
Court is not only the head but the heart of the body
politic : the country — the people at large — the limbs
and members — are but the subservient tools and'
instruments of the privileged orders.

LETTER XXI.
fHrewell to Ridgefield — Farewell to Home — Danbury — My ¦new Vocation—
A Revohttionary Patriarch — Life in a Country Store — Homesickness—
My Broilier-inAaw — Lawyer Hatch.
My dbab C ***** *
It was in the autumn of the year 1808, as I have
intimated, that a sudden change took place in my pros
pects. My eldest sister had mairried a gentleman by
the name of Cooke, in the adjacent town of Danbury.
He was a merchant, and being in want of a clerk,
offered me the place. It was considered a desirable
situation by my parents, and overlooking my me
chanical aptitudes, they accepted it at once, aud at
the age of fifteen I found myself installed in a coun
try store.
This arrangement gratified my love of change, com
mon to the young and inexperienced. At the same
time, Danbury was a much more considerable town
than Ridgefield, and going to live there naturally
suggested the idea of advancement, especially as I
was to exchange my uncertain prospects for a posi
tive profession. However, I little comprehended

296 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
what it meant to say farewell to home : I have since
learned its significance. In thus bidding adieu to
the paternal roof, we part with youth forever — words
of mournful import, which every succeeding year, to
the very end, impresses on the heart. We part with
the spring-tide of life, which strews every path with
flowers, fills the air with poetry, and the heart with
rejoicing. We part with that genial spirit which
endows farmliar objects — ^brooks, lawns, play -grounds,
hillsides — with its own sweet illusions : we bid adieu
to this and its fairy companionships. Even if, in
after life, we return to the scenes of our childhood,
they have lost the bloom of youth, and in its place
we see the wrinkles of that age which has graven its
hard lines upon our hearts.
Farewell to home implies something even yet more
serious: we relinquish, and ofl;en with exultation,
the tender providence of parents, in order to take upon
ourselves the dread responsibilities of independence.
What seeming infatuation it is, that renders us thus
impatient of the guidance of those who gave us being,
and who are on earth the brightest reflection of heav
en — making us at the same time anxious to spread our
untried sails upon an untried sea, and upon a voyage
which involves all the chances — evil as well as good —
of existence. And yet it is not infatuation — it is in
stinct. We can not always be young ; we can not all
remain under the paternal roof The old birds push
the young ones from the nest, and force them to a

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 297
trial of their wings. It is the system of nature that
impels us to go forth and try our fortunes, and it is
a kind Providence, after all, which thus endues us
with courage for the outset of our uncertain career.
I was not long in discovering that my new voca
tion was very different from what I had expected,
and very different from my accustomed way of life.
My habits had been active, my employments chiefly
abroad — in the open air. I was accustomed to be fre
quently on horseback, and to make excursions to the
neighboring towns ; I had also enjoyed large person
al liberty, which I failed not to use in rambling over
the fields and forests. All this was now changed. My
duties lay exclusively in the store, and this seemed
now my prison. From morning to night I remained
here, and as our business was not large, I had many
hours upon my hands with nothing to do, but to con
sider the weariness of my situation. My brother-in-
law was always present, and being a man of severe
aspect and large ubiquitous eyes, I felt a sort of re
straint, which, for a time, was agonizing. I had con
sequently pretty sharp attacks of homesickness, a
disease which — save that it is not dangerous — is one
of the most distressing to which suffering humanity
is exposed.This state of sin and misery continued for some
weeks, during which time I actually revolved various
plans of escape from my confinement — such as steal
ing away at night, making my way to Norwalk, get-

298 LEITERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
ting on board a sloop, and going as cabin-boy to the
West Indies. I ara inclined to think that a small
impulse rriight have set me upon some such mad ex
pedition. By degrees, however, I becarae habitu
ated to my occupation, and as my situation was eli
gible in other respects, I found myself, ere long,
reconciled to it.
The father and mother of my brother-in-law were
aged people living with him, in the same house, and
as one family. They were persons of great amiability
and excellence of character : the former. Col. Cooke,
was eighty years of age, but he had still the perfect
exercise of his faculties, and though he had ceased
all business, he was cheerful, and took a lively inter
est in passing events. His career* had been one of
* Colonel Joseph Platt Cooke, son of Eev. Samuel Cooke, of Stratfield,
now Bridgeport, was one of fourteen children, and bom Dec. 24, 1729,
(old style); Nov. 22, 1759, he was married to Sarah Benedict: he died
Feb. 3, 1816. Their children were Joseph P. Cooke, Thomas Cooke,
Elizabeth Cooke, Dauiel Benedict Cooke, and Amos Cooke — the latter,
my brother-in-law, boru Oct. 11, 1778, and deceased Nov. 13, 1810. Tho
Eev. Samuel Cooke, now (1856) of St. Bartholomew's Church, New
York, is a son of Daniel B. Cooke, who was Judge of Probate at Dan
bury for a number of years. To his brother, Joseph P. Cooke, I am in
debted for some of the following incidents.
Col. Joseph P. Cooke graduated at Yale College in 1750. He estab
lished himself in Danbury, and when tho British, under Tryon, having
landed at Campo Point, on Long Island Sound, April 25, 1777, march
ed upou that place, he was colonel of the militia there. Having advice
of the advance of tho enemy, he sent a messenger to Gen. Silliman,
giving the information he had acquired, and asking for troops, ammu
nition, and instructions. This messenger, coming suddenly upon the
invading army, was fired upon, wounded, and taken prisoner.
General Silliman, who was attached to the Connecticut militia, was
upon his farm at Fairfield, when he heard of the British expedition.
He immediately dispatched messengers to .arouse the people, and set

299
great activity and usefulness. During the Revolution
he was a colonel of the Connecticut militia, and upon
the death of Gen. Wooster, in the retreat from Dan
bury, the command devolved upon him, the next in
rank. He was greatly esteemed, not only by the com
munity, but by the leading men of the country. He
enjoyed the friendship and confidence of Washing
ton, and the acquaintance of Lafayette, Rochambeau,
and De Grasse, whom he entertained at his house. He

out himself for Reading. Here he was joined by the fiery Arnold and
the experienced Wooster : altogether they had about seven hundred
men — mostly raw militia, fresh from their farms.
So rapid was the march of the British, that the people of Danbury
were not informed of their danger, till the enemy were within eight
miles of the town. Knowing that the public stores were their object,
aud well advised of the terrors of a British marauding army, the whole
place was a scene ofthe wildest confusion and alarm. Those who could
fly, sought safety in the woods and adjacent villages, taking their wo
men and children with them. The sick aud decrepit remained, with
a few persons to take care of them.
There were uo means of defense in the place : about a hundred and
fifty militia, without ammunition, under Colonels Cooke and Hunting
ton, were there, but retired upon the approach of the enemy. Having
marched through Weston and Eeading, Tryon aud his force of two
thousand men, reached Danbury in the afternoon ofthe day subsequent
to their landing. Insult to the people and conflagration ofthe buildings,
public and private, followed. The only houses intentionally spared by
the enemy were those of the tories ; some other dwellings, however,
escaped. Nineteen houses, one meeting-house, aud twenty stores and
barns, with their contents, were destroyed.
The scenes enacted in this tragedy were in the highest degree appall
ing. Among the articles consumed were three thousand barrels of pork.
The fat of these ran in rivers of flame in the gutters, while the soldiers,
intoxicated with Uquors they had procured, yelled like demons amid
the conflagration, or reeled throiigh the streets, or lay down, hke swine,
iu by-places. It adds horror to the scene to know that a portion of the
inhabitants of the town opened their arms to the enemy, and saw with
rejoicing the ruin and vengeance wrought upon their friends and neigh
bors.

300 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
was a member of Congress under the Confederation,
and subsequently filled the various ofiices of judge of
the County Court, j udge of Probate, and. member of
the Governor's council — receiving for many years a
larger popular vote than any other individual of that
body. His style of living was liberal, and with a
large family, settled in the neighborhood, he was like
one of the patriarchs of old — dignified, tranquil —
loving and beloved. In manner and dress, he was

Early on the morning of the next day (Sunday, April 27), while the
whole country around was lighted with the flames of Danbury, Tryon,
hearing that the militia were gathering from all quarters to attack him,
began a rapid retreat, taking the route through Ridgebury and Eidge
field. Gen. Wooster, who had been joined by Col. Cooke and his men, cross
ing from Eeading, overtook the enemy about two miles north of Eidge-
fleld-street. One of his aids was Stephen Eowe Bradley, afterward,
for sixteen years, a senatorof the United States from Vermont. A smart
skirmish ensued, and forty British prisoners were taken. Unfortunate
ly, at this critical moment, Wooster fell, fatally wounded by a bullet-shot
in the groin. This caused a temporary panic, during which the enemy
pushed on toward Ridgefield. Here, however, at the head ofthe street,
they were met by the impetuous Arnold, who, with only two hundred
men behind a stone wall, boldly confronted them. After a time, they
were driven back, aud the British made their way to their point of em-
barkment. The uutimely fall of Wooster probably only saved them
from surrender, or ignominious loss and defeat.
Among the stores burned in Danbury was that of Col. Cooke — vrith
a loss of one thousand pounds. The British soldiers occupied his house,
where they had a riotous time. Au old negro slave, who was left be
hind, waited upon them, and contrived to prevent a good deal of dam
age. When the marauders heard that the Americans were coming
they took some bundles of straw, set the house on fire, and fled. The
old negro put out the flames, and thus saved his master's dwelling. For
this he had his freedom, and ever after was supported and cherished,
with the consideration due to his conduct.
The following original letter— placed at my disposal by Mrs. Stites,
granddaughter of Colonel Cooke — not only throws some pleasing light
upon his character, but it presents facts of the deepest and most tragii

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 301
Strongly marked with the Washingtonian era : he was
sedate, courteous, methodical in all his ways : he
wore breeches, knee-buckles, shoe-buckles, and a
cocked hat, to the last. The amenity and serenity
of his countenance and conduct, bespoke the refined
gentleman and disciplined Christian. His wife was
a sister of the Rev. Noah Benedict, of Woodbury,
and inherited the traditionary talent of that branch
of the Benedict family. Never have I seen a more

interest. It was written while he was at New York attending to his
duties there as a member of Congress.
{Letter from Colonel Cooke to his son Amos Cooke.-]
New York, June 3, 1785.
My deak LrrriE Son :
Your letter of the 30th ultimo oaFie safe to haud, but I had not time
to return you au answer by the same post, and this may often happen
by reason of my quarters being on Long Island. I am very glad to
hear that your mamma enjoys a tolerable state of health, and I doubt not
but that you will always be very attentive to her .comfort. Should she
in any good measure recover her strength, I fear she will undertake
some business which may be detrimental to her health. Whenever you
observe any thing of that kind, I would have you suggest tho thought
to her, in a very dutiful manner, telling her that you do it at my de
sire. Platt did very well in taking the method you mentioned for
getting Daniel to New Haven. I hope the Society will adopt some plan
for going forward with building the meeting-house, for until they do, I
wish not to see the Courts held iu Danbury. I am not, however, appre
hensive that the Assembly will repeal the act.
There are now six members of Congress, who board at Mr. Hunt's.
Our accommodations are very good, and we have no rats to annoy us.
We have been honored with a visit from the President and most of
the members of Congress, who all admire our situation, which com
mands a prospect of the whole city, of all the shipping in the harbor
and on the stocks (of which there are a very considerable number, one
of which being a ship of about three hundred tons, we saw launched
yesterday), and of every vessel that either goes out or comes in, of
which we see forty or fifty under sail at the same time. But amidst all
these pleasing scenes there is something that damps our spirits, and

303 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
pleasing spectacle than this reverend couple — at the
age of fourscore — ^both smoking their pipes in the
evening, with two generations around them, all look
ing with affectionate veneration upon the patriarchal
pair. My brother-in-law was a man of decided character,
and his portrait deserves a place in these annals. He
was graduated at Yale College, and had been qualified
for the bar, but his health was feeble, and therefore
- — chiefly for occupation — he succeeded to the store

casts a gloom over the whole. At about half a mile's distance from our
lodgings, lies the wreck of a ship which was the Jersey Prison Ship,
from which so many thousands of our poor countrymen, who had the
misfortune during the late war to be taken prisoners, were thrown. I
wish I could say buried, for then some part of the British inhumanity
would have been concealed, but that was not the case. The banks near
which this Prison ship lay are high and sandy. The dead bodies of our
friends, only wrapped up in old blankets, were laid at the bottom of the
bank, and the sand drawn over them. Soon after we came to live upon
Long Island, several of us took a walk that way, and were struck with
horror at beholding a large number of human bones, some fraginents of
flesh not quite consumed, with many pieces of old blankets lying upon the
shore. In consequence of a representation made to Congress, they were
soon after taken up and buried. But walking along the same place not
many days ago, we saw a number more which were washed out, and at
tempting to bury them ourselves, we found the bank full of them.
Such conduct has fixed a stain upon the British character which will not
soon be wiped off.
The weather has been so very tempestuous this day, that none of us
have attempted to eross the ferry, which is the first time we have failed
since we have been here.
It gives me pleasure to observe by your last letter that you improve
both in writing and composing ; aud I hope you will give frequent in
stances of improvement in the same way.
Give my kind love to your mamma and all the family, and tell Platt
I intend to write him by the next post. These from your affeotionate
yarent, Joseph P. Cooke.
Master Amos Cooke.

" HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 303
which his father had kept before him. Being in easy
circumstances, he made no great efforts in business.
Though, as I have said, he was of stern aspect, and
his manners were somewhat cold and distant, he was
always a gentleman, and his substantial character that
of a just and kind man. In business, he treated peo
ple respectfully, but he never solicited custom: he
showed, but never recommended his goods. If his
advice were asked, he offered it without regard to his
own interest. He gave me no instructions, but left
me to the influence of his example. He was of a
highly religious turn of mind, not merely performing
the accustomed duties of a Christian, but making de
votional books a large part of his study. Perhaps
he was conscious of failing health, and already heard
the monitory voice of that disease which was ere long
to terminate his career.
Nevertheless, he was not insensible to the pleasures
of cultivated society, and however grave he might
be in his general air and manner, he was particularly
gratifled with the visits of a man, in all things his
opposite — Moses Hatch, then a leading lawyer in
Danbury. Mr. Cooke was tall, emaciated, somewhat
bent, with a large head, and large melancholy eyes.
His look was gravity itself, his air meditative, his
movements measured, slow, and wavering. 'Squire
Hatch,* on the contrary, was rather short, full-chested,
'-* Moses Hatch was born at Kent, Litchfield county. Conn., a. d. 1780,
and died at the same place in 1820, on his return from Saratoga, whers

304 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
perpendicular, and with a short, quick, emphatic step.
His eye was small, gray, and twinkling ; his lips sharp
and close-set, his hair erect and combed back, giving
to his face the keen expression of the old-fashioneci
flint, set in a gun-lock. You expected, of course, on
the least movement to see the fire fly ; he was, in
fact, a man celebrated for his wit no less than his
learning, and he seldom opened his mouth without
making a report of one or both.
This person was a frequent visitor to the store, and
the long winter which comraenced soon after I en
tered upon my apprenticeship, was not a little enh-
vened by his conversations with my master. It fre
quently happened during the deep snows, that the
day passed without a single customer, and on these
occasions. Lawyer Hatch was pretty sure to raake us
a visit. It was curious to see these two men — an
tipodes in character — attracted to each other as if by
contradiction. My brother-in-law evidently found a
pleasant relaxation in the conversation of his neigh
bor, embellished with elegant wit and varied learn
ing, while the latter derived equal gratification from
the serious, solid, manly intellect of his friend. In
he had been for the benefit of his health. He graduated at Yale in
1800, with high honors, delivering a poem on the occasion. As a
lawyer, he always thought the cause of his client just, and with that
feeling, he generally succeeded in cases before a jury. He seems to
have had u. sort of somnambulio habit, and when au interesting case
was on his mind, or he was preparing for it, he would go through with
his argument in his sleep, addressing the court and jury, with much
the same method he usually adopted in the actual trial.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 305
general ' ie former was the talker, and the latter the
listener ; yet sometimes the conversation became dis
cussion, and a keen trial of wit, versus logic, ensued.
The lawyer always contended for victory, my brother-
in-law for the truth : the one was influenced, no doubt,
by the easy practices of his profession ; the other by
the stern habit of his conscience and character.
The precise form of these conversations has van
ished from my mind, but some of the topics remain.
I recollect long talks about the embargo, non-inter
course, and other Jeffersonian measures, which were
treated with unsparing ridicule and reproach : anec
dotes and incidents of Napoleon, who excited mingled
admiration and terror, with observations upon public
men, as well in Europe as in America. I remember
also a very keen discussion upon Berkeley's theory of
the idealty of nature, mental and material, which so
far excited my curiosity, that finding the " Minute
Philosopher," by that author, in the family library,
I read it through with great interest and attention.
The frequent references to Shakspeare, in these con
versations, led me to look into his works, and — ^incited
by the recommendations of my sister — I read them
through, somewhat doggedly, seeking even to pene
trate the more dif&cult and obscure passages.
It frequently happened that my master — owing to
tne influence of disease — was affected with depres
sion of spirits, and the lawyer's best wit and choicest
stories were expended without even exciting a smile.

306 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
Not discouraged, but" rather stimulated by such ad
versity, he usually went on, and was pretty sure, at
last, to strike the vein, as Moses did the water in
the rock, and a gush of uncontrollable laughter was
the result. I remember in one instance, Mr. Cooke
sat for a long time, looking moodily into the fire,
while 'Squire Hatch went on telling stories, chiefly
about clergymen, of which he had a great assortment.
I will endeavor to give you a sketch of the scene.
" I know not why it is so," said the lawyer, " but
the fact is undeniable, that the raost amusing anec
dotes are about clergymen. The reason perhaps is,
that incongruity is the source of humorous associa
tions, and this is evidently the raost frequent and
striking in a profession which sets apart its members
as above the mass of mankind, in a certain gravity
of character and demeanor, of which the black coat
is the emblem. A spot upon this strikes every eye,
while a brown coat, being the color of dirt, hides
rather than reveals what is upon its surface. Thus
it is, as we all know, that what would be insipid as
coming from a layman, is very laughable if it hap
pens to a parson. I have heard that on a certain
occasion, as the Rev. J . . . M . . . . was about to read
a hymn, he saw a little boy sitting behind the chor
ister in the gallery, who had intensely red hair. The
day was cold, and the little rogue was pretending to
warm his hands by holding them close to the chor
ister's head. This so disconcerted the. minister, that

307
it was some minutes before he could go on with the
services. The only effect of this was, that my master drew
down one corner of his mouth.
"I have heard of another clergyman," said the
lawyer, " who suffered in a similar way. One day,
in the very midst of his sermon, he saw Deacon
B . . . . fast asleep, his head leaning back on the rail
of the pew, and his mouth wide open. A young
fellow in the gallery above, directly over him, took
a quid of tobacco from his mouth, and taking a care
ful aim, let it drop plump into the deacon's mouth.
The latter started from his sleep, and went through
a terrible paroxysm of fright and choking before he
recovered." Mr. Cooke bit his lip, but was silent. Lawyer
Hatch — although he pretended to be all the while
looking into the fire — ^got a quick side glance at the
face of his auditor, and continued —
" You know the Rev. Dr. B .... of B., sir ? Well,
one day he told me that as he was on his way to New
Haven, he came to the house of one of his former pa
rishioners, who, some years before, had removed to
that place. As he was about to pass it, he remem
bered that this person had died recently, and he
thought it meet and proper to stop and condole with
the widow. She met him very cheerfully, and they
had some pleasant chat together.
" ' Madam,' said he, after a time, ' it is a painful

308 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
subject — but you have recently met with a severe
loss.' " She instantly applied her apron to her eyes, and
said — -
" ' Oh yes, doctor ; there's no telling how I feel.'
" ' It is indeed a great bereavement you have suf
fered.' " ' Yes, doctor; very great indeed.'
" ' I hope you bear it with submission ?'
"'I try tu ; but oh, doctor, I sometimes feel in
my heart — Goosy, goosy gander, where shall T
wander !' "
The lawyer glanced at the object of his attack, and
seeming to see a sraall breach in the wall, he thought
it time to bring up his heavy guns. He went on :
" There's another story about this same Dr. B . . . .
which is amusing. Sorae years ago he lost his wife,
and after a time he began to look out for another.
At last he fixed his mind upon a respectable lady in
a neighboring town, and commenced paying her his
addresses. This naturally absorbed much of his time
and attention, and his parish became dissatisfied.
The deacons of the church held several conferences
on the subject, and it was finally agreed that Deacon
Becket, who had the grace of smooth speech, should
give the reverend doctor a hint of what they deemed
his fearful backsliding. Accordingly, the next Sab
bath raorning, on going to church, the deacon over
took the parson, and the following dialogue ensued :

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 309
" ' Good morning. Dr. B  '
" ' Good morning,' Deacon Becket.
" ' Well, doctor, I'm glad to meet you ; for I want
ed to say to you, as how I thought of changing my
pewl' " ' Indeed 1 And why so ?'
" ' Well, I'll tell you. I sit, as you know, clear
over the back-side of the meeting-house; and be
tween me and the pulpit, there's Judy Vickar, Molly
Warren, Experience Pettybone, and half a-dozen old
maids, who sit with their mouths wide open, and they
catch all the best of your sarmon, and when it gets to
me, it's plaguey poor stuff I' "
My brother-in-law could hold out no longer : his
face was agitated for a moment with nervous spasms,
and then bending forward, he burst into a round,
hearty laugh. The lawyer — who made it a point never
to smile at his own jokes — still had a look upon his
face as much as to say — " Well, sir, I thought I
should get my case."
It may be easily imagined that I was greatly inter
ested by these conversations and discussions, and al
ways felt not a little annoyed, if perchance, as some
times happened, I was called away in the midst of a
good story or a keen debate, to supply a customer
with a gallon of molasses, or a paper of pins. I know
not if this gave me a disgust of my trade, but it ia
very certain that I conceived for it a great dislike,
nearly from the beginning. Never, so far as I can
YoL. I.— 15

310 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
recollect, did I for one moraent enter heartily mto
its spirit. I was always, while I continued in it, a
mere servile laborer, doing ray duty, perhaps, yet
with a languid and reluctant heart. However, I got
through the winter, and when the sumraer came, Mr.
Cooke nearly gave up personal attention to busi
ness, in consequence of ill health, and we had a new
clerk, H. N. Lockwood, who was older than myself, and
took the responsible charge of the establishment. He
was an excellent merchant, and to me was a kind and
indulgent friend. He afterward settled in Troy, where
I am happy to say he is still living, and in the en
joyment of an ample fortune, and an excellent repu
tation as a father, friend. Christian, and neighbor —
the natural fruit of good sense, good temper, and
good conduct.

LETTER XXII.
Visit to New HavenA-Tlie City — Yale College — My Uncle's House — John
Allen — First view of the Ocean — The Court-house — Dr. Dwight — Pro
fessor Silliman — Chemistry, Mineralogy, Geohgy — An,eodote of Colonel
Gibbs — EU Whitney — 77te Cotton-gin — Tlie Gun-factory.
Mt dear 0 ***** *
In the sumraer of 1809 I took a short tour with
my brother-in-law and my sister, for the health of
the former. This to me was a grand expedition, for
among other places* we visited was New Haven, then
a sort of Jerusalem in my imagination — a holy place.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 311
containing Yale College, of which Dr. Dwight was
president. Besides all this, one of my uncles and
some of my cousins lived there, and better still, my
brother was there, and then a member of the college.
Ah, how my heart beat when we set out ! Such
was the vividness of my perceptions, that I could fill
a book with recollections of that short, simple journey
¦ — the whole circuit not exceeding one hundred and
twenty miles. But, my dear C . . . ., be not alarmed I I
shall not inflict them upon you : a few brief notes will
be the entire burden you shall bear, on this occasion.
I pass over the journey to New Haven, and permit
you at once to enter the city. I was of course duly
impressed with its beauty, for then, as now, it was
celebrated for a rare union of rural freshness and
city elegance. I have recently, in passing through
it, had a transient view of its appearance, and may
safely af&rm that after pretty large observation in
the Old World, as well as in the New, I know of no
town or city more inviting ; especially to one whose
j udgment is cultivated by observation and study, and
whose feelings are chastened by reflection and expe
rience. There is a taste of the university in the long
shady streets, fit for the walks of Plato, and a metro
politan air in the pubhc buildings and squares, sug
gestive of ideas of the Forum. There is something of
the activity and bustle of commerce in a part of the
town, and at one point, all the spasm of a railway
station. In other portions of the place, and over

312 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
three- fourths of its area, there is the quietude and
repose proper to a seat of learning. Here the houses
seem suited to the city, each with a garden, breathing
the perfumes of the country.
At the period of the visit I am describing. New
Haven had not one half its present population, and
many of the institutions which now adorn it did not
exist. The college, however, was then, as now, a
leading literary institution in the country. To me
it was an object of special reverence, as my grand
father and his five sons had all been graduated there.
My brother and two of my cousins were at this time
among its inmates. Of course I looked with intense
curiosity at the several buildings that belonged to it.
The splendid mineralogical cabinet, now the first in
the United States, was not there ; nay, the science ol
mineralogy hardly existed at that time. The Trumbull
Gallery of Paintings, comprising many of the best
productions of that distinguished painter, and en
riched by nearly two hundred portraits of celebrated
men, has since been added. Nevertheless, many
things here excited my admiration. I looked with
particular interest — I may add with some degree of
envy — at the students, who seemed to me the privi
leged sons of the earth. Several were pointed out
as promising to be the master-spirits of their age and
generation ; in some cases I have since seen these an
ticipations fulfilled.
Next to the college I visited the bay, and for the

313
first time actually sto.od upon the shore of that liv
ing sea, which through my whple childhood had
spread its blue bosom before me, in the distant ho
rizon. A party of three or four of us took a boat, and
went down toward the entrance of the bay, landing
on the eastern side. From this point the view was
enchanting — it being a soft summer afternoon, and
the sea only breathed upon by light puffs of wind
that came from the west. I looked long, and with a
species of entrancement, at its heaving and swelling
surface : I ran my eye far away, till it met the line
where sky and wave are blent together : I followed
the lulling surf as it broke, curling and winding,
among the mimic bays of the rocky shore. I looked
down into the depths of the water, and perceived the
finny inhabitants, gliding through the dim recesses,
half sheltered in their tranquil domain by groves of
sea-weed, or the shadows of the deepening waters.
It was a spectacle not only full of beauty in itself,
but to me it was a revelation and a fulfillment of the
thousand half-formed fancies, which had been strug
gling in my longing bosom from very childhood.
Our party was so occupied with our contempla
tions, that we had scarcely noticed a thunder-storm,
which now approached and menaced us from the
west. We set out to return, but before we had got
half across the bay, it broke full upon us. The
change in the aspect of the sea was fearful : all its
gentleness was gone, and now, black and scowling.

314 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
it .seemed, as if agitated by a demon, threatening
every thing with destruction that carae within its
scope. By a severe struggle, we succeeded in reach-
mg Long Wharf, though not without risk. The gen
eral impression of the whole scene upon my mind,
may be gathered from the following lines, though
you must not consider me as the literal hero of the
story, nor must you regard this description as a ver
itable account of the day's adventure :
I stood
Upon a rook that wall'd the Deep :
Before me roU'd the boundless flood —
A Glorious Dreamer in its sleep !
'Twas summer morn, and bright as heaven ;
And though I wept, I was not sad,
For tears, thou knowest, are often given
When the o'erflowing heart is glad.
Long, long I watch'd tlie waves, whose whirls
Leap'd np the rooks, their brows to kiss.
And dallied with the sea-weed curls
That stoop'd and wooed the proffer'd bliss.
Long, long I listen'd to the peal
That whisper'd from the pebbly shore,
And like a spirit seem'd to steal
In music to my bosom's core.
And now I look'd afar, and thought
The Sea a glad and glorious thing ;
And fancy to my bosom brought
Wild dreams upon her wizard wing —
Her wing that stretch'd o'er spreading waves,
And chased the far-off flashing ray.
Or hovering deep in twilight oaves
Caught the lone mermaid at her play.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 315
And thus the sunny day went by.
And night came brooding o'er the seas ;
A thick cloud swathed the distant sky.
And hollow murmurs fiU'd the breeze.
The white-gull, screaming, left the rook.
And seaward bent her glancing wing,
While heavy waves, with measured shock,
Made the dun cliff with echoes ring.
How changed the scene ! The glassy deep.
That slumber'd in its resting-place.
And, seeming in its morning sleep
To woo me to its soft embrace —
Row waken'd, was a fearful thing—
A giant with a scowling form.
Who from his bosom seem'd to fling
The blacken'd billows to the storm !
The wailing winds in terror gush'd
From the swart sky, and seem'd to lash
The foaming waves, which madly rush'd
Toward the tall cliff with headlong dash.
Upward the ghttering spray was sent.
Backward the growling surges whirl'd.
And splinter'd rocks by lightnings rent,
Down thundering midst the waves were hurl'd.
I trembled, yet I would not fly ;
I fear'd, yet loved, the awful scene ;
And gazing on the sea and sky,
SpeU-bouud I stood the rocks between.
'Twas strange that I — a mountain-boy —
A lover of green fields and flowers —
One who with laughing rills could toy.
And hold companionship for hours
With leaves that whisper'd low at night.
Or fountains bubbhng from their springs —

316 LE'ITDTRS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
Or summer winds, whose downy flight
Seem'd but the sweep of angel wings :
'Twas strange that I should love the clash
Of ocean in its maddest liour,
And joy to see the billows dash
O'er the rent cliff with fearful power.
'Twas strange — but I was nature's own,
Uncheok'd, untutor'd ; in my soul
A harp was set, that gave its tone
To every touch without control.
The zephyr stirr'd, in childhood warm.
Thoughts like itself, as soft and blest;
And the swift fingers of the storra,
Woke its own echo in my breast.
Aye, and the strings that else had lain
TJntouch'd, and to myseff unknown.
Within my heart, gave back the strain.
That o'er the sea and rock was thrown.
These lines were written many years after the
events I have been, describing, yet the feelings and
fancies they portray were suggested, at least in part,
by this my first visit to the sea, and my first adven
ture upon its capricious bosom. I have since crossed
the Atlantic sixteen times, and am therefore familiar
with all the aspects of the ocean — but never have
they impressed rae so deeply and so vividly as upon
this occasion.
The next object that attracted my attention was
the Court-house. Here, for the first time, I saw a
"Court" — its awful judges, holding the issues of life
and death, and sitting high and apart upon the

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 317
"Bench;" here also were twelve hard-looking men,
exercising the high functions of that glorious Saxon
institution, called a "Jury." Here also was that terri
ble man — the "sheriff," and a poor wretch in apen—
the " prisoner at the bar." The trial had already be
gun, and a lawyer, with a powdered head, was telling
the court — the jury and the judges — what a desperate
scoundrel he was. He proved him to be a burglar of
the very worst description. I felt my heart burn with
indignation that such a monster should ever have
been at large among society. Pretty soon another
lawyer got up, and made it as clear -as light, that the
man was entirely innocent. My feelings were now
totally changed, and I felt as if he were a most de
serving and most injured person. The jury at last
went out, and after an anxious half hour, returned
with a verdict of " guilty." The court then sen
tenced the culprit to " Simsbury Mines"* for five years.
* The place called Simsbury Mines, or Newgate Prison, sixteen miles -
northwest of Hartford, is actually within the limits ofthe town of Gran
by, the latter having been set off from Simsbury in 1786. The mines
consist of deep excavations made in the rocks, for copper ore, by an
English company, about 1760. . The speculation ended iu disaster, and
the caverns began to be used for a prison about the time of the Eevo
lutionary war. In 1790, by a legislative act, it was established as a per
manent state-prison underthe name oi Newgate— f.mV/Me buildings be
ing erected over the caverns for the purpose. I visited the place about
the year 1811 or 1812. The prisoners were heavily ironed with hand
cuffs and fetters. In some cases several were fastened togetlier Ijy
chains attached to a bar of iron. Most of them worked in a smithy,
where each man was chained to his forge or bench. Sentinels, with
loaded muskets, stood ready to fire in case of revolt.
The object of the prison was not only to shut np felons, aud thus to
protect society, but to create au idea of horror in the publie mind, and
15*

318 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
I had been three hours in the court-room, and my
interest had been wound up to the highest pitch.
When I left it, my head was in a- whirl ; ray feelings
also were painfully excited. I had deemed that a
Court of Justice was holy ground ; that judges were
saints, and jurors grave men, deeply impressed with
the duty of a religious fulfillraent of their high func
tions. I had imagined lawyers to be profoundly
skilled in the art of discerning and developing the
thus by a moral influence to prevent crime. The abandoned copper
mines were the sleeping place of the criminals. The descent to these
infernal regions was by a trap-door, leading down a ladder sixty or
seventy feet, through one ofthe shafts. At the bottom was a consider
able space, with short galleries leading in various directions. Here were
wooden berths, filled with straw. The prisoners descended the perpen
dicular ladder in their irons, and thus slept at night. They rose at four
in the morning, and went to their rest at four iu thc afternoon. Their
food was principally salt pork, salt beef, and beans. The caverns were
ventilated by a large shaft, descending into a well, near the center of the
excavations. Strange to say, the health of the prisoners was generally
excellent. As if these gloomy regions did not inspire sufficient terror, it ap
pears that the neighborhood, according to popular ideas, was for a long
time peopled with beings from the other world. At one period certain
persons seemed to be bewitched, hearing singular noises, and seeing
spirits in the air. More recently, tho crying ofa child and other strange
sounds were heard iu an uninhabited house. Several persons came
here to investigate the subject, and upon hearing the noises, suddenly
entered the place, bnt found nothing. Two young men one night slept
iu the house, and about midnight, heard something rush in at the win
dow, like a gnst of wind, upsetting thc chairs, shovel and tongs, aud
then pass down the ash-liolc. What could it have been but Old Sooty
himself? It is not astonishing that the very name oi Simsbury Mines did, in fact,
inspire ideas of peculiar horror. When I was a boy, it was regarded as
next door to that place which it is not polite to name. Malefactors, it is
said, were very shy of practicing their profession in Connecticut, for
fear of getting into this dreadful place. However, after a time, a total
change of ideas spread over the community, iu regard to prisons : it was

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 319
truth. I had indulged a fancy that justice and judg
ment would here reign in every heart, appear in every
face, and guide every tongue. How different seemed
the reality 1 The general impression on my mind
was a horror of the place, and all the proceedings :
it appeared to me that lawyers, judges, jury, sheriff,
and all, were a set of the most heartless creatures I
had ever seen — pretending to seek justice, and yet
without a single sentiment of humanity. Even de
cency seemed to be outraged, in the treatment of wit
nesses, and in jibes cast at the poor prisoner, who,
however guilty, rather invited sympathy than ridi
cule. I must confess that I have never got entirely
over this my first impression : the atmosphere of a
court-room is to me always depressing — though, I am
aware, that the manners here have undergone a great
and favorable revolution in modern times.
On Sunday I went to the college chapel, and heard
Dr. Dwight preach. He was then at the zenith of his
fame — a popular poet, an eloquent divine, a learned
author, and, crowning all, president of the college.

discovered that vindictive punishment was alike wrong in principle
and effect; that, in fact, it hardened the sinner, while it should always
be the object of punishment, in restraining the felon for the benefit of
society, to exercise a moral infiuence for his reformation. This idea must
be classed among the Larger humanities which have enlightened and en
nobled tbe public spirit of modern times.
Some thirty years ago, in conformity with these views, Simsbury
Mines ceased to be a State Prison, aud an excellent institution for that
object was established iu the beautiful town of Wethersfield. Soon after
this period, Simsbury Mines were again wrought for copper, and I be-
.Uevc with success.

320 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
He was unquestionably, at that time, the most con
spicuous man in New England, filling a larger space
in the public eye, and exerting a greater influence
than any other individual. No man, since his time,
has held an equal ascendency, during his day and
generation, in New England — except perhaps Daniel
Webster. In allusion to his authority in matters ec
clesiastical as well as civil — for he was a statesman,
and exercised his influence in politics, not obtrusive
ly, but by his counsel — he was farailiarly called by
political adversaries, Old Pope Dioight.
In person he was about six feet in height, and of
a full, round, manly form. His head was modeled
rather for beauty than craniological display. Indeed,
phrenology had not then been discovered, and accord
ingly great men were born without paying the slight
est attention to its doctrines. Dr. Dwight had, in
fact, no bumps : I have never seen a smoother,
rounder pate than his, Avhich, being slightly bald
and close shorn, was easily examined. He had, how
ever, a noble aspect — a full forehead and piercing black
eyes, though partly covered up with large spectacles in
a tortoise-shell frame — for he had been long afilicted
with a morbid sensibility of the organs of sight. On
the whole, his presence was singularly commanding,
enforced by a manner somewhat authoritative and
emphatic. This might have been offensive, had not
his character and position prepared all around to tol
erate, perhaps to admire it. His voice was one oi

331
the finest I ever have heard from the pulpit — clearj
heart}', sympathetic — and entering into the soul like
the middle notes of an organ. The subject of his
discourse I do not recollect ; trained, however, as I
had been from childhood, to regard him as second
only to St. Paul — I discovered in it full justification
of his great fame.*
The house of my uncle, Elizur Goodrich, where
* The life of Timothy Dwight is full of interesting materials for the
biographer. His family connections, his precocity, his development, his
performances, his heart, his mind, the details of his career — all abound
in those striking lights and shades, which rivet the attention.
His father was a merchant of Northampton, his mother daughter of
Jonathan Edwards — the most renowned metaphysician America has pro
duced. He was born May 14, 1752. He learned the alphabet of his moth
er at one lesson : at six he read Latin ; at eight was fitted for college ;
at thirteen he entered Yale ; at nineteen he began his great poem of the
Conquest of Canaan, and finished it iu three years, though it was not
published till 1785. He taught rhetoric, matliematics, and oratory in
the college for six years. After this he returned to Northampton, and
in 1777, married Miss Woolsey, sister of Wm. W. Woolsey, for many
years a distinguished merchant in New Haven. The same year he was
Ucensed to preach, aud became chaplain in the army, which he joined
at West Point. Here he wrote his celebrated song of Columbia. In 1781
he was a member of tlie State legislature ; and in 1783 was settled as
minister at Greenfield. His meeting-house was visible to the naked eye
from the windows of our house at Eidgefield. In this village he wrote
his fine poem of Greenfield Hill, which appeared in 1794. The next year
he succeeded Dr. Stiles as President of Yale College, a post which he
filled till his de'ath, Jan. 11, 1317, at the age of 64.
Dr. Dwight's works are numerous and valuable : besides poems, es
says, &o., he wrote several volumes of Travels, descriptive of scenes aud
places iu New England, which he had visited during college vacations.
His greatest work is Theology Explained and Defended. This has been
extensively published here and in England, and is greatly admired for
its argument, its eloquence, and its happy manner as well of statement
as of illustration.
The following memoranda, respecting this great man, have been mostly
furnished me by his nephew, Mr. Theodore Dwight, now of New York
a856).

323 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
we staj'cd, was then rather the focal point of society
iu the city — partly because of his ofiicial position
and genial manners, and partly, also, on account of
the character of his wife, who, to say the least, in a
happy union of the highest womanly qualities, was in
ferior to few ladies of her time. Every evening there
was here a levee of accidental visitors, consisting of
The Dwight family in this country is descended from Johu Dwight,
who came from England in 1687, and settled at Dedham, in Massachu
setts. The grandfather of Dr. Dwight built Fort Dummur, the first set
tlement within the bounds of Vermont, about 1723-4. Here the father
of Dr. Dwight was born. He was a man of immense strength and
stature. During the Eevolutionary war he went to New Orleans and
up the Mississippi, where he purchased land, intending to remove there
with his large family. The tract extended some miles along the bank,
and included the site of the present city of Natchez ; but he soon afker
died ofa fever. A son who accompanied him was lost at sea, and the
evidence of his title to the land was never found.
The news of the death of the father of the family was about a year
in reaching them. It was a summer day, and one of the elder sons
was making hay in a field, when one of the smallest children, who had
been present at its announcement, came tottering through the grass,
with the sad story. The youth threw his pitchfork into thc air, and
exclaimed, " Theu we're all ruined !" and such was the force of his emo
tions, that his mind never recovered from the effects to the day of his
death. Timothy, the eldest son, was absent with the army. He now (1778) went
to reside in Northampton, with his mother, and assumed the manage
ment of the affairs of the family. He carried on their two farms, and
at tho same time conducted a school, and preached in the adjacent towns.
A number of young ladies and gentlemen frora different parts of the
country, were among his pupils. He had two ushers — one of whom was
Joel Barlow. Gen. Zechariah Huntington and Judge Hosmer were his
pupils ; and a number of young men went to him from Yale College,
after the capture of New Haven. He was at that time very acceptable
as a preacher, often filling the pulpit where his grandfather, Jonathan
Edwards, had officiated. He not only directed the business ofthe farms,
but often worked in the field with the men, hia brother Theodore being
at his side. The latter, from whom these facts are derived, mentioned
(.hat the hired men used to contest for the privilege of mowing next to
fimothy, " that they might hear him talk" — fluent, interesting, and in-

333
the distinguished men of the city, and often including
other celebrities. Araong the noted individuals I saw
there, was John Allen, brother of Mrs. Goodrich — a
man of eminent talents and most imposing person,
being six feet six inches high, with a corresponding
power of expression in his form and face. He had
been a member of Congress, and is recorded in its
Btructive conversation being at that time, as through life, one of his
characteristics. The family comprised thirteen children, nearly all of whom were now
at home. The house was in King-street, and next to it, ou the east, was
that which had been the residence of Jonathan Edwards during his
ministry. There David Brainard had died, nursed in his last sickness
hy one of the daughters of Mr. E. , to whom he was engaged. In the
biirying-ground was the grave of Brainard, which was then, and long
after, annually visited by some of his Indian converts, who used to make
long journeys through the wilderness to sit a few hours in silent medi
tation and mourning, over his ashes.
Timothy Dwight had been trained from his earliest years among the
simple but refined society of Northampton, and was familiarized with
the history of the French and Indian wars, which had been the sources
of so much suffering to the friends and ancestors of those around him.
The impressions which he received from suoh scenes and examples, were
permanent on his character and life. He entered the American revolu
tionary army as a chaplain to General Putnam's regiment, with the ardor
of a youthful Christian patriot ; preached with energy to the troops iu
camp, sometimes with a pile ofthe regiment's drums before him, instead
ofa desk. One of his sermons, intended to raise the drooping cour
age of the country, when Burgoyne had come down from Canada with
his army, aud was carrying all before him — was published, and a copy
read to the garrison in Fort Stanwix, on the Mohawk river, when Sir
John Johnsou had cut off their communications with Albany, and threat
ened their destruction. The venerable Colonel Platt, many years after,
affirmed thijt it was owing to this sermon, that the garrison resolved to
hold out to the last extremity, and made the sally in which they routed
and drove off their besiegers, delivering Albany from imminent danger,
and contributing materially to the defeat of the British in their cam
paign of 1777.
Many of the personal traits of Dr. Dwight were interesting. He wrote
like copperplate : suoh was the rapid flow of his ideas that he could em
ploy at the same time two amanuenses, by dictating to them on totally

324 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
annals by the title of " Long John." He was in
person, as well as mind, a sort of Anakim among the
members of the House.*
Here also I saw Dr. Dwight, who was perhaps even
more distinguished in conversation than in the pulpit.
He was indeed regarded as without a rival in this
respect : his knowledge was extensive and various,
and his language eloquent, rich, and flowing. His
fine voice and noble person gave great effect to what
he said. When he spoke, others were silent. This
arose in part from the superiority of his powers, but
in part also from his raanner, which, as I have said,
was somewhat authoritative. Thus he engrossed, not
rudely, but with the willing assent of those around
him, the lead in conversation. Nevertheless, I must
remark, that in society the imposing grandeur of
different subjects. He labored daily in the garden, or in some other way,
holding it to be the duty of evei-y man to labor, bodily, so as to insure
the perfection of life and enjoyment. He advised professional men, in
traveling, aud on other occasions, to enter into easy and kindly conver
sation with strangers, as a means of gaining knowledge, and cultivating
a kindly feeling in society. He constantly taught the doty of courtesy
and politeness ; he loved his country and our free institutions, and in
culcated the duty of a constant endeavor to elevate and ennoble tho
public sentiment. He despised all meanness, and especially that dem
agogism, which, under a pretense of patriotism, is seeking only for self-
promotion, and which is even willing to degrade the people, in order to
gratify personal ambition. It is impossible to measure the good done
by suoh a man by his personal example, by his influeBoe upon the stu
dents under his care for twenty years, and by the impress of his noble
character upon the important institution which was the theater of hia
labors. * Hon. John Allen was a native of Great Barrington : he settled in
Litchfield in 1785, and died in 1813. He was not only a member of Con
gress, but also of the State Council for several years. His sou, Johu
W. Allen, of Cleveland, has been a member of Congress.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 335
his personal appearance in the pulpit, was softened
by a general blandness of expression and a sedulous
courtesy of manner, which were always conciliating,
and sometimes really captivating. His smile was
irresistible. In reflecting upon this good and great man, and
reading his works in after-time, I am still impressed
with his general superiority — his manly intellect, his
vast range of knowledge, and his large heart ; — yet, I
am persuaded that, on account of his noble person —
the perfection of the visible man — he exercised a pow
er in his day and generation, somewhat beyond the
natural scope of his mental endowments. Those who
read his works only, can not fully realize the impres
sion which he raade upon the age in which he lived.
His name is still honored : many o^ his works still
live. His Body of Divinity takes the precedence, not
only here, but in England, over all works of the
same kind and the same doctrine ; but at the period
to which I refer, he was regarded with a species of
idolatry by those around him. Even the pupils of
. the college under his presidential charge — those who
are not usually inclined to hero-worship — almost
adored him. To this day, those who had the good
fortune to receive their education under his auspices,
look back upon it as a great era in their lives.
There was indeed reason for this. With all his
greatness in other respects. Dr. Dwight seems to have
been more particularly felicitous as the teacher, the

336 LETTERS — ilOGRAPHICAL,
counsellor, the guide, of educated young men. In
the lecture-room all his high and noble qualities
seeraed to find their full scope. He did not here
confine hiraself to merely scientific instruction : he
gave lessons in morals and manners, and taught,
with a wisdom which experience and common sense
only could have furnished, the various ways to in
sure success in life. He gave lectures upon health —
the art of maintainihg a vigorous constitution, with
the earnest pursuit of professional duties — citing his
own example, which consisted in laboring every
day in the garden, when the season permitted, and
at other times at some mechanical employment. He
recoraraended that in intercourse with raankind, his
pupils should always converse with each individual
upon that subject in which he was most instructed,
oDserving that he never met a man of whom he could
not learn soraething. He gave counsel, suited to the
various professions ; to those who were to becorae
clergymen, he imparted the wisdom which he had
gathered by a life of long and active experience : he
counseled those who were to become lawyers, phji'si-
cians, merchants — and all with a fullness of knowl
edge and a felicity of illustration and application, as
if he had actually spent a life in each of these voca
tions. And more than this : he sought to infuse into
the bosom of all, that high principle which served
to inspire his own soul — that is, to be always a gen
tleman, taking St. Paul as his model. He considered

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 337
not courtesy only, but truth, honor, manliness in all
things, as essential to this character. Every kind of
meanness he despised. Love of country was the con
stant theme of his eulogy. Religion was the soul of
his system. God was the center of gravity, and man
should make the moral law as inflexible as the law
of nature. Seeking to elevate all to this sphere, he
still made its orbit full of light — the light of love,
and honor, and patriotism, and literature, and ambi
tion — all verging toward that fullness of glory, which
earth only reflects and heaven only can unfold.
Was not this greatness ? — not the greatness of ge
nius, for after all Dr. Dwight was only a raan of large
coraraon sense and a large heart, inspired by high
moral principles. He was, in fact, a Yankee, Christian
gentleman — nothing more — nothing less. Where
could such character — with such lights and shades-
be produced, except here in our stern, yet kindly cli
mate of New England ? Can you find such a biog
raphy as this in France ? in Germany ? in Old Eng
land, even ? You may find men of genius, but hardly
of that Puritan type, so well illustrated in the life and
character of Timothy Dwight. Shake not your head,
then, my dear C  , and say that nothing good can
come of this, our cold, northern Nazareth I
Another man, whom I now saw for the first time,
was Professor Silliman, then beginning to fill a large
space in the public eye. He had recently returned
from a visit to Europe, but did not publish his '.' Jour

338 LETTERS-f-BIOGRAPHICAL,
nal of Travels" till the next year. It was a great
thing then to go to Europe, and get back safe. It
was a great thing then to look upon a person who
had achieved such an enterprise, an'd especially a man
like the professor, who had held coraraunication with
the learned and faraous people on the other side ofthe
Atlantic. But this , was not all : Professor Silliman
had begun to popularize the discoveries of the new
science of Chemistry. What wonders were thus dis
closed to the astonished people ! By raeans of blow
pipes, flasks, and crucibles, all nature seemed to be
transformed as by |.he spells ofa sorcerer. The four old-
fashioned eleraents were changed — proved,, in short,
to be impostors,, having been passed off from tirae
iraraeraorial as solid, substantial, honest eleraents,
while they were in fact, each and all, only a parcel
of compounds ! Fire was no longer fire ; it was only
an incident of combustion : heat was a sensation, and
at the bottom of the whole matter was a thing called
caloric. Earth, that stable, old-fashioned footstool of
man and his Maker, was resolved into at least fifty
ingredients ; air was found to be made up of two
gases, called oxygen and nitrogen — one being a sort
of good angel, supporting life and combustion, and
the other a kind of bad devil, stifling the breath, put
ting out the candle, and destroying vegetation. As
to water, that, too, was forced to confess that it had
hitherto practiced an imposition upon the world, for
instead of being a simple, frank, honest element, it

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 339
was composed of oxygen and hydrogen — the latter
of such levity as to be fit for little else than inflating
balloons !
What a general upsetting of all old-fashioned ideas
of creation was this ! It is scarcely possible for any
one to conceive what a change has taken place,
through the influence of chemistry, within the last
half century. Every substance in nature has been
attacked, and few have preserved their integrity.
This science has passed from the laboratory to the
workshop, the manufactory, the farm, the garden, the
kitchen. Everybody is now familiar with its discov
eries, its principles, its uses. Chemistry, which was
a black art when I was a boy, is in the school-books
now ;' and Professor Silliman was the great raagi-
cian that brought about this revolution in our coun
try. He had just commenced his .incantations, and
already the world began to echo with their wonders.
With what engrossing admiration did I look at him,
when- he came into the room, and I heard his name
announced 1
At this time, his lectures were not only attended
by the youth of the college, but by a few privileged
ladies and gentlemen from the world without. I
went with one of my cousins, entertaining the comraon
idea that chemistry was much the same as alchemy —
an art whose chief laboratory was in the infernal re
gions. I had read something about the diableries of
Friar Bacon, seeking by compact with the Great

330 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
Blacksraith below, to discover the philosopher's
stone, but hitting by accident upon gunpoAvder ;
and this forraed my general notion of the science.
When I entered the lecture-room, and saw around,
a furnace, an anvil, a sink, crucibles, flasks, retorts,
receivers, spatulas, a heap of charcoal, a bed ol
sand, with thermometers, pyrometers, barometers,
hydrometers, and an array of other ometers, with
a variety of odd-looking instruments — the use of
which I could not imagine — I began to feel a strange
sort of bewilderment. This was turned to anxietj'',
when I perceived in the air an odor that I had never
experienced before, and which seeraed to rae to
breathe of that pit which is nameless as well as bot
tomless. I asked one of the pupils who sat near me
about it, and he said it was sulphureted hydrogen,
whereupon I became composed ; not that I knew any
better what it was, but as they had a narae for it, I
supposed it was of earth and not of the other place.
At last the lecturer began. I was iraraediately at
tracted by his bland manner and beautiful speech.
All ray horrors passed instantly away, and in a few
moments I was deep in the labyrinths of alkalies,
acids, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, &c. I learned
how sulphur with an ic meant one thing, with an ous,
another, with an et, another, and so on. Finally, the
professor got beyond my reach, and I was completely
lost in a maze of words, too deep for my comprehen
sion. But now the theory was done, and the experi-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 331
ments began. The lights were put out. A piece of
wire was coiled in a glass jar, filled with oxygen. A
light was applied — and fizz — fizz — fizz, went the wire,
actually burning like a witch-quill ! That was chem
istry, brought down to the meanest capacity. We
all clapped hands, as they do now at Niblo's. Af
ter this, one or two of the pupils took exhilarating
gas, and thereupon seemed to enjoy the most deli
cious trances. Still other experiments followed, and
everybody was convinced that the new science was
not a thing to be feared, as smelling of necromancy,
but that in fact it was an honest science, fit to be
introduced even into the domestic arts. Since that
time it has actually transformed the whole business
of life, producing benefits which no words can ade
quately describe.
Geology followed close upon the heels of chemis
try. This, too, which Avas confined to the arcana of
science in my boyhood, and was even there a novelty,
is noAV a school study. PrOfessor Silliman has been
a leader in this also. He had comraenced at the peri
od of which I am speaking, but he had only advanced
into its precincts — the science of mineralogy. This
had begun to be popular in the centers of learning .
young collegians went into the mountains with bags
and hammers, and came back loaded with queer stones.
In fact, hunting specimens took the place of hunting
bears, deer, and foxes, and was pursued with all the
ardor of the chase. Ladies, turning blue, had pieces

333 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
of marble, ore, quartz, and other things o^ the kind,
on their mantel-pieces, and those who were thorough
ly dyed, had little cabinets, all arranged on Haiiy's
principles of crystallography. Let me tell an anecdote
in illustration of the spirit of the age.
About this- time Colonel Gibbs, originally from
Rhode Island, but who now lived on Long Island,
near Flushing, became an enthusiast in the new sci
ence. He was in fact the founder of the splendid min
eralogical cabinet at present belonging to Yale Col
lege. While he was in the very crisis of his fever, he
chanced to be traveling in a stage-coach among one of
the remote rocky districts of Ncav Hampshire. Coming
at last to a region, which looked promising of min
eralogical discoveries, he stopped at a small, obscure
tavern, borroAved a hammer, and went into the mount
ains. Here he soon became engrossed in his research
es, which were speedily rewarded by several interest
ing specimens. In his enthusiasm, his own exertions
were not sufficient, so that he employed several per
sons to assist hira in knocking the rocks to pieces.
At the end of a week he had completely exhausted
his cash. He then paid the workmen in coats, panta
loons, boots, shoes, and at last in shirts. These finally
carae to an end, and he paid in promises, in no de
gree abating his zeal. By this time he had collected
.three sacks of stones, which it took six men to carry.
The people around did not coraprehend him, and of
course supposed liini to be insane. One day, while

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 333
he chanced to be in the tavern, an acquaintance of
his came along in the stage-coach, and the two eager
ly exchanged salutations. The keeper of the hotel,
seeing this, took the stranger aside, and said :
" You seem to be acquainted with this gentleman ?"
" Yes ; I know him : it is Colonel Gibbs, of Long
Island." " Well, he said his name was Gibbs, but he is as
mad as a March hare."
" Indeed : what makes you think so ?"
" Why he has been here a fortnight knocking all
Monadnock to pieces. He has spent all his money,
and given away his clothes, till he hasn't a shirt to
his back. If you are a friend of his, you ought to
make his family acquainted with his situation, so
that he may be taken care of"
" Oh, I understand. The colonel is not insane :
he is a mineralogist."
" A what ?"
" A mineralogist — a collector of curious stones."
" Are they to eat ?"
" No ; they are specimens to be preserved for sci
entific purposes."
" Ha, ha ! what quiddles there are in this world !
Every little while, one on 'em comes- along here.
Last year, a man, called a professor from' Cambridge,
stopped here a week, ketching all the bugs, beetles,
and butterflies he could find. About the sarae time,
another man came, and he Avent into the mountains.
Vol. I— 16

334 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
pulling up all the odd weeds and strange plants he
met with. He took away a bundle as big as a hay
cock ; and now this Colonel somebody is making a
collection of queer stones 1 I think the people down
your way can't have much to du, else they wouldn't
take to such nonsense as this."
I give you this story, not vouching for its precise
accuracy, but as characterizing the zeal for modern sci
ence, in this its birthday. The truth is, that somewhat
more than half a century ago, physical science had al
most completely engrossed the leading minds in Eu
rope. Discouraged or disgusted with diving into the
depths of metaphysics, the learned world eagerly be
gan to bore into the bowels of the earth : instead of
studying mind, they pounded and pondered upon mat
ter. Chemistry, mineralogy, geology, and a whole
family of ologies, became the rage. This transat
lantic epidemic migrated to America. It was in full
vigor araong the, learned here, at the tirae I speak
of In the benighted parts of the country, as in the
precincts of Monadnock, this raania still appeared
to be madness. There was method in it, how
ever. The modern discoveries of chemistry, min
eralogy, &c., as already intimated, have wrought a
change in human knowledge, astonishing alike for
the enlargement of its boundaries, the novelty of its
revelations, and the certainty and precision which
have taken the place of doubt and conjecture. The
hills, the mountains, the valleys, with their founda-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 335
tions — the layers of rocks which have been hidden
from the "beginning" — have been examined, and their
secrets laid open to the world. Here have been found
the traces of kingdoms — vegetable, mineral, and an
imal — belonging to other creations, such as leaves of
perished races of plants, bones of extinct races of ani
mals, rocks built before the flood. These have all
become familiar to us, and their inscriptions have dis
closed wonders of which mankind had never before
dreamed. Thus within the last fifty years, new sci
ences have been created, and have lavished their
wonders upon the astonished world. Champollion
discovered the means of interpreting the mystic signs
upon the monuments of Egypt ; but behold a greater
wonder : Cuvier and his followers have enabled us
to read the lines written by God upon the rocks which
were laid deep in the foundations of the earth, mil
lions of ages ago 1
When Dr. Webster came to revise his Dictionary
in 1840, after a lapse of twelve years, he found it ne
cessary to add several thousand words, in order to
express the ideas which had recently passed from
technological science, into our common language.
Similar additions were required, a few years after, in
the preparation of another revised edition. Nothing
can more strikingly mark the progress of knowledge,
not merely in the minds of scholars, but among the
masses, during the period to which I refer, than this.
There is no half century like the last, in the history

336 ' LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
of mankind. Nor is the end yet. The thirst foi
discovery seeras only to have begun.
Indeed, such is the celerity of our progress, that
some heads grow giddy. They begin to see double : old
men have visions, and young maidens dream dreams.
Materialism pervades the air, and the new spiritual
world is a mere mesmeric phantasmagoria of this
earthy ball, which we inhabit. Spirits, now-a-days,
push about tables, rap at- the door, turable over the
chairs, learn the alphabet, and spell their names with
emphasis. Lusty spirits are they, with vigorous mus
cles, hard knuckles, and rollicking humors! They
will talk, too, and as great nonsense as any alive.
If these are the only kind of souls to be met with,
in their seven heavens, one would hardly like to go
there. Really, these mesmeric spirits seem very much
of the ardent kind, and I suspect have more alcohol
of the imagination than real immortality about them.
Another remarkable person whom I saw at my un
cle's house was Eli Whitney, the inventor of the cotton-
gin. He was a large raan of rather full habit, slightly
round-shouldered, and doubling himself forward as he
sat. His face was large and slightly oval ; his nose
long and hooked ; his eye deep-set, black, and keen ;
his look penetrating and prolonged. His hair was
black, though sprinkled with gray, for he was now
some five and forty years old ; his skin was smooth,
sallow, and pallid. Altogether, his appearance was
striking, the expression of his face having a deep

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 337
thoughtfulness about the brow, tempered by a pleas
ant smile at the corners of the mouth.
In conversation he was slow, but his thoughts
were clear and weighty. His knowledge seemed at
once exact and diversified : he spoke more of science
than literature ; he was not discursive, but logically
pursued trains of thought, shedding light at every
sentence. Few men have lived to more purpose
than he. Before his time, cotton was separated from
the seed by hand, and hence its price was thirty to
fifty cents a pound. He produced a machine, by
which a series of hooked, iron teeth, playing through
openings in a receiver, performed the labor of five
hundred men in a day ! An immense facility in the
production of cotton has been the result, with a cor
responding fall in its price and extension of its use,
throughout Christendom.
In 1790,* cotton was hardly known in this country ;
* Cotton appears to have been used in India for making cloths as
early as 440 b. o., and probably long before that time, yet here the art
remained isolated for ages. The Arabians at length brought India cot
ton to Adula, on the Bed Sea, whence it was introduced into Europe.
The cotton manufacture was brought there by the Moors of Spain in the
ninth century. Raw cotton was first introduced into England from the
Levant, chiefly for candlewicks. The cotton manufacture was brought
hither by the refugees from the Low Countries in the time of Queen
Elizabeth. For a long time, the fabrics produced were coarse ; the fiuci
cotton goods — mushus, calicoes, chintzes, being largely supplied frora
India. In 1780, Mr. Wyatt first began to spin cotton by machinery. Ir,
1742, the first cotton-spinning mill was built at Manchester, the motive-
power being mules and horses. The entire value of the cotton manu
facture of England iu 1760 was a million of dollars : now it is probably
two hundred millions of dollars.
In 1790, Mr. Slater put up at Pawtuoket, E. I., the flrst ootton-mill in

338 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
in 1800, the whole product of the United States was
eighty-five thousand bales ; in 1855, it is three millions
and a half of bales. Nearly half the nations of the
earth, seventy-five years ago, went naked or in rags,
or in bark or skins ; but they are now clothed in cot
ton. Then a shirt cost a week's work ; now a man
earns two shirts in a day. Noav, during every twelve
hours of daylight, the spindles of the world produce
threads of cotton sufficient to belt our globe twenty
times round at the equator! And Eli Whitney was
the Chief Magician who brought this about.
At the tirae I speak of, his Gun-factory, two miles
north of New Haven, was the great curiosity of the
neighborhood. Indeed, people traveled fifty miles to
see it. I think it employed about a hundred men.
It was symmetrically built in a wild romantic spot,
near the foot of East Rook, and had a cheerful, taste
ful appearance — like a sraall tidy village. We visited
it of course, and my admiration was excited to the
utmost. What a bound did my ideas raake in me
chanics, from the operations of the penknife, to this
miracle of machinery ! It was, at the time, wholly
America. In 1802, the first cotton factory was erected in New Hampshire.
In 1.804, the first power-loom was introduced at Waltham ; in 1822, the
first cotton factory was built at Lowell. The cotton manufactures of
the United States now amount to sixty-five millions of dollars a year I
In 1789, about one million pounds of cotton were produced in the Uni
ted States ; in 1792, Whitney perfected his gin for cleaning cotton ; in
1810, the United States produced eighty-five millions pounds of cotton :
in 1820, one hundred and sixty millions; in 18C0, three hundred and
fifty millions ; in 1855, probably fourteen hundred millions. The Uni
ted States aro now the chief cotton producers for thc world.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, E'lC. 339
engaged in manufacturing muskets for the govern
ment. Mr. Whitney was present, and showed ms
over the place, explaining the various processes.
Every part of the weapons was made by machinery,
and so systematized that any lock or stock would fit
any barrel. All this, which may seem no wonder
now, was remarkable at the time, there being no sim
ilar establishment in the country. Among other
things, Ave here saAV the original model of the Cotton-
gin,* upon which Mr. Whitney's patent Avas founded.
* Eli Whitney was born at Westborough, Mass., in 1765, of parents in
the middle ranks of life. He showed an early propensity to mechan
ics, first making a very good fiddle, aud then mending fiddles for the
neighborhood. He once got his futlier's watch, and slily took it to
pieces, but contrived to put it together .ngain, so as not to bo detected.
At the age of thirteen he made a table-knife to match the set, one of
which had been broken. During the Eevolutionary war he took to nail-
making, nails being very scarce, and made :i profitable business of it. He
then made long pins for ladies' bonnets, walking-cunes, &c. At the age
of nineteen he began to think of college, and surinountiug-various obsta
cles, entered A'ale in 1789, having been fitted in part by Dr. Goodrich,
of Durham. In college he displayed great vividne.-^s of imagination in
his compositions, with striking mechanical talent— mending, on a cer
tain occasion, some philosophical apparatus, greatly to the satisfaction
and surprise of the Faculty.
In 1792 he went to Georgia, as teacher in the fiimily of Mr. B. . ..
On his arrival, he found that the place was supplied ; happily hc fell
under the kind care and patronage of Mrs. Greene, widow of Gen. G.
Hearing the planters lament that there was no way of separating cotton
from the seed but by hand, aud that it took a slave a whole day to elean
a pound, he set privately to work, and after a time produced his gin,
which was to make such a revolution in the worhl. In this process, he
was obliged to make his own wire. On disclosing his discovery, the
planters saw at once the vast field of enterprise open to them. Whitney
took immediate steps to secure a patent, and made arrangements to man
ufacture gins, but a series of misfortunes and discouragements defeated
him. The history of his career at this period is a mehiucholy. story of
efforts baffled, hopes disappointed, and engagements violated, disclo
sing the most shameful wrongs aud outrages on the part of Individ-

3-10 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,

LETTER XXIII.
Ihirham — History of Connecticut- -Distinguished Families qf Durham— .
The Chaunceys, Wadsworths, Lymans, Goodriches, Austins, t&c. — Woodr-
bury— Bow Romance becomes History — Bev. Noah Benedict — Judge
Smith.
Mt dbak 0******
Having spent about a. week at New Haven, we
proceeded to Durham, an old-fashioned, sleepy town
of a thousand inhabitants. Its history lies chiefly in
the remarkable raen it has produced — the Chaun-
nr-ls, and even of courts and legislatures. He instituted sixty suits in
Georgia for violations of his rights, and was not able to get a single de
cision until thirteen years from the commencenient ! Thus, in fact, tho
great benefactor of the cotton interest of the Soitth, only derived years
of misery and vexation from his invention.
In 1798, through the influence of Oliver Wolcott, Secretary of the
Treasury, he obtained a contract for the manufacture of arms for the
United States, and then established his factory at Whitneyville. He
was eight years in producing ten thousand pieces. At length, however,
his measures being completed, his establishment was oue of the most
perfect in the world, and the arms he provided were probably the best
then made in any country.
. In 1822, he applied for a renewal of his patent for the cotton-gin. It
was estimated that the value of one hundred millions of dollars had then
been added to the lauds of the South by this invention, while he had
reaped only sorrow and embarrassment ; yet he failed, most of the
eiuthern members of Congress opposing his request I
In 1817, he married a daughter of the celebrated Pierpont Edwards,
Judge of the District Court for the State of Connecticut. In 1822, he
was attacked with disease, which terminated his career in 1825. His
character, like lifs life, was remarkable : though a refined scholar, he
was a skillful mechanic — no man in his shop being able to handle tools
more de-xterously than himself: though possessing a fiue imagination,
and a keen inventive faculty, he had a perseverance in pursuing his
plans to completion, that nothing could arrest. He was at once ener
getic and systematic; dignified, yet courteous ; large in his views, yet

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 3^1
ceys,* celebrated in the literary, clerical, official, and
professional annals of New England, and I may add,
of the country at, large ; the Wadsworths, no less
noted in various commanding stations, military and
civil, public and private ; the Lymans, renowned in
the battle-field, the college, the pulpit, and the sen
ate ; the Austins — father and son — to Avhose talent
and enterprise Texas owes her position as a member
of this Union.

precise in detail ; a profound thinker, and scrutinizing nature and its
phenomena with amazing depth of thought, yct coming at last with the
docility of a child to the Christian's oonfeesion — " I am a sinner, may
God have mercy upou me !"
* Whoever would understand the true history of Conuecticat, should
not confine his reading to general works on this sulijeot, but should
look into the local histories and genealogical memoranda of towns and
villages, of whicb there are now agreat number. Agood collection may
be found in the Library ofthe Hartford Atheneum. If any one desires .
to know the annals of Durham, let hira read the sermon delivered by
Professor W. C. Fowler at that place, Doo. 29, 1847, and printed at
Amherst, Mass., 1848. The notes will prove a revelation, not of history
only, but of something like romance. The number of great men pro
ceeding from this sraall town, in times past, is not only striking but
instructive, as it suggests and illustrates the manner in which Connec
ticut has exerted a powerful infiuence upou this country — the United
Statcs — I might even say upon this continent. Araong the families of
Durham, noticed by Professor Fowler, are the following :
The Chaunceys. — Nathaniel Chauncey, grandson of President Chaun
cey, of Harvard College, was born at Hatfield, Mass., 1681, was gradu
ated at Yale in 1702— belonging to tho first class that graduated in that
college, all of whom became ministers. He was ordained at Durham iu
1711, and died there 1756. His son, Elihu Chauncey, lived iu Durham,
aud was » man of high character and large infiuence. His daughter,
Catherine, married Dr. Goodrich,,who was my grandfather. His sou,
Charles Chauncey, settled at New Haven, and was a man of extensive
learning and great ability. He became attorney-general of the State
and judge of tbe Superior Court. He received the title of LL.D. from
the college at Middlebury ; aud died 1828. "Among his children were
Charles Chauncey, LL.D., distinguished as an emineiit lawver and re-
16*

34-2 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
To this list of remarkable names, I trust I may ada
that of the Goodriches, without the imputation of
egotism, for historical justice demands it. At the
time I visited the place, nearly all the family had
long since left it. My grandfather — Dr. Goodrich — ¦
died in 1797, but my grandmother was living, as
well as her daughter, Mrs. Smith, wife of Rev. David
Smith, the clergyman of the place, who had succeed
ed to my grandfather's pulpit.
I had never any great fancy for genealogies, so I
did not study the broad-spreading tree of the family,
its roots running back to the time of Godric the Saxon
- — the great Adam of the race — as is duly set forth

fined gentleraan, settled at Phihadolphia, and died 1849; Elihu Chaun
cey, a distinguished merchant of Philadelphia, died 1847. Many others,
descendants ofthe Durham Chaunceys, attained distinction.
The Wadsworths. — Among the Durham AVadsworths, were the follow
ing : Col. James, from Farmington, born 1675, filled various offices, civil
and military, and was much honored aud respected in his time. Gen
eral James Wadsworth, grandson of the preceding, became major-
general and member of Congress during the Eevolutionary war, died
1817, aged 87. Jaraes Wadsworth, nephew ofthe preceding, born 1768,
founded the groat Wadsworth estate in western New York, and distin
guished himself by his successful labors in behalf of school education ;
he died 1844. Other members of this branch of tho family have reached
high and honored celebrity.
The Lymans. — Phineas Lyman, born at Durham, 1716, becarae raajor-
general ; gained the victory at Lake Georg'e, in the French and Indian
war, for Gen. William Johnson (who received five thousand pounds
aud a baronetcy therefor), -and performed various other military exploits.
He projected a settlement in the Southwest, and died in West Florida,
1775. The history of his fiunily is full of tragic interest. Other mem
bers ofthe family were distinguished.
Tlte Goodriches. — See Fowler's notes, above mentioned ; also Hollis-
ter's History of ConnectioMt, vol.ii. pp. 634, etc.
The Austins.--¥oT this remarkable family, consult also Fowler's notes.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 343
in King William's Doomsday-Book. Two old bache
lors of the place — a little quaint and starch, but studi
ously polite and very gentleman-like, with a splendid
farm, and a house embellished with old oak carvings
— told me something about it, and made it out, by a
long chain of links, that I was their great,, great, double
cousin ; that is, on my mother's, as well as my father's
side. My grandmother also explained to me, that
somewhere since the building of Babel, her family was
blent with the Griswolds, whence I got my middle
name — in token of which she gave me a reverend
silver-headed cane, marked I. G., that is, John Gris
wold, who was her great-grandfather. Of course, I
have piously kept this antediluvian relic to the pres
ent day.
I trust I have all due respect for this my little, fat,
paternal grandmother, and who has already, by the
way, been introduced to your notice. She was now
quite lame, having broken her leg some years before,
and appeared to me shorter than ever ; nevertheless,
she was active, energetic, and alive to every thing that
was passing. She welcomed me heartily, and took
the best care of me in the world — lavishing upon me,
without stint, all the treasures of her abundant larder.
is to her Indian puddings — alas, I shall never see
I. heir like again ! A comfortable old body, she was in
all things — and as I have before remarked, took a
special interest in the welfare of the generation of
descendants risinsr ud around her. When she saw

344 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
me eating with a good appetite, her benignant grand
motherly face beamed like a lantern.
She was a model housekeeper, and as such had great
administrative talents. Every thing went right in the
household, the garden, the home lot, the pasture, and
the little farm. The hens laid lots of large fresh
eggs, the cows gave abundance of milk, the pigs were
fat as butter ; the wood-pile was always full. There
was never any agony about the house : all was me
thodical, as if regulated by some law of nature. The
tall old clock in the entry, although an octogenarian,
was still staunch, and ticked and struck Avith an em
phasis that enforced obedience. When it told seven
in the morning, the breakfast came without daring to
delay even for a minute. The stroke of twelve
brought the sun to the noon -mark, and dinner to the
table. The tea came at six. At sunset on Saturday
evening, the Aveek's work was done, and according to
the Puritan usage, the Sabbath was begun. All sud
denly became quiet and holy. Even the knitting-
work was laid aside. Meditation was on every brow ;
the cat in the corner sat with her eyes half shut, as
if she too were considering her ways.
On the morning of the Holy Day, all around was
silent. The knife and fork were handled quietly, at
the table. The toilet, though sedulously performed,
was made in secret. People walked as if they had
gloves on their shoes. Inanimate nature seemed to
know that God rested on that day, and hallowed it.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 345
The birds put on a Sunday air : the cows did not
low from hill to hill as on other days. The obstre
perous hen deposited her egg, and cackled not. At
nine o'clock, the solemn church bell rang, and in the
universal stillness, its tones swelled over the village
like a voice from above. At ten, the second bell
rang, and the congregation gathered in. There, in
the place she had held for forty years, Avas my good
grandmother, in rain and shine, in summer and in
winter. Though now well stricken in years, and the
mother of staunch men — their naraes honored in the
pulpit, the senate, and at the bar — she still faltered
not in the strait and narrow path of duty. She
was strong-minded, and showed it by a life which ele
vated, ennobled, and illustrated the character of the
mother, the wife, the woman, as she had learned to re
gard it. It was pleasant to see with what affectionate
reverence the people saluted her, as if, in addition to
the love they bore her, she still . carried with her re
membrances of her now almost worshiped husband.
Many years she lived after this, but she is now num
bered with the dead. Let her portrait have a place
in these pages as a fine specimen of the New England
wife of the olden time.
As to my uncle and aunt Smith, I may remark that
they were plain, pious people, the former worthily fill
ing the pulpit of my grandfather, and enjoying a high
degree of respect, alike from his position and charac
ter. Besides" attending to his parochial duties, he fit-

346 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
ted young men for college. Among his pupils were
Sarauel D. Hubbard, late Postraaster-general of the
United States, Dr. Dekay, the naturalist. Commodore
Dekay, and other persons who attained distinction.
As a man, he was distinguished for his cheerful, frank,
friendly manners : as a preacher, he was practical,
sincere, and successful. I must mention a story of
him, among my pulpit anecdotes. As sometimes hap
pens, in a congregation of farmers during midsum
mer, it once chanced that a large number of his people
fell asleep — and in the very midst of the sermon.
Even the deacons in the sacramental seat had gone
cosily to the land of Nod. The minister looked around,
and just at that moment, the only person who seemed
quite aAvake, was his eldest son, David, sitting in the
minister's pew by the side of the pulpit. Pausing a
moment and looking down upon his son, he exclaim
ed, in a powerful voice —
"David, wake up!"
In a moment the whole congregation roused them
selves, and long did they remeraber the rebuke. In
after-times, when, through the temptations of the
devil and the weakness of the fiesh, during sermon-
time, their sight became drowsy, and dreams floated
softly over their eyelids, then would come to mind the
ominous sound, " David, wake up !" and starting from
their slumbers, they would shake themseH-es, and fix
their eyes on the preacher, and wrestle with their in
firmities like Jacob — sometimes, though not always,

HISTORICAL, an:ecdotical, ETC. 347
prevailing like Israel. I need only add in respect to
this excellent old gentleman, that he is still living, at
the age of eighty-nine, and last year (1855) preached
at the capitol in Washington to an attentive and grat
ified audience.
During our stay of two or three weeks at Durham,
my brother-in-law was so ill as to need the advice
of a skillful physician. Accordingly I was dispatch
ed on horseback to Middletown, a distance of eight
or ten miles, for Dr. 0 . . . ., then famous in all the
country round about. On my way I met a man of
weather-beaten complexion and threadbare garments,
mounted on a lean aud jaded mare. Beneath him
was a pair of plump saddlebags. He had all the
marks of a doctor, for then men of this profession
traversed the country on horseback, carrying with
them a collection of pills, powders, and elixir.s, equiv
alent to an apothecary's shop. A plain instinct told
me that he was my man. As I was about to pass
him, I drew in my breath, to ask if he were Dr.
O . . . ., but a sudden bashfulness seized me : the pro
pitious moment passed, and I went on.
Ou arriving at the house of Dr. 0 . . . ., I learned
that he had gone to a village in the southwestern
part of the town, six or eight miles off. " There !"
said I to myself " I knew it Avas he : if I had only
spoken to him !" However, reflection was vain. I
followed to the designated spot, and there I found
that he had left about half au hour before, for another

348 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
village in the central part of the town. I gave chase,
but he was too quick for me, so that I was obliged
to return to Durham Avithout him. " Ah !" I thought,
"how much trouble a little courage would have saved
me !" In fact, I took the incident to heart, and have
often practiced to advantage upon the lesson it sug
gested, which is, never to let a doctor, or any thing
else, slip, for the want of asking an opportune ques
tion. This Dr. O . . . . made several visits to Durham, and
I remember to have heard my brother-in-law once
ask him whether he was a Brunonian* or a Cullenite ;
to which he replied, smartly — " Sir, I am a doctor
* About this time, the " spotted fever" appeared along the Connec
ticut river, aud a change in the general character of fevers took place,
there being now a tendency to typhoid, instead of inflammatory, symp
toms, as had been the case before. These circumstances embarrassed and
baifled the profession. In general, however, they followed their procliv
ities, and either physicked or stimulated, as their doctrines dictated. In
point of fact, one practice killed and cured about as well as the other.
At all events, the plagne raged for some years at certain places and at
particular seasons, and thus society was wrought into a state of frenzy
upon the two modes of treatment. At a soraewhat later date — about
1812 — a family that held to brandy, would hardly hold intercourse with
another which held to jalap. At Hartford, Doctors Todd and Welles,
who stimulated, were looked upon as little better than infidels by
those who believed in Dr. Bacon and purgatives. These divisions even
caught the hues of political parties, and alcohol became democratic,
while depletion was held to be federal. In the end it proved that both
systems were right and both wrong — to a certain extent. Experience
showed that the true mode of practice was to treat each ease according
to its symptoms. The fitness of a physician for his profession, was,
under these circumstances, manifested by the sagacity with which he .
found his way out of the woods. Dr. 0 . . . , was one of those who, at
an early stage of the difficulty, being a doctor himself, that is. being gui
ded by good sense, aud not by slavery, to a system — arrived at the true
mode of practice.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 349
myself!" The pith of this answer will be felt, when
it is known that at this period, and indeed for some
years after, there was a schism in the medical profes
sion of this region, which became divided into two
parties ; one of them adopting the theory and prac
tice of John Brown,* that life is a forced state, de
pending upon stimuli, and hence that disease and
death are to be constantly combated by stimulants.
According to this theory, even certain fevers were to
be treated with brandy, and in extreme cases, with a
tincture of Spanish flies — internally administered!
The other followed the theory of Cullen, who adopt
ed the opposite practice of purgatives and depletion,
more especially in fevers. A real frenzy ensued, and
* John Brown was born at Dunse, Scotland, 1735. He studied med
icine with Cnllen, then the leading man ofthe profession in Great Brit
ain. After a time he produced his Elements of Medicine, in Latin, de
signed to overthrow the system which Cullen had produced. Its general
doctrine, as stated above, was that life is a forced state, only sustained
by the action of external agents operating upon the body, every part of
which is furnished with a certain amount of excitability. He discarded
all drugs, and confined himself to alcohol — wine, brandy, &o. — for one
set of diseases, and' opium for the opposite set. The simplicity of the
doctrine and the ability with which it was set forth, gave it for a time
a fatal currency, not only in Europe but in America. Thc celebrated
Dr. Beddoes, among others, adopted and propagated it. The system,
however, after a time, fell into disrepute. Brown died in 1788, a victim
of intemperance, probably the result of his medical system.
William Cullen was boru in Lanarkshire, Scotland, 1712, and having
studi-ed medicine, hc practiced with credit at Glasgow. In 1756, he be
came Professor of Chemistry at the University of Edinburgh, where he
greatly distinguished himself. In 1763, hc succeeded Dr. Alston as
Professor of Medicine. As a teacher, his popularity was unbounded.
His personal character was distinguished for amiableness and purity :
his medical works for a time exercised a powerful inflaeuce, and he is
still regarded as having greatly advanced tho science of medicine, though
some of his theories have been modified and others rejected.

350 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
the medical profession, as well as society, were in
volved in a sort of temporary insanity.
At length we departed from Durham, and took
our way homeward, through a series of small towns,
arriving at last at Woodbury. Here we remained a
week or ten days, being hospitably entertained by
the Rev. Noah Benedict, my brother-in-law's uncle.
He lived in a large, low, old-fashioned house, embow
ered in elms, and having about it an air of antiquity,
comfort, and repose. He was himself very aged,
nearly eighty years old, I should judge. He was,
like my own lineage, of the orthodox faith, and
sometimes officiated in his pulpit, though he had now
a colleague. I need not describe him, further than to
say that he was a fine old man, greatly beloved by
his parish, and almost adored by his immediate con
nections. Close by, in a sumptuous house, lived
his son, Noah B. Benedict, then a leading lawyer of
the State. Half a mile to the south, in an antique,
gable-roofed mansion, dwelt his daughter, the wife of
Nathaniel Smith, one of the judges of the Supreme
Court, and regarded as the intellectual giant of his
tirae. I have good reason to remember the place, for
it is now the home of one of my sisters, who married,
many years later, the only child of its founder — long
since gathered to his fathers.
The week of our sojourn at Woodbury flew on
golden wings -f, ith me. The village itself was after
my own hea/t. It lies inw, small tranquil valley, its

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 351
western boundary consisting of a succession of gentle
acclivities, covered with forests ; that on the east is
formed of basaltic ledges, broken into wild and pic
turesque forms, rising sharp and hard against the hori
zon. Through the valley, in long serpentine sweeps,
flows a stream, clear and bright — now dashing and
noAV sauntering ; here presenting a rapid and there a
glassy pool. In ancient times it was bordered by
cities of the beaver ; it was now the haunt of a few
isolated and persecuted muskrats. In the spring and
autumn, the wild-ducks, in their migrations, often
stooped to its bosom for a night's lodging. At all
seasons it Avas renowned for its trout. In former
ages, when the rivers, protected by the deep forests,
/ ran full to the brim, and when the larger streams
were filled to repletion with shad and salmon, this
was sometimes visited by enterprising individuals of
their race, which shot up cataracts, and leaped over
obstructing rocks, roots, and mounds, impelled by an
imperious instinct to seek places remote from the sea,
where they might deposit in safety the seeds of their
future progeny. In those days, I imagine, the acci
dents and incidents of shad and salmon life, often
rivaled the adventurous annals of Marco Polo or Rob
inson Crusoe.
There was, in good sooth, about this little village,
a singular union of refinement and rusticity, of cul
tivated plain and steepling rock, of blooming meadow
and dusky forest. The long, Avide street, saving the

353 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
highway and a few stray paths, here and there, was
a bright, grassy lawn, decorated with abundance of
sugar-maples, which appeared to have found their
Paradise.* Such is the shape of the encircling hills
and ledges that the site of the village seems a sort of
secluded Happy Valley, where every thing turns to
poetry and romance. And this aptitude is abundantly
encouraged by history — for here was once the favored
home of a tribe of Indians. All around — the rivers,
the hills, the forests — are still rife with legends and
remerabrances of the olden time. A rocky mound,
rising above the river on one side, and dark forests on
the other, bears the narae of " Pomperaug's Castle ;"
a little to the north, near a bridle-path that traversed
the meadows, was a heap of stones, called " Pompe
raug's Grave." To the east I found a wild ledge,
called Bethel Rock.f And each of these objects has

* The street of Woodbury continues to that of Southbury, the two
united being three miles in length. These are decorated by a double
line of sugar-maples — certainly one of thc most beautiful exhibitions of
the kind I have ever seen.
+ Woodbury is alike historical and legendary ground. Its naraes
trace out its story. Quassapaug Lake, Shepaug Eiver, Quanopaug Falls,
Nonnewaug Falls, tell us of its original proprietors : Rattlesnake Kock,
and White Deer Hills, bespeak the ancient inhabitants of the forest:
Bethel Book, Carmel Hill, and Tophet Hollow, announce the arrival here
of the Pilgrim settlers from^ New Haven : Hall's Rock, Good Hill, Light
ing's Playground, Scuppo, Hazel Plain, Moose Horn Hill, Ash Swamp,
ull in AVoodbury or the vicinity, indicate alike certain traits of scenery,
with the final settlement of the country by the English. The remark
able men that have originated in this town within the last century, pre
sent a raarvellous record of ability, patriotisra, an'd piety. My imagina
tion was greatly excited by the legends I heard when I first visited
Woodbury, and some years .after (1828) I wrote and published in tho

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 353
its story. How suggestive — how full Of imaginings
was Woodbury to me, when I visited it, five and forty
years ago ! And the woods, teeming with the smaller
game — the gray-squirrel, the partridge, and quail, my
old West Mountain acquaintances — with what delight
did I traverse them, gun in hand, accompanied by a
Legendary at Boston, the following story, which has now become almost
historical ; THE LEGEND OP BETHEL EOCK.
" In the picturesque state of Counectiout, there is not a spot more
beautiful than the village of Pomperaug. It is situated not very far
from the western' border of the state, and derives its name from a
tribe of Indians, who once inhabited it. it presents a sm.ill, but level
valley, surrounded by hiUs, with a bright stream rippling through its
meadows. The tops of the high grounds which skirt the valley, are
covered with forests, but the slopes are smooth with cultivation, nearly
to their summits. In the time of verdure, the plain displays a vividness
of green like that of velvet, while the forests are dark with the rich
hues supposed to be peculiar to the climate of England.
"The village of Pomperaug consists now of about two hundred
houses, with three white churches, arranged on a street which passes
along the eastern margin of the valley. At the distance of about twenty
rods from this street, and running parallel to it for nearly a mile, is a
rook, or ledge of rooks, of considerable elevation. From this, a distinct
survey of the place may be had, almost at a glance. Beginning at the
village, the spectator may count every house, and measure every garden ;
he may compare the three churches, wliich now seem drawn close to
gether ; he may trace the winding path of the river by the trees which
bend over its waters ; he may enumerate the white farm-houses which
dot the surface of the valley ; he may repose his eye on the checkered
carpet which lies unrolled before him, or it may olimb to the horizon
over the dark blue hills which form the border of this enchanting
picture. " The spot which we have thus described did not long lie concealed
from the prying sagacity of the first settlers of the colony of New
Haven. Though occupied by a tribe of savages, as before intimated, it
was very early surveyed by raore than one of the emigrants. In the
general rising of the Indians in Philip's war, this tribe took part with
the Pequods, and a large portion of them shared in their destruction.
The chief himself was killed. His son, still a boy, witb a remnant of
his father's people, who had been driven into exile, returned to their

354 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
black-eyed stripling, now my respected and gray-
haired brother-in-law 1
It was a great time, that happy week, for be it re
membered that for a Avhole year I had been impris
oned in a country store. What melody was there
in the forest echoes, then ! Ah ! I have since heard

native valley, .ind lived for a time ou terms of apparent submission to
the English.
" The period had now arrived when the young chief had reached the
age of manhood. He took, as was the custom with his fathers, the
name of his tribe, aud was accordingly called Pomperaug. He was
tall, finely formed, with an eye th.it gleamed like the flashes of a dia
mond. He wus suoh a one as the savage would look upon with idola
try. His foot was swift as that of the deer ; his arrow was sure as
the pursuit of the eagle ; his sagacity penetrating as the light of the sun.
"Such was Pomperaug. But his nation was passing away; scarce
fifty of his own tribe now dwelt in the valley in which his fathers had
hunted for ages. The day of their dominion had gone. There was a
spell over the Dark Warrior. The Great Spirit had sealed his doom.
So thought the remaining Indians in the Valley of Pomperaug, and they
sullenly submitted to a fate which they could not avert.
" It was therefore without resistance, and, indeed, with expressions
of amity, that they received a sraall corapany of English settlers into
the valley. This corapany consisted of about thirty persons, from the
New Haven colony, under the spiritual charge of the Rev. Noah Beni
son. He was a man of great age, but still of uncommon mental and
bodily vigor. His years had passed thc bourne of threescore and ten
and his hair was white as snow. But liis tall and broad form was yct
erect, and his cane of smooth hickory, with a golden head, was evidently
a thing * more of ornament than use.'
" Mr. Benison had brought with him the last remnant of his family.
She was the daughter of his only son, who, with his wife, had slept
many years m the tomb. Her name was Mary, and well might she be
the object of all the earthly affections which still beat in the bosom of
one whom death had made acquainted witli sorrow, and who but for
her had been left alone.
" Mary Benison was now seventeen years of age. She had received
her education in England, and had been but a few months in America.
She was tall and slender, with a dark" eye, full of soul and sincerity.
Her hair was of a glossy black, parted upon a forehead of ample and
exoressive beauty. When at rest, her appearance was not strikinc-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 355
Catalani and Garcia and Pasta and Sontag and Grisi.
I have even heard the Swedish nightingale ; nay, in
France and Italy — the very home of music and song
- -I have listened to the true nightingale, which has
given to Jenny Lind her sweetest and most appro
priate epithet ; but never, in one or all, have I heard
but if she spoke or moved, she fixed the attention of every beflolder
by the dignity of her air, blent with a tone of tender, yet serious senti
ment. " The settlers had been in the valley but a few months, when some
matter of business relative to a purchase of land, brought Pomperaug to
the hut of Mr. Benison. It was a bright morning in autumn, and while
he was talking with the old gentleman at the door, Mary, who had been
gathering flowers iu the woods, passed by them and entered thc place.
The eye of the young Indian followed her with a gaze of entrancement.
His face gleamed as if hc had seen a vision of more than earthly beauty.
But this emotion was visible only for a moment. With the habitual
self-command of a savage, he turned again to Mr. Benison, aud calmly
pursued the subject which occasioned their meeting.
" Pomperaug went away, but he carried the image of Mary with him.
He retired to his wigwam, but it did not please him. He ascended to the
top ofthe rock, at tho foot of which his wigwam was situated, and which
now goes under the name of Pomperaug's Castle, and looked down
upon the rivor, which was flashing in the slant rays of the morning.
He turned away, and sent his long gaze over the checkered leaves ot
thc wood, which, like a sea, spread over the valley. He was still dis
satisfied. With a single leap he sprang from the rock, and, alighting
on his feet, snatched his bow and took the path wliich led into tho
forest. In a few moments he came back, and, seating himself on tho
rock, brooded for some hours in silence.
" The next morning Pomperaug repaired to the housc of Mr. Benison
to finish tbe business of the preceding day. He had before signified an
inclination to accede to the terms proposed by Mr. Benison, but he now
started unexpected difficulties. On beiug asked the reason, he answered
as follows :
" ' Listen, father— hear a Eed Man speak ! Look into the air, and you
see the'eagle. The sky is his home, and dotb the eagle love his home ?
Will he barter it for the sea ? Look into the river, aud ask the fish that
is there, if he will sell it! Go to the dark-skinned hunter, and dem.and
of him if he will part with his forests ? Yet, father, I will part with my
forests, if you wiU give me the singing bird that is in thy nest.'

356 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
such music as filled ray ears, that incense-breathing
morn, when I made a foray into the wilds of Wood
bury ! There was indeed no nightingale there : the
season of wood minstrelsy was passed; even the
thrush had descended from its perch aloft, and ceas
ing its melodies, was busy in the cares of its young
" ^Savage,' said the pilgrim, with a mingled look of disgust and in
dignation, 'will the lamb lie down in the' den of the wolf? Never!
Dream not of it — I would sooner see hor die ! Name it not.' As he
spoke he struck his cane forcibly on the ground, aud his broad figure
seemed to expand and grow taller, while his eye gleamed, and the
muscles of his brow contracted with a lowering and angry expression.
The change of the old man's appearance was sudden aud striking.
The air and manner ofthe Indian, too, was changed. There was now a
kindled fire in his eye, a proud dignity in his manner, which a raoraent
before was not there ; but these had stolen upon hira, with that imper
ceptible progress by which the dull colors of the serpent, when he be
comes enraged, are succeeded by the glowing hues of the rainbow.
" The two now parted, and Pomperaug would not again enter into
any negotiations for a sale of his lands. Ho kept himself, indeed, aloof
from the English, aud cultivated rather a hostile spirit in his people
toward them.
"As might have been expected, difficulties soon grew up between
the two parties, and violent feelings were shortly excited on both sides.
This .broke out into open quarrels, and one of the white men was shot
by a savage lurking in the woods. This determined the settlers to
seek instant revenge, and accordingly they followed the Indians into
the broken and rocky districts which lie east ofthe valley, whither, ex
pecting pursuit, they had retreated.
" It was about an hour before sunset, when the English, consisting of
twenty well-armed men, led by their reverend pastor, were marching
through a deep ravine, about two miles east of the town. The rocks
on either side were lofty, and so narrow was the dell, that the shadows
of night had already gathered over it. The pursuers had sought their
enemy the whole day in vain ; and having lost all trace of them, they
were now returning to their homes. Suddenly a wild yell burst from
the rocks at their feet, aud twenty savages sprang up before therm. An
arrow pierced the breast of the pilgrim leader, and he fell. Two In
dians were shot, and the remainder fled. Several of the English were
wounded, but none mortally, save the aged pastor.
" With mournful silence they bore back the body of their father. He

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 357
ones, now beginning life in the bush. It was the echo
of my own heart, that gave to simple and familiar
sounds — that of the far-off barking dog, the low of
distant herds, the swing of the village bell, the mur
mur of the brooks, the rustle of the leaves in the
joyous breath of morning — their real melody. And

was buried in a sequestered nook of the forest, and with a desolate and
breaking heart the orphan Mary turned away from his grave, to be for
the first time alone in their humble house in the wilderness.
*****
"A year passed. The savages had disappeared, and the rock ou
which the pilgrim met his death had been consecr.ited by raany prayers.
His blood was still visible on the spot, and his people often came with
reverence to kneel there and offer up their petitions. The place they
called Bethel Rock, and piously they deemed that their he.irts were
visited here with the richest gifts of heavenly grace.
" It was a sweet evening in summer, when Mary Benison, for the last
time, went to spend an hour at this holy spot. Long bad she knelt,
aud most fervently had she prayed. Oh ! who can tell the bliss of that
heavenly communion to which a pure heart is admitted in the hours of
solitude aud silence 1 The sun went down, and as the vail of evening
fell, the full moon climbed over the eastern ledge, pouring its silver
light into the valley, aud Mary was still kneeling, stiU communing with
Him who seeth iu secret.
" At length a slight noise, like the crushing of a leaf, woke her from
her trance, and with quickness and agitation she set out on her return.
Alarmed at her distance from home at suoh an hour, she proceeded
with great rapidity. She was obliged to climb up the face of the rooks
with care, as the darkness rendered it a critical and dangerous task.
At length she reached the top. Standing upou the verge of the cliff,
she theu turned a moment to look back upon the valley. The moon
was shining full upon the vale, and she gazed with a mixture of awe
and delight upou the sea of silvery leaves which slept in deathlike
repose beneath her. She then turned to pursue her path homeward,
but what was her amazement to see before her, in the full moonlight,
the tall form of Pomperaug ! She shrieked, and, swift as his own
arrow, she sprang over the dizzy cliff. The Indian listened— there was
a moment of silence— theu a heavy sound— and the dell was still as
the tomb.
" The fate of Mary was known only to Pomperaug. He buried her
with a lover's eare amid the rocks of the glen. Then, bidding adieu to
Vol. I.— 17

358 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
then the merry mockery of the red-squirrel, flying,
rather than leaping from tree to tree, with the hearty
guffaw of his gray brother, rioting in the abundance
of some aged hickory : how did these add to the
general harmony ! And more than all this, there
was occasionally the low whistle of the quail, steal
ing through the leaves, attended at intervals by the
his native valley, he joined his people, who had retired to the banks of
the Housatonic. *****
" More than half a century subsequent to this event, a rumor ran
through the village of Pomperaug, that some Indians were seen at
night, bearing a heavy burden along the margin of the river, which
swept the base of Pomperaug's Castle. In the morning a spot was
found near by, on a gentle hill, where the fresh earth showed that the
ground had been recently broken. A low heap of stones on the place
revealed the secret. They remain there to this day, and the little mound
is shown by the villagers as Pomperaug's grave."

Such is the legend as I wrote it. The reader will find in Cothren's
History of Ancient Woodbury, the exact version of the story, as authen
tic chroniclers have now established it. The true name of the place is
Woodbury, instead of Pomperaug : the Indian hero must be called
Waramaukeag, not Pomperaug; the aged ministeris to bc called Walk
er, in lieu of Benison ; and the heroine, his niece, must bear the same
narae, with the baptisraal title of Sarah. With these emendations, pop
ular faith has sanctioned tbe general outlines of my invention. Thus,
it seeras, a romance requires about thirty years to crystallize into ver
itable history !
The name of Bethel Rock is, however, strictly historical ; here the
ancient settlers actually assembled for worship ; and in commemoration
of this fact, a few years since. Dr. Beecher, then settled at Litchfield, with
several other clergyraen ofthe vicinity, came hither and united in prayer.
The records of AVoodbury, as given us by tbe historian already alluded
to, show its chronicles to be almost as full of incident, legend, and ad
venture, as the Highlands of Scotland. AU that is wanted to render
them as deeply interesting, is the inspiration of the poet to sing and
sat them to music. Mr. Cothren has made a good beginning, for his
history breathes of romance without irapeaching its truthfulness, as is
flvinced by the titles of some of his topics, like the following : Legend

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 359
rolling drum of the partridge,* reminding me, with
all Ihe force of old associations, that I was once more
at liberty in the forest. How great, how impressive
do little and even common things become, when seen
through the prismatic lens of youthful remembrance !
During our stay in Woodbury, as I have said, we
lodged at the house of the aged clergyman. Father
Benedict, f as he was generally called. I remember
of Squaw Kock: the' Belt of Wampum: Mr. Boardman's Praying
Match : Watchbrok's Disclosure, &o., &a.
^ All American woodsmen will know that I here speak of the ruffed
grouse, which in the autumn makes the forest echo by rapidly beating
some old decayed trunk of a fallen tree with its wings. To a sports
man, it is a sound of lively interest — for it seems to be a sort of oh.il-
lenge to the sport.
t Eev. Noah Benedict was a native of Danbury, and graduated at
Nassau Hall in 1757. He received the degree of Master of Arts, adeun
dem, from Yale College, in 1760, and was a fellow of that institution from
1801 to 1812. He was a m.in of sound piety, and of great dignity and
amiability of temper. He held an honored place in the affections of his
people. He was successful as a spiritual teacher, and was followed to
the tomb by his parishioners with hearts throbbing with grief. His
church has been noted for the length of time it has enjoyed the ser
vices of its ministers. There is perhaps no other instance in the coun
try where a church has been presided over by three pastors, as has been
the case with this, for thc long period of one hundred and forty-three
years. Mr. Benedict was spoken of, during his Ufe, and is stiU so remembered,
as one of the fairest specimens of the good clergymen of Connecticut.
Constitutionally, he had a well-balanced mind ; singularly discreet and
exemplary in his every-day deportment aud iu all the relations of Ufe ;
as a preacher and counselor, he held a high rank. His temper was even,
and his condition was placid and easy. Temptations, he was cautious,
and even zealous to put, if possible, out of his way. He once had a fa
vorite horse — young, sound, gentle, active, and graceful ; the animal was
admired by his rider's parishioners. But Mr. Benedict, to the siirpriso
of all, sold the horse. A neighbor expressed his astonishment at the
event, and inquired the reason of it. "He was growing unruly," was
the grave pastor's reply. " But I thought," said the man, " that he was
n very orderly horse." " No," was the rejoinder ; " he was growing

360 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
his voice still, which was remarkable for its tender,
affectionate tones. There was also a childlike simpli
city in his prayers, which was very touching. These
made such an impression on me that I could now re
peat several passages, which were perhaps favorites,
as they came in every petition.
Of Judge Smith, his son-in-law — whom I have al
ready mentioned — I have also the most vivid recol
lections. He was then about fifty years of age. His
hair was jet black, his eye black and piercing, his
complexion swarthy. He was of middle height, of a
large and massive mould. There was a mingled
plainness and majesty about his appearance, such as
might have suited Cincinnatus. He was a great
farraer, and devoted himself with intense interest to
his tillage, his cattle, ahd his flocks, during the re
cesses of the courts. At these times, he seemed to
delight in the rustic sports and simple pastimes to
which he had been accustomed in early life. After
the day's task was done, he was often seen in the
midst of his workmen, gathered upon some grassy
plain, for the race, the wrestle, or other gymnastic
quite unruly ; he once got into the pulpit, and I thought it was time to
part with him."
This rainister was blessed iu his faraily, and honored in the allianoea
of his children by marriage, and by their eminent usefulness aud the
distinctions to which they attained in public offices and employments.
His people never desired his separation : death effected it in the year
1818, at the age of seventy-six. He lives in the sweet aud grateful re
membrance of the aged in his parish and out of it; and the present
generation of Woodbury have heard from tho reverential and affection
ate, the story of his goodness. — Colhren's History of Ancient Woodbury.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 361
exercises — he being the umpire, and joining heartily
in the spirit of frolic and fun, proper to the occasion.
Nothing could be more admirable than his inter
course with his family and the people around him.
All knew him to be the judge, yet all felt that he was
even more to them — the father, friend, and neighbor.
Few men have left behind them a biography at
once so striking and so spotless. " Perhaps," says
the chronicler, " the history and character of no other
man could be more profitably studied by the youth
of ardent aspirations, feeling the fire of genius burn
ing within him, and struggling under the power of
adverse circumstances for an honorable position in
society, than that of Mr. Smith. He furnishes a bril-.
liant example of what the innate force of a mighty
intellect can accomplish, though surrounded by difii
culties and obstacles."*
The father of Mr. Smith was poor, and hence he had
an extremely limited education. While yet young,
he and his brother were engaged in trading between
Philadelphia and the northern parts of New England.
Being once at Eutland, Vermont, and having a little
leisure, he went into the court-house, and heard a trial
there. He became deeply interested, and after a little
reflection, he said to his brother — " I have been to
Philadelphia, to sell new rum, for the last time : I am
determined to be a lawyer. Ignorant as I am, I
-» Cothren's History of Ancient Woodbury, p. 398.

362 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
could have managed the case I heard in court, better
than either of the parties engaged. My mind is
made up !" Soon after this, he offered himself as a
student in the ofl&ce of Judge Eeeve of Litchfield.
The latter, knowing his unlettered condition, attempt
ed to dissuade him from an atterapt which seemed so
hopeless. As Smith persisted, however, he lent him
a book, desiring him to read it, and come back in a
week for an examination. This he did, and the judge
was so struck with his intelligence and capacity, that
he received him into his ofiice, and thenceforward
gave him every encouragement. Such was his prog
ress, that he was admitted to the bar, even before the
time usually required for study had elapsed._
What had been so well begun Avas, in due time,
finished in a similar manner. Mr. Smith rose with
unexampled rapidity to the front ranks of his profes
sion, and that too at a time when the Connecticut
bar shone with a constellation of great names. His
clearness of statement, his simple but vigorous logic,
his fertility and felicity of illustration, all aided by
a manly presence and a voice of prodigious power,
gave him a mastery alike over the plainest and the
most instructed audience. These high gifts were
nerved by an iron will, and when once he Avas roused
to an earnest effort, his course Avas marked with a
crushing energy, Avhich bore doAvn all opposition. It
is said that sometimes, in the consciousness of his
power, he rode rough-shod over his adversary, though

363
in general his practice was signalized not only by
justice but amenity.
It appears that although Mr. Smith thus rose to dis
tinction, he still preserved the good-will of the people
at large, in an uncommon degree. He soon passed
through various stages of official advancement : in
1789, he represented his native town in the General
Assembly; in 1795, he was sent to Congress-; in 1800,
he was a member of the State Council ; in 1806, he
was judge of the Superior Court, an office which he
held for eleven years, when the state of his health
compelled him to resign. In all these positions he was
distinguished for his ability, his good sense, his right
feeling, his patriotism, j ustice, dignity. Yet it is re
corded that in this elevated career, he never ceased to
be stamped Avith the simplicity of the country farmer.
The farm was, indeed, the place which he seeraed
most to enjoy. His intercourse with country people
was marked with a felloAVship very rare in a profes
sional man, and hence, no doubt, that general feeling
of kindliness among the masses, which even yet cher
ishes his memory in his native valley, and indeed
, throughout his native State.
It is greatly to be regretted that none of the higher
oratorical efforts of this great man are preserved. The
reporting of speeches— so common now — was un
known in his day, and he had too little love of self-
display to report what he said, himself There was, in
general, a modesty, a self-forgetfulness about him,

3Q4 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
quite as remarkable as the greatness of his intellect.
He shrunk from no public duty, but he coveted no
public honors. When not officially called away, his
home, his farm, and the house of worship — for he was
a man of steadfast piety — were his chosen scenes and
sources of interest. When I saw him, he was at the
height of his fame : all eyes looked at him with ad
miration. It may be imagined, therefore, that a
strong impression was made upon my mind, when —
one evening chancing to be at his house — I saw
him kneel down in the midst of his gathered fam
ily, including the servants, and offer up his evening
prayer, with all the earnest simplicity and feeling
of a child, addressing a revered but beloved father.
There was something inexpressibly touching and
affecting in the scene, and especially in the thrilling,
pleading tones of the speaker, poured out as if from
the fullness of an overflowing heart. It was, indeed,
a scene never to be forgotten — a lesson never to fail
of imparting instruction.*
¦* The family of Judge Smith has been marked with great vigor of
mind and character. He assisted his brother Nathan — who had shared
in his early poverty aud depression — to fit himself for the bar, aud he
finally rose to great eminence— professional and political. He died at
Washington— being then a Senator ofthe United States— Deo. 6, 1835,
aged 65.
Truman Smith, nephew of Judge Smith, settled at Litchfield, and
became a leading raember of the bar. In 1848, he was elected to the
Senate of the United States, and was distinguished for those masculine
powers of oratory, combined with practical good sense, which marked
his erainent relatives, just named. Though elected for a second term,
he resigned his seat in 1854.
Nathaniel B. Smith, only child of the judge, inherited his farm, aud

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 365

LETTER XXIV.
The Cold Winter and u. Sharp Ride— Description of Danbury— The Hat
Manufactory— Tlie Sandimaniams—Gen. Wooster's Monu^ment— Death
of my Brother-in-law— Master 'White— Mathematics— FareweU to Dan-
bury.
Mt deae C ***** *
We returned to Danbury after a tour of some five
or six weeks. The succeeding autumn and winter
presented no peculiar incident — with a single excep
tion. There was, if I rightly remember, in the month
of February,* a certain " cold Friday," which passed
down to succeeding generations as among the marvels
of the time. It had snowed heavily for three days, and
the ground was covered three feet deep. A driving
wind from the northeast then set in, and growing
colder and colder, it became at last so severe as to force
everybody to shelter. This continued for two days, the
whole air being filled with sleet, so that the sun, with
out a cloud in the sky, shone dim and gray as through
a fog, The third day, the wind increased, both in
force and intensity of cold. Horses, cattle, fowls,
sheep, perished in their coverings. The roads were
blocked up with enormous drifts : the mails were
his love of agriculture, which he has pursued with great science and
success. He has filled various public offices, but probably values among
his highest honors, his medals for the best examples of stock and tillage,
awarded him, on various occasions, by the Connecticut State Agricul
tural Society. He is now president of that institution (1856).
* This was, I think, in 18011, though it might have been a year lat«r
17*

366 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
stopped, traveling was suspended ; the world, indeed.
seemed paralyzed, and the circulation of life to be
arrested. On the morning of this third day — which was the
ominous and famous Friday — word was brought to
my sister that a poor family, to whom she had long
been a kind of providence, about two miles off, was
in danger of starvation. She knew no fear, and tol
erated no weakness. A thing with her that ought
to be done, was to be done. Therefore, a sack was
filled with bread, meat, candles, and a pint of rum :
this was lashed around my waist. The horse was
brought to the door^I mounted and set off. I knew
the aniraal well, and we had enjoyed raany a scam
per together. He was indeed after my own heart —
clean-limbed, with full, knowing eyes, and small,
pointed, sensitive ears. He had a cheerful walk, a
fleet, skimming trot, a swift gallop, and all these
paces we had often tried. T think he knew who was
on his back ; but when we got to the turning of the
road, which brought his nostrils into the very tunnel
ofthe gale, ho snorted, whirled backward, and seemed
resolved to return. I however brought him sternly
to his work, gave him sharp advice in the ribs, and
assured hira that I was resolved to be master. Hesi
tating a moraent — as if in doubt whether I could be
in earnest — he started forward ; yet so keen was the
blast, that he turned aside his head, and screamed as
if his nostrils were pierced with hot iron. On he

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 367
went, however, in- some instances up to the saddle
in the drift, yet clearing it at full bounds.
In a few minutes we were at the door of the miser
able hut, now half buried in a snow-drift. I was
just in time. The wretched inmates — a mother and
three small children — without fire, without food,
without help or hope — were in bed, poorly clothed,
and only keeping life in their bodies by a mutual
cherishing of warmth, like pigs or puppies in a sim
ilar extremity. The scene within was dismal in the
extreme. The fireplace was choked with snow, which
had fallen down the chimney : the ill-adjusted doors
and windows admitted alike the drift and the blast,
both of which swept across the room in cutting cur
rents. As I entered, the pale, haggard mother, com
prehending at a glance that relief had corae, burst
into a flood of tears. I had no time for words. I
threw them the sack, remounted my horse, and, the
wind at my back, I flew home. One of my ears was
a little frost-bitten, and occasionally for years after, a
tingling and itching sensation there, reminded me of
my ride, which after all left an agreeable remembrance
upon my mind.
Danbury* is a handsome town, now numbering
* Danbury is one of the semi-capitals of Fairfield county, the courts
being held here and at Fairfield, alternately. Thc main street is nearly
two m'Ur-.-i in length, aud presents many handsome residences. Tho
society-is marked by more than ordinary intelligence and refinement.
The Indian name ofthe place was Pah-qui-o-gue, and it was first settled
by the English in 1684. It has been proUfii; in distinguished men : the
names of its early founders having been spread far and wide, and manv

368 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
six thousand inhabitants ; but in my time there were
scarcely more than half that number. It is chiefly
built on a long, wide street, crossed near the northern
extremity by a small river, a branch of the Housato
nic, which, having numerous rapids, affords abvindance
of mill-sites in its course. At this crossing, there
were two extensive hat-factories, famous over the
whole country, and belonging, the one to White,
Brothers & Co., and the other to Tweedy & Co. Their
hats were the rage with the fashionable Genius, St.
Johns, Knoxes, and Beebes of that age. I believe,
indeed, that these factories, with others of more mod
ern date, are still maintained.
Nearly all the workmen in these establishments — of
whom there were several hundred — at the time I am
describing, were foreigners, mostly English and Irish.
A large part of the business of our store was the fur
nishing of rum to these poor wretches, who bought
one or two quarts on Saturday night, and fuddled
themselves till Monday, and frequently till Tuesday.
A factory workman of those days was thought to be
born to toil, to get drunk, and make a hell of his home.
Philanthropy itself had not then lifted its eye or its
hopes above this hideous malaria of custom. We had
imported these ideas from England and other foreign
manufacturing countries, and they reigned over the

of them being yet preserved in the present residents of the place.
Among these, the names of Wildam, Mygatt, Hoyt, Tweedy, Benedict,
White, Starr, Knapp, &c., are oonspieaoas.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 369
public mind. That large humanity, which has done
so much, in modern times, to remove vice and crime,
and to elevate the public standard of morals, had not
then set its Star in the West, calling the Wise and Good
to a new revelation of life. It is a modern discovery
that manufacturing towns may rise up, where com
fort, education, morals, and religion, in their best
,and happiest exercise, may be possessed by the toiling
masses. This is not only a modern, but an American
discovery, and refutes volumes of abuse that long-
eared philosophy has leveled at republicanism.
Danbury is not without other points of interest — ¦
historical and social. It was, as I have shown, the
scene of one of those wanton and wicked outrages,
perpetrated upon the people of Connecticut, and in
deed of many other parts of this country, which
made the British name offensive to God and man, du
ring the Eevolutionary war. In commemoration of
the life and services of General Wooster, who fell at
Eidgefield, in an encounter with these British marau
ders, there has recently been erected at Danbury a
beautiful monument of Portland granite, forty feet
in height, with the following inscription :
David Woostek,
First Major-general of the Connecticut troops
in the Army of the Eevolution ;
Brigadier-general of the United Colonies.
Born at Hartford, March 2, 1710 or 11 ;
Wounded at Eidgefield, April 27, 1777, while defending
the liberties of America,
And nobly died at Danbury,
May 2, 1777.

370 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
The character of Wooster* was indeed a noble one,
and the people of Danbury have shown a wise dis-
cernraent in the construction of this beautiful memo
rial of his character and career.
One item more and I shall take leave of Danbury.
About midway between the northern and southern
extremities of the long main street, and a little to the
west of it, there was a building of moderate size,
somcAvhat between a church and a barn, in aspect. It
was without tower or steeple, so it could not be the
first : it was nicely built and tidily kept, and could
not be the last. It was, in fact, the sanctuary of the
Sandimanians, or, according to the popular accent,
Sandimmians ; a small sect of forty members then,
and now dwindled to a still smaller number.
The history of its founder is well known. Eobert
Sandiman, a Scotchman, having adopted the tenets,
and married the daughter, of Eev. John Glass — an able
* This monument stands on a soUd platform, about twenty feet square,
at the corners of which are massive stone posts, which support an iron
railing. The plinth is richly moulded, and the name of Woostek ap
pears in bold raised letters, upon the front or south .side. The General
is represented, in a beautifuUy sculptured relief, in the aet of falling
from his horse, at the moment he received the fatal baU. Above this,
appears a delineation ofthe State arms; and higher still, the main
shaft is ornamented with a trophy, consisting of a sash, sword, aud epau
lettes. On two opposite sides are various appropriate masonic and mili
tary emblems. The whole is surmounted with a globe, ou which stands
tho Araerican Eagle, bearing in his beak the wreath of victory. This
fine column was consecrated by imposing ceremonies on the 27th April,
1854, at which the Governor of the State, with many distinguished cit
izens, deputations from various lodges, and a large concourse of people,
assisted. The oration, by Hon. H. C. Deming, was deeply interesting,
OS well ou account of its eloquence as its historical reminiscences.

HIS'rOBICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 371
divine, who seems to have been the originator of the
Scotch Independents — became a distinguished defend
er of his theological views. After a time, he Avas in
vited to come to America by some of his admirers
there, and accordingly he arrived in 1764, and settled
among them — first at Boston, but finally taking up
his residence at Danbury. He appears to have been
much disappointed at the character of his adherents,
and the general state of society in America. This was
aggravated by his taking the tory side in the agitation
which now verged toward the Eevolution. His days
were in fact embittered, and his flock reduced to a
handful of followers. His death took place in 1771,
and a simple marble slab, in the burial-ground, op
posite the court-house, commemorates his name and
history. He was doubtless a man of ability, but
his career displays the usual narrowness and in
consistency of sectarianism founded upon persons,
rather than principles. His doctrine was, that faith
is a mere intellectual conviction-^a bare belief of the
bare truth. Of course so cold a religion, scarcely dis
tinguishable in its principle frora deism, and giving no
satisfaction to that constant craving of the soul for a
more exalted and spiritual life, could not prosper. It
was only adapted to a few rigid minds like his own.
His adherents in my time met at their little church
on the afternoons of Sundays and Thursdays ; they
sat around a large table, each with a Bible. The
men read and discoursed, as the spirit dictated : the

373 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
women were silent. Spectators were admitted, but
the Avorshipers seemed not to recognize their pres
ence. After a prayer and a hymn, they went to the
house of one of the members, and had a love-feast.
" Greet one another with a holy kiss," was their max
im and their practice.
These customs remain* to the present day, save
only as to the kiss, which, according to the current re
port, was modified some years since. The congregation
was rather mixed, and included the W  E  s, a
family of wealth and refinement, down to N. S . . . .,
the blacksmith. Mrs. W . . . . E . . . . was a woman
of great delicacy of person, manners, and dress : her
lace was the finest, her silks the richest, her muslin
the most immaculate. She was in breeding a lady,
in position an aristocrat, in feeling an exclusive. And
yet, one day, as she walked forth, and chanced to
turn the corner, close to the central meeting-house,
wending her way homeward, she came suddenly
upon the village Vulcan, above mentioned. He was
in front of his shop, and being a man of full habit,
and having just put down the heel of an ox, which
he was shoeing, he was damp with perspiration.
Nevertheless, the faith was strong within him: "Greet
one another with a holy kiss !" rushed to his raind,
and he saluted Mrs. W . . . . E . . . ., as in duty bound.

* A friend writes me (1856) that the Sandimanian church at Danbury
now numbers three male and fifteen female members. The congrega
tion comprises about thirty persons.

, HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 373
She, a saint in profession, but alas, in practice a sin
ner, as doth appear — returned not the salute ! Had
she been of another sect, abstinence would have
been a virtue, but in this, it was of course a crime.
Upon this incident rocked and quaked the whole
Sandimanian church for some months. At last the
agitation subsided, • and the holy kiss was thence
forward either abandoned or given with discretion.
Such is the tale as it was told to me, nearly fifty
years ago.
It may be remarked that Sandimanianism, which
originated in a hard, sarcastic mind, subsided into a
sort of amiable and tranquil Quakerism. Its mem
bers were noted for purity of life, and some of them
for habits of" abstraction, which marked themselves
in a cold pallor upon the countenance. Seeming to
be conscious of a chill at the heart, they sought to
quicken the circulation of the Spirit, by outward ob
servances and by peculiarities of worship, such as
might distinguish them from other Christians. " I
am better than thou, for I am other than thou," has
often proved a consoling doctrine for the narrow peo
ple of narrow creeds.
A few brief sketches more, and I have done with
Danbury. The heailth of my brother-in-law gradu
ally failed, and at last, as winter approached, he took
to his room, and finally to his bed. By almost in
sensible degrees, and with singular tranquillity of
mind and body, he approached his end. It was a

374 LET'lERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
trait of his character, to believe nothing, to do noth
ing, by halves. Having founded his faith on Christ,
Christianity was now, in its duties, its promises,
and its anticipations, as real as life itself He was
afflicted with no doubts, no fears. With his mind
in full vigor, his strong intellect vividly awake, he
was ready to shake hands with death, and to enter
into the presence of his God. The hour came. He
had taken leave of his friends, and then feeling a
sense of repose, he asked to be left alone. They all
departed save one, who sat apart, listening to every
breath. In a few moments she came and found
hira asleep, but it was the sleep that knows no
waking 1
I continued in the store alone for several months,
selling out the goods, and closing up the affairs of
the estate. I had now a good deal of time to my
self and thumbed over several books, completing
my reading of Shakspeare, to which I have already
alluded. It happened that we had a neighbor over
the way — a good-natured, chatty old gentleman, by
the name of Ebenezer White. He had been a teacher,
and had a great taste for matheraatics. In those days
it was the custom to put forth in the newspapers puz
zling questions of figures, and to invite their solution.
Master White was sure to give the ansAver, first. In
fact, his genius for matheraatics was so large, that it
left rather a moderate space in his brain for common
sense. He was, hoAvever, full of good feelings, and
16*

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 375
was now entirely at leisure. Indeed, time hung
heavy on his hands, so he made me frequent visits,
and in fact lounged away an hour or two of almost
every day, at the store. I became at last interested
in mathematics, and under his good-natured and gra
tuitous lessons, I learned something of geometry and
trigonometry, and thus passed on to surveying and
navigation. This was the first drop of real science
that I ever tasted — I might almost say the last, for
though I have since skimmed a good many books, I
feel that I have really mastered almost nothing.

LETTER IXV.
Farewell to Danbury— Hartford— My First Master and his Family— Me
rino Sheep— A Wind-up— Another Change—My new Employer— A new
Era in Life — George Sheldon.
Mt dbae C******
I must now introduce you to a new era in my
life. Early in the summer of 1811, I took leave of
Danbury, and went to Hartford. On my arrival
there, I was installed in the dry-goods store of C. B.
K  , my father having made the arrangement some
weeks before. My master was a young man of ex
cellent disposition, with a pretty wife and two fat
cherubs of children. I was kindly treated in this
family, with which I took my meals. Many a happy

376 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
romp had I with the children — this exercise filling
in some degree the aching void of ray bosom, arising
from isolation^— for I was not only in a new place,
but I was alraost without friends or acquaintances.
My master had no real turn for business, and spent
much of his time away, leaving the affairs of the
shop to an old fudge of a clerk, by the name of
Jones, and to me. Things Avent rather badly, and
he sought to mend his fortune by a speculation in Me
rino sheep* — then the rage of the day. A ram sold

* The Merino sheep appears to be a breed which originated in the
mountain districts of Estremadura, in Spain, in the time of the Eomau
dominion, from the careful mixture of celebrated European and Asiatic
breeds. In the tirae of Tiberius, a ram of this stock was sold for a
thousand dollars, an enormous price, if we consider the value of money
at that period. The more tender breeds of sheep became extinct in Italy
and Greece during the invasions of the northern barbarians, but the
hardy Merinoes, having thriven in the mountains, survived, and have
come down to modern times. All the European breeds, now celebrated
for the fineness of their wool, are crosses of the Merino.
The first Merinoes brought into the United States were imported by
Chancellor Eobert E. Livingston — a pair of each sex — in 1802. M. De-
lessert sent a few others, soon after. Little attention, however, was paid
to the subject, and it seems that about 1805, half-breeds were sold at a
price below that of common sheep. Afterward, a larger importation was
made by Col. Humphries, who had been our Minister to Spain, and our
Consul, Jarvis : these were three hundred in number, and arrived iu
1810. Humphries tells us that he had turned his thoughts to this subject
before he left Spain, and as he seems to have consulted his muse in ev
ery thing th.it interested him, he had there written a poem, the burden
of which is found in the following stanzas :
" Oh might my gaidance from tbe downs of Spain,
Lead a white flock across the western main ;
Famed like the bark that bore the Argonaut
Should be the vessel with the burden fraught I
Clad in the raiment my Merinoes yield;
Like Cincinnatus, fed from my own field ;
Far from ambition, grandeur, care, and strife,
In sweet fruition of domestic life ;

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 377
for a thousand dollars and a ewe for a hundred — a
great discount certainly for gender ; but Maria An
toinette Brown and her school had not yet equal
ized the sexes. Fortunes were made and lost in a day,
during this mania. With my master, it was great cry
and little wool ; for after buying a flock and driving
it to Vermont, where he spent three months, he came
back pretty well shorn — that is, three thousand dol
lars out of pocket ! This soon brought his afifeirs to
a crisis, and so in the autumn I was transferred to
the dry-goods store of J. B. H 
My new employer had neither wife nor child to
take up his time, so he devoted himself sedulously to
business. He was indeed made for it — elastic in his
frame, quick-minded, of even temper, and assiduous
politeness. He was already well established, and
things marched along as if by rail. For a time, we
had another clerk, but he was soon dismissed, and I
was the only assistant ; my master, however, seldom
leaving the shop during business hours. Had trade
been in me, I might now have learned it. I think I
may say, that I fulfilled my duty, at, least in form ;
I was regular in my hours, kept the books duly jour
nalized and posted. I never consciously wronged
arithmetic to the amount of a farthing. I duly per-
There would I pass with friends, beneath my trees.
What rests from public life, in lettered ease."
This poetic aspiration became history : in 1809, when Madison was
inaugurated, his coat was made of Merino cloth from a manufactory
established by Humphries, and his small-clothes from one founded by
Chancellor Livingston. See Cyclopedia of A?ner. Leterature, vol. i.p.37fi

378 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
formed my task at the counter. Yet, in all this, I
was a slave : ray heart was not in my work. My
mind was away : I dreamed of other things ; T
thought of other pursuits.
And yet I scarcely knew all this. I had certainly
no definite plan for the future. A thousand things
floated before my imagination. Every book I read
drew me aside into its own vortex. Poetry made
me poetical ; politics made me political ; travels
raade rae truant. I was restless, for I was in a wrong
position, yet I asked no advice, for I did not know
that I needed it. My head and heart were a hive of
thoughts and feelings — SAvarming in the sunny spring
tide of life — without the regulating and sedative su
premacy of a clear and controlling intelligence. My
imagination was a flame, playing around my yet cloud
ed understanding, and giving to this its own wavering
and blinding light.
It may seem to you, my dear C . . . ., that 1 am
treating with undue emphasis and detail this unspo
ken history of a boy in a country store. Yet such —
in the main — is life, Avith the great as with the small.
Eemember, I am speaking of that crisis of existence,
when an impulse to the right or left may determine
the direction and the end of a whole career. You
are a philosopher, and can not be indifferent to any
experience that may throw light upon the history of
the human heart. You are, besides, a parent, and as
such, can not be too well advised of what passes in

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 379
the bosom of youth, and especially as they stand at
the door of manhood. No one can know too well
the mastery which slight events at this period may
exercise over a long and fearful future. Therefore,
pass not disdainfully over this page of my story !
My experience was, no doubt, in some degree ex
ceptional. With considerable knowledge, gathered by
glimpses, in a scramble, as I passed along in an irreg
ular and uncertain road, I had really no education in
the sense of mental discipline. What I knew was by
halves, and it had been so acquired that my mind was
a thicket of weeds and flowers, without a defined path
to get into or out of it. All that I had was instinct,
somewhat enlightened, perhaps, by my early religious
training. On questions of right. and wrong, in feeling
and conduct, my conscience should have been a safe
guide ; but in respect to the understanding, as to
logic of thought — I scarcely kncAV the process. My
imagination was like an unbridled colt, and it car
ried me whither it would. In reflecting upon this in
maturer years, I have compared my mind to that slip
pery bird of the sea — the loon — which usually comes
up in the direction exactly opposite to that in which
it goes down. In argument, in reflection, in delib
eration, with myself or others — if I began upon one
thing, I was pretty sure to get speedily stranded upon
another. All that I knew of myself was, that I felt ;
I had not yet, in fact, learned the process of sober in
duction and methodical reasoning. I had just that

380 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
little learning which is a dangerous thing, because it
imparts intoxication, not inspiration.
So far, then, my condition was certainly peculiar.
Bat in regard to that impulse which rises up in the
youthful bosom like a gale to the ship, coming in the
midst of seeming calm, and bringing every sail and
spar suddenly and by surprise to its work — I was
like other boys at the threshold of a new and start
ling era in life. What gigantic strides seem then to
be at command with the seven-leagued boots of gristle
manhood ! And yet, with such an impetus, the youth
may yield himself to a word, a thought, which takes
the helm, and guides the spirit, through weal or woe,
to its doom. " My hoyhood vanish'd, and I Avoke,
Startled, to manhood's early morn —
No father's hand my pride to yoke.
No mother's angel voice to warn !
***** +
The spark forever tends to flame —
The ray that quivers in the plash
Of yonder river, is the same
That feeds the lightning's ruddy flash.
The summer breeze that fans the rose,
Or eddies down some flowery path,
Is but the infant gale that blows
To-morrow with the whirlwind's wrath.
And He alone who wields the storm.
And bids the arrowy lightnings play,
Can guide the heart, when, wild and warm,
It springs on passion's wings away.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 381
One angel minister is sent.
To guard and guide us to the sky.
And still her sheltering wing is bent.
Till manhood rudely throws it by.
Oh, then with mad disdain we spurn
A mother's gentle teaching ; throw
Her bosom from us, and we burn
To rush in freedom, where the glow
Of pleasure lights the dancing wave —
We launch the bark, we woo the gale,
And reckless of the darkling wave
That yawns below, we speed the sail !"
Thus many a youth rushes upon his fate. Some,
mdeed, are always sober and judicious : they plod on
wisely and prosperously, not so much on account of
the infiuence of home instruction, nor indeed by
happy accident, but through inherent steadiness of
character. Yet these cases are not frequent. Nearly
all pass through the straits of Sey 11a on one side and
of Charybdis on the other. Some escape, but, alas,
how many are fatally wrecked ! how many only live
on to scandalize society, to break the hearts of their
parents, to debase and degrade themselves and their
companions ! It is sad to reflect upon the number of
young men who are lost at this turning-point — this
" doubling the Cape" — of life. Several of my earliest
acquaintances have gone down, long since, to their
graves, the victims of those hidden quicksands which
beset the youthful voyager, at the very moment when
his sails are filled with- flattering hopes and generous
Vor,. I.— 18

383 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
aspirations — yet, also, with presumptuous confidence
In short,- they were shoved out to sea with no pilot
on board but their own passions, and destruction was
but the too natural consequence.
That I escaped is no special merit of my own. I
formed an acquaintance with George Sheldon, which
soon ripened into friendship, and this had great influ
ence on my future life. He was, at the time, a clerk
in the establishment of Hudson & Goodwin,* a firm

* The following obituary notice, abridged from the Connecticut Cou
rant of May U, 1844, is worthy of insertion, as well for its just picture
of a good man's life, as for the facts of general interest which it presents.
" Mr. George Goodwin, whose death was yesterday announced, w.is
boruiu this city (Hartford) on thc 7th day of Jauuary, 1757, and died the
18th day of May, 1844, being the oldest man in thc town. He was de
scended from one of those ancient families who raade their way from
Newtown, Mass., through the wilderness, to find a new home oo the
banks of the Connecticut river.
" At the age of nine years ho was placed as an apprentice in a print
iug-oflfice, where was published a small weekly print, called the Con
necticut Courant, the first paper printed in this town, and for many
years the only one upon this river — the history of which is so intimately
connected with that of the deceased as to demand notice. The first
number was published by Thoraas Green, October 29, 1764. In April,
1768, Mr. Green associated with him in this enterprise, Mr. Ebenezer
Watson, and retired from it in December, 1770, leaving it in tho hands
of Mr. Watson, alone. In September, 1777, Mr. Watson died, and Mr
Goodwin, a young man of but twenty years of age, was left to conduct
it. In January, 1778, he became a partner with the widow of Mr. Wat
son in the establishment, and so continued until her marriage with Mr.
Hudson, in March, 1779, when he formed a partnership with that gen
tleman, which continued nearly forty years, or until 1815. Mr. Good
win, after the dissolution of the concern, continued to superintend the
paper until the year 1836, when ho relinquished it to the present pro
prietor. Bnt it can hardly be said that his connection with this paper
ended at that time, for suoh were his habits of industry, and so fixed
were his associations, and so long had he been identified with this es
tablishment, that he made it one of the stipulations of his contract,
that he should have a right to work iu the office as" formerly, when he

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. ¦ 383
then known all over this hemisphere, as publishers
of the Bible, Webster's Spelling-book, and the Con
necticut Courant. They were, in the popular mind,
regarded as the bulwarks of religion, education, and
federalism — three pretty staunch supporters of the
New England platform, in that epoch of the world.
was so disposed — aud for several years after did he avail himself of this
privilege. Probably no man in this country, perhaps uo man in the
world, had pursued this business for so long a time — that is, for nearly
eighty years. While under his auspices, this paper gained a circula
tion almost unknown to country papers, and for a long course of years
gave a tone to the morals and poUcy of the State.
" He was always found on the side of religion and morals, nor was ha
ashamed to profess Christ before men ; bis great grief was that he had
not done it earlier. He was a special friend of temperance, aud imputed
his good health and success iu life largely, to a rigid abstinence frora
intoxicating drinks.
** His politics were learned in the school of the American Eevolution.
In his opinions he was firm and decided, but modest and unassuming.
Without any advantages of education beyond that ofa common school,
he became a highly useful and intelligent editor, and one whose influ
ence was extensively felt in this community. His mind was active and
sprightly. He was frank aud pleasant in his manners ; he had a good
share of wit and humor, and in his younger days, was the life of the
circle into which he entered. He was one of the last of the old school
gentlemen among us, and he certainly was a good representative of that
interesting class.
" It is hardly necessary to say how well he discharged all the duties
of private life ; how kind and beneficent he was to the poor, or how dear
to his friends. Happy in his family circle, he passed those years, which
are ordinarily years ' of labor and sorrow,' in cheerful gratitude to God,
aud humble hope in Christ, with few of the pains and sorrows of old
age — until, after a sickness of a few days, he fell like a shook of corn
fully ripe in the hope ofa glorious immortality beyond the grave."
The following lines by Mrs. Sigourney are a worthy and pleasing trib
ute to this good man's memory :
OUE OLDEST MAN.
Meek patriarch of our city I art thou dead ?
The just, the saintly, and the full of days,
The crown of ripen'd wisdom on thy head,
The poor man's blessing, and the good man's praise f

384 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
It is very seldom that plodding indastry rises so high.
Mr. Hudson was a homespun old respectability, of
plain, strong sense, sturdy principles, and rather d.ry,
harsh manners, having also a limp in the leg. He
took charge of the financial department of the con
cern. Mr. Goodwin was a large, hale, comely old

Would that our sons, who saw thee onward move
With step so vigorous and serenely sage,
Of thee might learn to practice, and to love
The hardy virtues of an earlier age.
For more than fourscore winters had not chill'd
The glow of healthful years, on lip, or cheek,
Nor in thy breast tbe warm pulsation still'd,
That moves with upright zeal to act and speak.
Ne'er from the righteous cause withheld by fear,
Of honest toil ashamed, nor proud of wealth,
But trained in habits simple and sincere,
ITrom whence republics draw their vital health.
To every kind affection gently true.
The husband and the father and tbe friend,
Thy children's children still delighted drew
Around tbe honnr'd grandsire's chair to bend.
But now thy mansion hath its master lost,
Wrapp'd in its pleasant green, witb trees o'erspread
And we, a patriot sire, who knew the cost
Of blood-bought freedom, in the day of dread.
We mourn thee, Father ! On thy staff, no more
Thy cheerful smile shall greet us, day by day,
Nor tbe far memories of thy treasured lore.
Withhold tbe joyous listeners from their play.
Where stood that ancient race we fear to stand,
In foremost watch on life's heleaguer'd wall.
To bide the battle with a feebler hand.
Perchance to falter, and perchance to fall.
O God of Strength 1 — who takest from our head.
Our wbite-hair'd patriarchs, flrm in faith and truth,
Grant us tby grace, to follow where they led,
A pure example to observant youth ;
That though the sea of time should fiercely roll,
We so its billows and its waves may stem,
As not to lose the sunshine of the soul,
Nor our eternal rest in Heaven, with them.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 385
gentleman, of lively mind and cheerful manners.
There was always sunshine in his bosom and wit
upon his lip. .He turned his hand to various things,
though chiefly to the newspaper, which was his pet.
His heaven was the upper loft iu the composition
room ; setting type had for him the sedative charms
of knitting-work to a country dame. I have often
seen him, cheerfully swinging back and forth, as is
the wont of compositors, and tossing the type merrily
over his thumb into the stick, as if he were at work
by the thousand ems, and had a wife and nine small
children dependent upon his labors !
George Sheldon, then, was the favored clerk of this
ancient and honored firm. He was happily moulded
by nature, and not unkindly treated by fortune. He
was short of stature, but of a bearing at once modest
and manly. His large understanding and vivid im
agination were duly balanced — the first being always
the master, the latter always the servant. He had
been well educated in the schools of the city, even
to the acquisition of the common Latin and Greek
classics. He had read extensively, for one of his
age, and with profit. When I met him, he was
twenty ; I but eighteen.
It is not easy to conceive of two persons more un
like than we were at that time. Why we coalesced,
can only be accounted for from the affinity of oppo
sition — a phenomenon not.unknown in the chemistry
of the mind and the affections. Tall men seek short

386 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
wives ; large women favor little husbands. The
blonde is smitten with black eyes and raven hair ;
the brunette falls in love with flaxen locks and azure
looks. All nature's contradictions make all nature's
peace. And so a friendship, which was only termi
nated by the grave, grew up between myself — a raw
adventurer from the country — and George Sheldon,
the educated, disciplined, well-balanced graduate oi
the city.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 387

LETTER XXVI.
ily Situation under my new Master — Discontent — Humiliating Discov
eries — Desire to quit Trade and go to CoUege — Undertake to Re
educate myself.

My dear 0 * * * "^ * *
I have received your kind letter, giving your
adhesion to what I have done, though counseling
me to be less discursive in my narrative hereafter.
Taking this in good part, and promising amendment,
I proceed in my story.
I was, then, eighteen years of age, installed in a
dry-goods store at Hartford, under a respectable and
reasonable master. I had been sufficiently educated
for my station. My parents had now removed from
Eidgefield to Berlin, a distance of but eleven miles
from my present residence, so that I had easy and
frequent communication with them. My uncle,
Chauncey Goodrich, then a Senator of the United
States, lived in an almost contiguous street, and
while in the city, always treated me with the kind
ness and consideration which my relation to him nat
urally dictated. In general, then, my situation was
eligible enough ; and yet I was unhappy.
The truth is, I had now been able to sit in judg
ment upon myself — to review my acquirements, to
18*

388 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
analyze my capacities, to estimate my character — ^to
compare myself with others, and see a little into
the future. The decision was painfal to the ambi
tion which lurked within me. I had all along, un
consciously, cherished a vague idea of some sort of
eminence, and this unhappily had nothing to do with
selling goods or making money. I had lived in
the midst of relations, friends, and alliances, all of
which had cultivated in me trains of thought alien to
my present employment. My connections were re
spectable : some of them eminent, but none of them
rich ; all had acquired their positions without wealth,
and I think it was rather their habit to speak of it
as a very secondary affair. Brought up under such
influences, hOw could I give my heart to trade ? It
was clear, indeed, that I had missed my vocation.
Full of this conviction, I besought my parents to
allow me to quit the store, and attempt to make my
way through college.* Whether for good or ill, 1
* When I -wrote this letter, I waa living at Courbevoie, near Paris.
About that time, a gentleman from Connecticut (Mr. Gilman), whom I
had accidentally met in Paris, and of whom I had made some inquiries re
specting certain eminent men of that State, came to visit me, and brought
me several pamphlets, and among them a catalogue of Yale College, inti
mating that he supposed I must take an interest in the latter, as I was
one of its graduates. I told him this must be a mistake, but he took
the book and showed me that T was made an honorary A. M. by that
institution in 1848 ! This, however, was the first time I ever heard of
it. Thus, after all, though I never went to college, I got into, the cata
logue, but nearly forty years after those my youthful aspirations. I
was a long time in passing my e.\-amination, and getting my degree ;
and if the learned gentlemen, who bestowed upon me this act of grace,
had known how little of their sort of learning I really possessed, I doubt
if they had ever granted to me so high a rank. Several years before, some-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 389
know not, but they decided against the change, and
certainly on substantial grounds. Their circum
stances did not permit them to offer me any consid
erable aid, and without it they feared that I should
meet with insuperable difficulties. I returned to the
store, disheartened at first, but after a time my cour
age revived, and I resolved to re-educate myself I
borrowed some Latin books, and with the aid of
George Sheldon, I passed through the Latin Gram
mar, and penetrated a little way into Virgil. This
was done at night, for during the day I was fully oc
cupied. At the same time, I began — ^with such light and
strength as I possessed — to train my mind — to disci
pline my thoughts, then as untamed as the birds of
the wilderness. I sought to think — to think steadily,
to acquire the power of forcing my understanding up
to a point, and make it stand there and do its work.
I attempted to gain the habit of speaking methodi
cally, logically, and with accumulating power, direct
ed to a particular object. I did all this as well by study
as practice. I read Locke on the Understanding and
Watts on the Mind. I attempted composition, and
aided myself by Blair's Ehetoric.
This was a task, for not only was my time chiefly
occupied by my daily duties, but it was a contest
body addressed me an official letter, informing me that a similar honor
bad been bestowed upon me by the college at Williamstown, but I never
liked to inquire about it, for fear it should turn out to be a joke.
What, indeed, have my attainments to do with coUege honors ?

390 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
against habit — it was myself against myself — and in
this I was almost unaided and alone. I believe few
have this experience, for most persons have progress
ive, methodical education. Their advance up the
steep ascent of knowledge is gradual, measured step
by step ; and this process is performed in youth, and
with the assistance of instructors, and all so gently,
as to pass by without the consciousness of any great
or painful effort, even by the subject of it. A person
who has acquired an education in the usual way—
under the steady training of teachers, from childhood
to the period of graduation — does not appreciate in
his feelings the amount of labor heaped up in this
protracted struggle. If we consider, however, the
momentum at last accumulated in the simple act of
reading, for instance — the eye with electric celerity
compassing every letter in a line, and the mind as
quickly seizing upon every thought, mastering it,
and passing on, the soul meanwhile giving to each
conception its due feeling and emotion — we shall
have a measure by which we may form some esti
mate of the magnitude of that structure in the
mind, called education. It was a work of this sort,
with the habits acquired in its formation, that I was
to undo and do over again. It was my fortune to
find that I had gone wrong, and must retrace my
steps.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 391

LETTER XXVII.
Hartford forty years ago— The Hartford Wits — HaHford at the present
time — The Declaration of War in 1812 — Baltimore Riots— Feeling in
New England — Embargo — Non-intercourse, &c. — Democratic Doctrine
that Opposition, is Treason.
Mt deak 0 ***** *
The city of Hartford, ever noted for its fine sit
uation, in one of the fertile and beautiful vales ofthe
Connecticut, is now distinguished for its wealth — the
fruit of extraordinary sagacity and enterprise on the
part of its inhabitants — as well as for its interesting
institutions — literary, charitable, and philanthropic.
It presented, however, a different aspect at the time
of which I am speaking. It had, indeed, formerly
enjoyed some reputation as a sort of literary focus —
it being the residence of Trumbull, the author of
McFingal, of Hopkins, the bludgeon satirist, author
of the " Hypocrite's Hope," of Theodore Dwight, and
some others, known in their day as the "Hartford
Wits." This distinction was well deserved, for it is
rare indeed that three satirical poets, of so much vig
or, are found working together. It is especially rare
to find them, as in this instance, united in an amica
ble as well as a literary brotherhood.
In my time Hopkins was dead ; Trumbull had left
off poetry for a seat on the bench of the Supreme
Court, and Dwight was devoted to the Connecticut

393 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Mirror — a newspaper distinguished all over the coun
try for its vigilant and spicy vindication of federal-
isra. His New- Year's verses were always looked for
with eagerness, for they usually contained a review of
events, with dashes at the times, in which the doings
of democracy were painted in the unsparing colors
of Hudibrastic ridicule. Many passages of these are
now worthy of being read, as well on account of their
illustration of the spirit of the time, as their keen
and cutting satire.
On the whole, however, Hartford was then a small
commercial town, of four thousand inhabitants, deal
ing in lumber, and smelling of molasses and Old Ja
maica — for it had still some trade with the West In
dies. Though the semi-capital of the State — the yearly
sessions of the legislature being held there and at New
Haven, alternately — it was strongly impressed with
a plodding, mercantile, and mechanical character.
There was a high tone of general intelligence and so
cial respectability about the place, but it had not a
single institution, a single monument, that marked it
as even a provincial metropolis of taste, in literature,
art, or refinement. The leading men were thrifty
mechanics, with a few merchants, and raany shop
keepers, society of course taking its hue from these
dominant classes. There were lawyers, judges, and
public functionaries — men of mark — but their spirit
did not govern the town. There were a few dain
ty patricians, who held themselves aloof, secure of

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 393
that amiable worship which in all ages is rendered
to rank. But where are they now ? The answer
would be a lesson and a warning to those who build
their claims to homage on pretense. Such was the
state of things, at the time I arrived in this city;
Some time after, a new era began to dawn, the light
of which is still visible in the very air and aspect of
the place. Let me give you a few measures of this
striking progress. In 1810, the population of Hart
ford was three thousand nine hundred and fifty-five :
in 1866, it is about twenty-five thousand. The
American Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb, Trinity
College, the Retreat for the Insane, the Wadsworth
Atheneum — all excellent institiitions — have been
founded since my arrival in the town. The churches
— then four in number — have increased to twenty-
five, and by their towering and tasteful spires, give
the place, as you approach it, the aspect of a Holy
City. Every creed and shade of creed is represented,
from Puritan orthodoxy up and down, to Eoman
Catholic, Second Advent, and Synagogue worshipers.
There were three w'cekly journals, five and forty years
ago ; now there are two dailies, eight weeklies, and
two monthlies. The manufacture of books, machines,
carpets, pianos, hardware, hats, rifles, pistols — all es
tablished within forty years — now employ a capital of
five millions of dollars. Colt's pistol-factory, with its
accessories, is a marvelous example of ingenious art
and liberal enterprise. The aggregate Bank Capital

I f

394 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
.is about six millions. The various Insurance Compa
nies spread their protection against fire, far and wide
— reaching into almost every State in the Union. Is
not this progress ?
I could find gratifying themes in pursuing this
general train of events, especially as the prosperity
of Hartford marks the general progress of society in
Connecticut. But chronological propriety impels me,
for the present, in a different direction. Leaving the
humble path of autobiographical gossip, I must now,
hackneyed as the subject may seem, take you within
the wide and sweeping vortex of national history.
Here, indeed, my own story leads, and here you are
bound to follow. I raust tell you of the war of 1812,
for in this I was a soldier, and took my turn in the
tented field! And besides — though we have plenty
of histories on the subject, we have, so far as I know,
very few pictures of the living and moving panorama
of town and village life, during those three years of
national anxiety and humiliation.
About midsummer in the year 1812, the news
came that Congress, with the sanction of the Pres
ident, had declared war* against Great Britain.
* The Declar.uion of War was ratified by the President on the 18th
of June, and the proclamation was issued the next day. The prin
cipal grounds, assigned by tho President for this act, were the impress
ment of seamen by Great Britain, her paper blockades, unsupported
by an adequate force, and various Orders in Council. Let it be remejn-
bered that peace was ¦made by our government in 1814, without saying a
word about impressment — the main ground of the war — and that the Or
ders in Cowncil were repealed within four days after our declaration of

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 395
Sagacious men, no doubt, had foreseen this, but it
came upon the mass of the people here, at the North,
like a thunderbolt. I remember perfectly well the
dark and boding cloud that gathered over the public
mind upon the reception of the news, and this was
deepened into anxiety and alarm by the tragic story
of the Baltimore riot, which speedily followed. The
doctrine had been announced, as well in Congress as
elsewhere, by the democratic leaders, that when war
was declared, opposition must cease — a doctrine
which is more fit for the liveried slaves of despotism
than a free people — but which democracy has since
maintained to the bitter end. I invite your particu
lar attention to this historical fact, for here is the key
not only to the slanders heaped up against New Eng
land at the time, for her opposition to the war, but
to the pertinacity with which they have since been
urged. Even to this day, the " Hartford Conven
tion," "Connecticut Blue Lights," &c., are the grizzly
monsters with which the nursing fathers and moth
ers of democracy frighten their children into obe
dience — just before the elections!
It is well to remember another fact — as explaining
not only events which followed the declaration of
war, but some others in our history. Jefferson de
mocracy, from the beginning, made hatred of Eng
land its chief stock in trade. This feeling, from a

war, and before a gun had leen fired in the confiict! For what, then
did we spend ouj hundred millions of dollars and thirty thousand lives ?

396 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
variety of causes, is indigenous to the masses of
our people. It is greatly increased, as well in amount
as in vehemence, by the large foreign element in our
population, it being a curious fact that emigrants and
refugees of all nations, come hither with an active
dislike of England. Democracy at the beginning,
and democracy still, avails itself of this sentiment —
native as well as foreign. The main cause of the
overthrow of the federalists, was, that they had to
bear the burden of alleged friendship to England.
The war party perfectly well understood, and of
course used, this hostility to England ; and the British
government, as if to make the conflict inevitable,
added to the inherent fuel of popular prejudice, the
flame of indignation arising frora repeated insult and
injury. In this state of things, the foreign popula
tion, already very numerous, exercised a powerful
influence, not only in bringing on and sustaining
the war, but in imparting something of their own
violence to the discussions of the time. It is no
torious that at this period, a large nuraber of for
eigners, with feelings lacerated by exile, and all
turned into channels of hostility to Great Britain,*
held influential positions, either as raerabers of Con-
* John Eandolph complained that almost every leading press iu favc
of the war, was conducted by men who had but recently escaped from
the tyranny or the justice of the British government. He gave as in
stances the Aurora and the Democratic Press, of Philadelphia, one edit
ed by Duane and the other by Binns ; the Whig at Baltimore, edited by
Baptiste Irving ; and the Intelligencer at Washington, by Gales. Fos
ter, the British Minister at Washington when the war was declared.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 397
gress or editors of papers, and these — co-operating
with the democrats — infused into the war partisan
ship, a spirit of intolerance and rancor, perhaps with
out example in our history. It was not surprising,
therefore, that riot and bloodshed should come at the
beginning, or that inveterate prejudice should be per
petuated to. the end.
In the city of Baltimore there was a paper called
the Federal Republican, edited by a highly respect
able and talented young gentleman, named Alexan
der Hanson. In announcing the declaration of war,
this journal also announced, iu terms moderate but
firm, a determination to continue to speak with the
same freedom as before. This was heresy, which
democratic papacy deemed worthy of fire and fagot.
The decree had gone forth that independence was
conspiracy, and opposition was treason. The mob
at Baltimore, largely composed of foreigners, in the
spirit of their leaders, deemed the conduct of the
editor of the Republican worthy of instant punish
ment. Two days after his offense — that is, on the
evening of the 22d of June — an infuriated rabble,
headed by a French apothecary, proceeded to his
printing-ofiice, demolished the building, and laid the
stated soon after in the British House of Commons, that among the mem
bers of Congress who voted for the war, there were no less than six late
members of the Society of United Irishmen ! Eandolph, in allusion to
the spirit of menace and intolerance which was manifested in Congress
by the war party, sarcastically suggested, more than once, that he felt
himself in danger of being tarred and feathered, for expressing his hon-
.CBt convictions. See HUdreth's History, second series, vol. iii. 817.
19*

f f

398

LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,

whole establishment in ruins. Hanson, fortunately,
was in the country, and his partner, though pursued,
and hunted frora house to house, finally escaped.
The magistrates offered no opposition, and the mob,
thus encouraged by tolerance and success, proceeded
to wreak their patriotic vengeance in various direc
tions, and upon a variety of objects. A suggestive
specimen of their fury was manifested in burning
down the house of a free negro, who had spoken in
friendly terms of the British nation !
The Federal Republican was temporarily re-estab
lished at Georgetown, in the District of Columbia:
after a time, however, it was removed to Baltimore, —
Hanson and his friends deeming it their duty to vin
dicate the independence of the' press, thus violently
assailed. They expected a struggle, and prepared
for it. They applied to the authorities for protec
tion, but the mayor refused to interfere, and left
town, doubtless for the purpose of permitting the mob
to have its way. As evening approached, they gath
ered around the printing-office, and began the attack.
Hanson was attended by ©en. Henry Lee and Gen.
lingan, both revolutionary officers, and some twenty
other friends. These received the attack, the doors
and windows being first strongly barricaded. Noth
ing, however, could resist the assailants : they burst
in, and were fired upon by the defenders, one man
being killed, and several wounded. The authorities
now interfered, and upon an express stipulation of

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 399
protection, Hanson and his party surrendered and
were conducted to prison. On their way, they wero
crowded upon, insulted, and threatened by the rab
ble. The promise of the authorities was not kept:
the prison was left unguarded, the licensed mob broke
in. In the confusion which followed, six or seven of
the prisoners escaped : two were saved by the human
ity and presence of mind of a prisoner confined for
crime, and who diverted the pursuit by some ingenious
fi(jtion. The fate of the rest was horrible indeed. They
were thrown down the steps ofthe jail, where they lay
in a bleeding and mangled heap for three hours, being
tortured by kicks, penknives stuck into their flesh,
and hot candle-grease dropped into their eyes. This
revelry was embellished with cries of " Jefferson !
Jefferson !" " Madison I Madison !" aud other demo
cratic watchwords.
General Lingan expired amid these tortures ; Gen
eral Lee survived, but was made a cripple for life.
Hanson was sent out of the city, concealed in a hay
cart. One poor fellow was tarred and feathered, and
carted through the city ; when he fell back as if dead,
the feathers were set on fire to revive him. Having
committed various other similar outrages, the mob at
last ceased its 1-abors. The city authorities exarained
the case, and laid the blame at the door of the con
tumacious editor, while a Baltimore jury, without
hesitation, acquitted the rioters !
The leaders of the war party, as well in their pa-

400 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
pers as in their speech, took the side of the rioters^
and put the responsibility upon their victims. The
example thus set and thus countenanced, was fol
lowed in various places, and especially at Norfolk
and Buffalo. A spirit of menace spread over the
whole country, and even at Hartford there was a fer
ment among the advocates of the war, which threat
ened to break out into open violence, against those
who dared to condemn it. This rose to such a point
that the authorities deemed it necessary to exercise
vigilance and be prepared to meet any such contin
gency. Such was the first chapter in the war of 1812 ; and
it is, I repeat, important to be remembered, for it ex
hibits at once the principle and the practice of the
dominant party in relation to that contest. It as
sumed then, as I have already stated, and it has ever
maintained since, that opposition was treason. On
this principle it is that democracy and its disciples
have since written the history of New England at
this period, and upon this have consigned her to un
mitigated reproach. But partisan history is not a
final judgment: truth and justice survive, and al
ready this high court of appeal is, if I mistake not,
rendering a very different verdict.
If thus the first news of the coming conflict caused
a general gloom in the public mind at the North, reflec
tion only served to deepen it. The remembrances of
the war ofthe Revolution had not wholly passed away.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 401
Connecticut had especially suffered by the inroads of
the enemy : her towns and villages — New Haven, Dan
bury, Norwalk, Fairfield, New London, and others —
having experienced all the horrors of massacre, con
flagration, and violence. It was natural that an event
which suggested a renewal of the conflict, and with
the same proud and powerful enemy, should have
struck deep into the hearts of the people. And be
sides, two-thirds of the inhabitants throughout New
England, were politically opposed to the Administra
tion which now conducted the affairs of the country,
and this opposition was rendered intense by a convic
tion that, for a considerable period, the course of the
government had been ruinous, if not hostile, to the
interests of this section of the country. They were
still federalists, and of the Washington type. They
were for the good old way in politics, religion, and
morals. They had, as I have before stated, a special
dread of democracy, which had originated with Jef
ferson, and which — catching something of the Spirit
of the French Revolution, and being violently prop
agated in the United States by foreigners, drunk
with the fanaticism of that day — was deemed by the
sober people of the North as tainted with infidelity
and licentiousness, threatening alike to the peace of
society and the stability of our institutions.
This party, thus formed, had triumphed in the
country at large, and now for twelve years had ad
ministered the government. During that period, a

402 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
series of acts — the Embargo, Non-importation,* &c. —
had been adopted, which seemed like blows aimed at
New England, where the interests of the people were
specially involved in coramerce. In every point of
view, these were deemed as having proved disastrous :
not a single national object, professed to be aimed at,
* The series of acts here alluded to, and called the "Restrictive
Measures," originated in the various decrees of France and England,
then engaged in deadly hostilities with each other. These decrees con
sisted of the British Orders in Council, 16th May, 1806, declaring the
ports and rivers of France, from Brest to the Elbe, in a state of block
ade, and condemning to seizure and confiscation such vessels as viola
ted this decree.
November 21, following, Bonaparte issued his famous Berlin Decree,
declaring the British Islands in a state of blockade.
January 6, 1807, the British government retaliated, prohibiting the
entire coasting trade with France. November 11, following, came the
British Orders in Council, prohibiting all neutral nations from trading
with France or her allies, except upon the payment of tribute.
December 17, Bonaparte retaliated by his Milan Decree, confiscating
every vessel found in any of his ports which had allowed herself to be
searched, or had paid the tribute demanded by England.
Thus American commerce, between these two wrestling giants, was
seriously embarrassed, though, as it appears, it was not greatly dimin
ished. The carrying trade w.as extensive, and our country grew rich
and prosperous. Our exports were a hundred millions of dollars : our
shipping a million aud a half of tons. {See Lloyd's Speech in the Senate of
the United States, November 21, 1808.) In this state of things, Mr. Jef
ferson astounded the country by proposing an embargo upon all ship
ping within the United States — the avowed object being to protect our
commerce from the European belligerents. No measure could have been
more objectiouable to the ship-owners, in whose behalf it was osten
sibly proposed. It passed into a law December 22d, 1807. Tliis was
hailed as a " magnanimous measure" by France ; at first it was re
ceived with alarm by England, against whom it was really leveled. Mr.
Jefferson believed that it would withhold from England our produce,
and starve her into submission ; at the same time, he no doubt desired
to benefit France, by thus inflicting a heavy blow upon her adversary.
That ouch was one design of the embargo was proved by supplemen
tary acts, forbidding intercourse between the United States and the oon
tifiuous British Provinces. " How," it was asked, " can a law which

ETC. 403
had been attained by these measures. The sincerity
of the government was, indeed, deeply questioned,
for there seemed to be evidences that in professing
one thing, it really sought to attain others. Despite
the long indictment set forth in the Declaration of
War against Great Britain, it was extensively be-
forbida a Vermont farmer from going into Canada to sell potash, protect
our shipping from being seized by the European belligerents ?"
There was, perhaps, never an act of greater despotism than that of
the embargo. It was not limited in time or space : it seemed universal
and perpetual. It consigned to ruin and bankruptcy thousands of our
citizens ; it spread gloom aud despair in our seaports ; it left our ships
rotting at the wharves ; it drove our seamen into foreign service. It not
only inflicted these evils upon our own country, but in some respects it
benefited Great Britain, against whom it was leveled. It stimulated the
British West Indians to vary their crops, aud make themselves inde
pendent of our products ; it enriched Canada, Nova Scotia, and New
Brunswick by turning into their hands the supplying of bread-stuffs
and naval stores ; it built up their navigation at the expense of ours ; it
gave to other nations the rich carrying trade of the world.
Thus this measure proved to be, in practice, as destructive as it waa
erroneous in principle. What would the world think of a universal
and perpetual embargo on our shipping now ? And it was almost as
absurd in 1807 as it would be in 1856. It was, in fact, sinister as to its
origin, absurd as a measure of policy, wrong in principle, and abor
tive in its effects. It was, nevertheless, continued iu force until March,
1809, a period of nearly fifteen months, having spread poverty and ruin
over great part of New England. As a substitute for this measure, a
non-importation act was passed, prohibiting, for one year, all commer
cial intercourse with both France and England.
On the 1st of May, 1810, Congress passed an act excluding all British
and French armed vessels from entering the waters ofthe United States ;
but providing, also, that if either of these nations should modify its
decrees before the 3d of March, ISll, intercourse with it should be
renewed. This condition was apparently complied with by France
(though it afterward appeared to be otherwise), and in November it
was announced by the President's proclamation. The difficulties with
Great Britain, as to her blockade and Orders in Council, however,
continued, and constituted one of the principal grounds of the war, as
Bet forth in the Declaration. A few days after this declaration, however,
news arrived that these acts had been repealed, on the 22d of June,

404 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
lieved that this measure had its true origin in an in
trigue for the presidency.* The people did not be
lieve the war necessary : they did not feel that it was
declared for patriotic purposes. Above all, they held
that the country was in no state of preparation for
such a struggle ; and they doubted the fitness and
capacity of the administration to carry it on with
vigor and success.
These were the views of the mass of the people in
New England. Nor were they alone. Many of the
leaders of the democratic party were adverse to this
measure ; Mr. Madison, the President, believed it to
be rash, and was only persuaded into it by the impe
rious exigency of following the war-cry of young
and vaulting democracy, in order to secure his sec
ond election. Gallatin yielded to it, from a feeling
of party necessity. Randolph openly and strenu
ously opposed it from the beginning to the end.
Stephen Rowe Bradley, sixteen years a senator from
Vermont, and the ablest democratic member of
the Senate frora New England, earnestly counseled
and hence it was urged that the war should cease, as one of its princi
pal causes was withdrawn. Such, however, was not the view of our
government. * " That domination over public opinion which the war party so long
manifested, &c., have conspired to shield Madison from the obloquy
which must ever rest upon this part of his conduct — that of having been
driven by intimidation, and seduced by personal interest aud ambition,
into a course of public conduct, in his own judgment improvident, ii
not highly dangerous."
" The same convictions were fully shared by GaUatin, and probably
also by Monroe, the President's two principal cabinet officers." — HU
dreth's United States, second series, vol. iii. p. 334.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 405
Madison against it.* Fifteen democratic members
of Congress voted against the Declaration of War.
There was, in fact, a large body of reflecting demo
crats in the country who did not approve of the war,
though the vehemence of those who supported it
kept them in silence, or perhaps forced them to ac
quiescence. While such was the fact as to many
leading democrats, the federalists, with one voice,
united in its condemnation.
If such were the objections of New England to
the war, there were others of equal force to the pro
posed method of carrying it on. The plan of the
government was to invade Canada, conquer it, and
hold it as a pledge of peace. In New England, there
were objections of principle, founded as well in the
Constitution, as in policy and morals, against aggres
sive war, especially for avowed purposes of conquest.
And besides, they held that the ocean, and not the
land, was the true theater upon which we were best
qualified to cope with the enemy.
These, I repeat, were the views of New England,
by which I mean the people of New England — not
of a few politicians and party leaders, but of the great
body of the citizens — that is, the entire federal party,
constituting a large majority of the voters. It is a
well-known characteristic of this part of our country,
that all classes read, reflect, and form opinions. These
* General Bradley was so' dissatisfied with the war, that soon after, he
withdrew altogether frdm public life.

406 LETTERS — BIOGEAPHICAL,
give direction to politicians, not politicians to them.
It is important to keep this in view ; it is indispensable
to the formation of a just judgment upon questions
which immediately ensued, and which are matters of
dispute to the present day. It will be seen that even
the Hartford Convention originated with the people,
and was a measure of necessity, dictated by the state
of public feeling and opinion, arising from the condi
tion of the country at large, and New England in
particular. I thus present this picture of the actual state of
things at the commencement of the war, not to
arraign either party as wholly wrong, or to vindi
cate either as wholly right. It was an era of high
party excitement, and in the shock, all were doubt
less forced into false positions. Yet, making due
allowance for these natural and pardonable obliqui
ties, on one side and the other, and instructed by
subsequent events as recorded by history, I do not
hesitate to say that these opinions of the New Eng
land people had a serious and just foundation. Op
position to the war was, therefore, not only their
right, but, with these convictions, it was their duty.
To have submitted to the doctrine that opposition is
treason, would have made them unworthy of the name
and privileges of freemen. That their opposition was,
on the whole, as moderate in spirit and wise in form,
as it was just in principle, is also my firm convic
tion.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 407

LETTER XXVIII
Specks of War in the Atmosphere— The First Year— Operations on the Land
and on the Sea— The Wickedness ofthe Federalists— The Second Year—
The Connecticut MiUtia— Decatur driven into the names— Connecticut
in trouble— I become a Soldier— My First and Last Campaign.
Mt deae 0******
I am not about to write the " History of the War
of 1812" — though that has not yet been done. We
have abundance of books under that title, but a so
ber and just account, rising above the party fire and
smoke of that day, and above the sinister influences
of this, is yet to be written.* It is, however, a task
I shall not undertake — either in these pages or else
where. I am writing my own recollections, and it is
only as these afford glimpses of the period alluded
to, that I shall notice it.
I pass over a variety of things, still in my mem
ory : the gradual deepening of the gloom that spread
over society as the events of the war drew on ; the
bankruptcies of merchants ; the suspension of specie
payments by the banks ; the difficulty of getting
money ; the gradual withering ofthe resources of the
people ; the scarcity of a multitude of articles, alike
* Hildreth's History of thc United States is a strong book — vigorous
in its style and manly in its spirit. Its sketch of the war of 1812 is a
mere ontline, but so far as it goes it seems to me calculated to satisfy
the reader who wishes to obtain an impartial and true view of events,
and of the men that participated in thera

408 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
of luxury, convenience, and necessity ; the stagnation
of trade ; the impoverishment and depression of the
laboring classes; the crushing of the hopes and
prospects of the young, about entering upon the the
ater of active and independent life : in short, that gen
eral sense of anxiety, poverty, and disappointment —
which clouded nearly every brow and nearly every
heart. I pass over those hells of drinking, deception,
and degradation, called recruiting rendezvous. I pass
over the scream of fife and tuck of drum — daily
exhibited in the streets by a miserable set of young
men, for the most part seduced into the array, either
by artifice or liquor. I pass over the patriotic pul
sations of the democracy, aud the lowering disgust
of federalism, as the glorious array of patriots — some
times ten or a dozen men — led by a puffy sergeant,
choking with martial ardor or a close-fitting stock,
passed through our city on their way to the Conquest
of Canada. I pass by Col. C  — a sample of a
large part of the new army officers of that period — a
raw river boatman, suddenly converted into a colonel,
and strutting, with his martial cloak around him, like
a new-fledged Shanghai cock. I pass by the arrival
in our town of Dearborn — " Major-general Dearborn
— coramander-in-chief ofthe American army" — a
great man, and causing a great sensation, then — ^but
" Granny Dearborn" a very short time after.
Leaving these and similar incidents entirely out of
view, and taking a long leap to the close of the year

409
— what saith the record ? General Hull had surren
dered in August — less than sixty days after the dec
laration of war — to the British at Detroit, giving up
his whole army of two thousand men, with all our
forts, garrisons, and territories in that quarter. This,
the direct result of mismanagement on the part of the
Administration, as well in planning the campaign as
in giving an important command to an imbecile of
ficer — was the substance of the first year's operations
against Canada. We just caught a Tartar — that is,
the Tartar took us and our territory, instead of our
taking him ! General Dearborn had indeed three
armies afoot — some ten thousand men, stretching
along the Canada line, from Plattsburg to Michigan ;
and there was some fighting, but nothing effectual
was done. Never was a country in a situation more
humiliating than ours — a great nation, having boast
ed of overrunning Canada in two months — seeing its
own armies beaten, bafSed, and retiring ingloriously
into winter quarters, before an enemy which we had
covered with epithets of ridicule and contempt !
The federalists were very wicked people, and put
ting finger to nose, as they met the democrats, they
said — " We told you so !" Now, "I told you so 1"
is not only a very provoking, but, in general, a very
mean argument. The federalists were very wrong
indeed — positively unchristian. Charity tells us to
comfort the unfortunate, and to pour balm into the
wounded heart. The federalists did no such thing

410 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
Oh, how the Connecticut Mirror, in the hands of
Theodore Dwight, did cast its arrows, right and left,
at the war and its authors ! Poor "Jim Madison :"
poor " Granny Dearborn !" It was indeed very, very
provoking, very improper.
While thus failure and disgrace attended our op
erations upon the land, light broke in upon us from
the ocean. On the 19th of August, three days after
Hull's surrender, another Hull — the gallant Commo
dore — met the Guerriere, and it was ours. Again
the wicked federalists said — " We told you so ! that's
our thunder." This was true enough. The federal
ists had built up the navy : Jefferson and his party
had opposed it. The federalists had urged that — if
we must go to war — the strength of the country
should be put into ships, and that we should meet
the enemy upon the sea. " Not so" — said democra
cy — " we will take Canada !" It was very provoking
of Commodore Hull to capture the Guerriere, for
it gave aid and comfort to the enemy — these black
hearted federalists ! However, other commanders fol
lowed Hull's exaraple. On the 18th of October,
Capt. Jones, in the Wasp, took the British sloop-of
war Frolic ; and on the 25th of the sarae month, the
fierce and fiery Decatur, in the frigate United States,
captured the British frigate Macedonian. In Decem
ber, Bainbridge conquered the Java, after a fearful
conflict. " Hurra for the navy : we told you so !"
said the black-hearted federalists.

411
Such was the first year of the war : the campaign
of 1813 opened upon a wider and more varied field.
Among its incidents upon the land, were the disas
trous operations of Winchester, at Frenchtown — ¦
which clothed all Kentucky in mourning for its gal-
laut sons, fallen in battle ; our capture of York, in
Canada, costing the life of the lamented Pike ; Har
rison's effective resistance at the siege of Fort Meigs ;
the battle of the Thames, and the death of the great
Indian chief Tecumseh — important events, leading
finally to the recovery of Detroit. To these were add
ed the retirement of General Dearborn — the President
insisting he was sick, while the general, not taking
or not relishing the joke, insisted that he was never
better in his life ; the succession of Wilkinson as
commander-in-chief — soon, however, to be superseded
and tried by court-martial for his blunders and fail
ures ; the magnificent attempt to take Montreal, and
its equally magnificent abortion ; and finally, late in
the year, the bloody and desolating ravages by the
British, of Buffalo, Black Rock, Lewiston, &c., &c.,
in revenge for our burning the Canadian village of
Newark, by which we turned four hundred helpless
people out of doors in midwinter. Thus the year,
which had presented some brilliant instances of cour
age and conduct, closed in general disappointment
and humiliation, so far as our land operations were
concerned. " We told you so !" said the wicked fed
eralists, and many a democratic ear tingled at the gibe.

413 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Yet light again — with some sad and disheartening
hadows — carae from the sea. On the 21st of Feb
ruary, Captain Lawrence took the Peacock, but on
the 4th of June following, gave up his life on the deck
of the Chesapeake — captured by the Shannon — be
queathing, however, to his country the glorious
motto, worthy of all great occasions — " Don't give
up the ship I" On the 14th of August the American
.Argus quailed to the British Pelican ; in September,
the British Boxer became the prize of the American
Enterprise. A greater triuraph was at hand. On the
10th of this raonth. Perry met the enemy on Lake
Erie, and " they were ours !" It was indeed a glorious
victory ; the entire British fleet — two ships, two brigs,
one schooner, and one sloop — falling into our hands.
" We told you so : that's our thunder 1" said the
exultant but provoking federalists. " It is our thun
der, too !" said the democrats. '' Hurra for the navy !"
said both parties. " Here's to Hull and Decatur and
Jones and Biddle and Bainbridge, and all the rest 1"
said everybody. There was one point of union at last,
and so it was to the end of the war. The little navy
had conquered democratic prejudice, and fought itself
into national favor. It was indeed a glorious thing — ¦
saving the honor of the country, tarnished by imbecil
ity and disaster upon the land, and teaching a wise
lesson as to the true policy to be pursued, in case of
future conflict with any European enemy : let us meet
them upon the sea !

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, E'rC. 413
I must not omit an episode of the war at this pe
riod, in which I was concerned. On the first of June,
1813, Commodore Decatur, in the United States, at
tended by the Macedonian and the sloop-of-war Hor
net, having passed from New York through the
Sound, attempted to get out to sea by way of Mon-
tauk Point. Here they were met by the British fleet,
under Commodore Hardy, and driven into the Thames
at New London. The enemy's force was soon in
creased by the arrival of other ships of war, and
these, anchoring off Gull Island so as to block up the
port, seemed to threaten a speedy attack. Great panic
immediately ensued, as well at New London as along
the borders of the Sound. The specie of the banks
in that city was removed to Norwich, and the wo
men and children dispersed themselves among the
interior towns and villages. No adequate means of
defense existed along the line of the New England
coast — seven hundred miles in extent. The regu
lar troops had nearly all been marched off to invade
Canada. The general government had, furthermore,
called upon the New England States to place a por
tion of the militia at their disposal for this object.
This had been refused on several grounds : one was,
that the Constitution provided only three contingen
cies, in which the militia could be lawfully placed
under the command of the President, and these were,
to repel invasion, suppress insurrection, and execute ihe
laws. Neither of these emergencies existed in the
Vol. I.— 20

414 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
present case. Another ground of refusal was, that the
coasts, being left defenceless, the retaining of the mili
tia was a measure dictated by every consideration of
prudence. Still another objection was, that the general
government had so organized and distributed the na
tional forces, as to make the militia fall under the
coraraand of the army officers — a principle always
resisted by the country, in every period of its national
history. On the whole, the government scheme, in
respect to the militia, was regarded, and very justly,
as analogous to the systems of conscription in the
military despotisms of Europe, and — if once tolerated
and passed into practice — as alike hostile to our prin
ciples and threatening to our liberties. The fear of
seeing our freedom fall before some ambitious mili
tary leader, had prevailed in the convention which
framed our Constitution, and it was this which had
induced that far-seeing body to circumscribe the
power of the President, in regard to the militia, with
in the clear and narrow limits already mentioned.
Prudence and patriotism alike dictated, in the present
instance, that this great bulwark of liberty should be
maintained. These, fortunately for the country, were the views
of the New England States at this period, and upon
these they acted. There was then and has been since,
much claraor by the war party against their conduct
in this instance, but every lover of his country should
render homage to the wisdom and patriotism of those

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 415
leaders who guided the councils of New England, at
this crisis. The question was then settled, and doubt
less settled forever, that by no artifice can the system
of conscription, giving unlimited command over the
militia to the President, be consummated. The rule
of the Constitution, 'in this respect, has been con
firmed, as not only a principle in theory, but as a rule
of practice.
I remember the discussions on this subject which
took place at the North, during this period. Besides
the objections already mentioned against placing the
militia at the disposal of the President — and besides
the general hostility of the people to sending their
sons forth for the avowed purpose of conquest —
there was another motive, and a very active one,
tending in the same direction. The new army officers,
with some honorable exceptions, were • held in very
light esteem, as well personally as professionally. Al
most without exception, ihe appointments were bestowed
upon partisans ofthe Preside-nt. Many of the officers
were notoriously unfit for the places given to them.*
* This was certainly the case in New England, and I know of no oir-
cumstance in the whole conduct of the war, that operated so powerfully
as this, to destroy the confidence of the people in the government, and
to exasperate them against it. Many of the officers, especially those of
the lower grade, had no qualifications for the places they filled but their
democracy. This was pointed out to the President : he was advised
that if he would commission certain persons of the federal party, who
were eonspicuoiis for their military quali fioatious, and who were also
williug to receive commissions, that it would do more than any thing
else to break the opposition to the war. This he declined, saying that
the offices belonged of right to those who supported his administration,
and besides, that he should disgust his own party by such a course.

416 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
Dearborn especially was well known in New Eng
land, and was regarded as wholly incompetent to the
responsible command devolved upon him. Hull's
surrender, Dearborn's failures, and Wilkinson's abor
tions, justified ahd increased this general want of con
fidence in the new army appointments. Even if other
objections had not existed, the people would have
revolted at the idea of sending their sons to perish
ingloriously along the Canadian borders, under the
direction of incompetent commanders, appointed mi
merely partisan principles.
But nOw a new state of things had arisen in Connec
ticut : our own territory was threatened. For this,
the State government had made wise preparation,
and on their part there was no hesitation.* It was
midsummer — a period when the husbandmen could
* Party vehemence has represented that the New England States, at
this period, not only opposed the war by words but by deeds ; that in
fact they were prepared to go over to the enemy. Nothing could be
more untrue. Whatever might be the political opinions of the feder
alists, when the war was declared. Great Britain was regarded as an en
emy. I can affirm, that, although I was in the very midst ofthe '* old
federalists" of Conneotiout, I never heard a word fall from the lips of
auy one of them, expressive of an opposite sentiment. I no doubt
caught the feelings of those around me, and I am conscious of having
always felt, through the war, that the British were our national ene
mies. The records of Connecticut prove, conclusively, that this idea
was aa strongly entertained by the government of that State aa by the
general government itself. The following are extracts from the doings
of the legislature, in their extra session, called in August, 1813, in con
sequence ofthe declaration of war ; and the conduct ofthe State was in
accordance with these views.
" War, always calamitous, in this case portentous of great evils, enact
ed against a nation powerful in her armies, and without a rival on the
ocean, can not be viewed by us but with the deepest regret. A nation

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 417
ill afford to leave their farms : so orders were sent by
Governor Smith* to dispatch at once the companiea
of militia from the larger towns to the defense of New
London, and the neighboring country. At that timi
I belonged to an artillery company, and this was among
those ordered to the coast. I received a summons at
four o'clock in the afternoon, to be ready to march
the next day at sunrise. I went at once to consult
without fleets, without armies, with an impoverished treasury, with a
frontier by sea and land extending many hundred miles, feebly defend
ed — waging a war, hath not flrst ' counted the cost.'
*' By the Constitution of the United States, the power of declaring
war is vested in Congress. They have declared war against Great Brit
ain. However much this measure is regretted, the General Assembly,
ever regardful of their duty to the general government, will perform all
those obligations resulti ng from this act. With this view, they have
at this session provided for the more effectual organization of the mil
itary force of the State, and a supply of the munitions of war. These
will be employed, should the public exigencies require it, in defense of
this State, and of our sister States, in compliance with the Constitution ;
and it is not to be doubted, but that the citizens of this State will be
found, at the constitutional call of their country, among the foremost in
its defense."
* Eoger Griswold was Governor at the time the war was declared,
but in October, 1812, during the session of the legislature, he died at his
residence in Norwich. John Cotton Smith, then Lieutenant-governor,
became acting governor, and the next April was elected Governor ofthe
State. Eoger Griswold was born at Lyme in 1762 : having graduated
at Yale College, he devoted himself to the law, and soon ro e to emi
nence. In 1794 he was elected to Congress, where he continued for
many years, being a leader ofthe federal party. Mr. Webster once told
me that he considered him one ofthe most accomplished parliamentary
debaters our country has produced. During his time there waa an Irish
man in Congress from Vermont, named Matthew Lyon, of whom tJio
poet Honeywood thus sings :
" I'm rugged Mat,
The Democrat —
Berate me as you please, sir ;
True Paddy- whack.
Ne'er turn'd his back.
Nor bow'd his head to desar."

418 LETTEES— -BIOGEAPHICAL,
my uncle — who, by the way, was at that time not
only mayor of the city, but Lieutenant-governor of
the State. He had a short time before promised to
make me one of his aids, and perhaps thoughtl
should expect him now to fulfill his engagement.
He soon set that matter at rest.
" You must of course go," said he. " We old fed
eralists can not shelter our nephews, when there is a
question of defending our own territory."
" Ought I not to consult my parents ?" said I.
I will go down and see them, to-morrow," he re ¦
plied. " Certainly then I shall go : I wish to go : my only
feeling is that my mother may have some anxiety."
" I will see her to-morrow : you may be at ease
on that subject. Be ready to march at sunrise, ac
cording to your orders. I will come and see you
before you start."
The next morning, while it was yet dark, he came.
gave rae letters of introduction to Judge Brainard,
father of the poet. Judge Perkins, and General Wil
liams. He also supplied me with ten dollars, a wel
come addition to ray light purse. After a little ad'
vice, he said — " I have only one thing to add — if
you corae to a fight, douH run away till the rest do.
Good-by!"
This man, one day, spit in Griswold's face in the Eepresentatives' Hall,
and as the democratic majority refused to punish him, Griswold gave
him a severe beating with his cane. This was the first of those indecent
brawls which have disgraced our national assembly.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 419
The next morning— June 7, 1813 — about sunrise,
the whole company, nearly sixty in number, mount
ed iu wagons, departed. At sunset, we were on the
heights, two miles back of New London. No provi
sion had been made for us, and so we went supper-
less to bed, in a large empty barn. I scarcely closed
my eyes, partly because it was my first experiment
in sleeping on the floor, and partly because of the
terrific snoring of a fellow-soldier, by the name of
C . . . ., who chanced to be at my side. Never have I
heard such a succession of choking, suffocating, stran
gling sounds as issued from his throat. I expected
that he would die, and indeed once or twice I thought
he was dead. Strange to say, he got up the next
morning in excellent condition, and seemed, indeed, to
feel better for the exercise. This man became quite a
character before the campaign was over ; he got the
title of jEoIus, and as he could not be tolerated in
the barracks, he was provided with a tent, at a good
distance, where he blew his blast without restraint.
I need only add, that, at the close of the campaign,
he was the fattest man in the company.
I was glad to see the daylight. The weather was
fine, and as the sun came up, we saw the British fleet
—some half dozen large ships of war — lying off the
mouth of the Thames. They seemed very near, at
hand, and for the first time I realized my situation — ¦
that of a soldier, who was likely soon to be engaged
in battle. I said nothing of my emotions : indeed,

420 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
words were unnecessary. I watched the counte
nances of my companions as they first caught a view
of the black and portentous squadron, and I read iii
almost every bosom a reflection of my own feelings.
We were, however, not all sentimentalists. There
were among us, as doubtless in all such companies, a
supply of witty, reckless Gallios, who gave a cheerful
turn to our thoughts. We soon dispersed among the
inhabitants, scattered over the neighboring hills and
valleys, for breakfast. Like hungry wolves, we fell
upon the lean larders, and left famine behind. 01
course every one offered to pay, but not one person
would accept a farthing : we were, indeed, received
as protectors and deliverers. It was something, after
all, to be soldiers ! With our stomachs fortified, and
our consciousness flattered, we came cheerfully to
gether. At ten o'clock, we were mustered, and began our
march, all in our best trim : cocked hats, long-tailed
blue coats, with red facings, white pantaloons, and
shining cutlasses at our sides. Our glittering cannon
moved along with the solemnity of elephants. It was,
in fact, a fine company — all young men, and many
from the best families in Hartford. Our captain, John
son, was an eminent laAvyer, of martial appearance,
and great taste for military affairs. He afterward
rose to the rank of general. Mosely, the first-lieu
tenant, was six feet four inches high — a young law
yer, nephew of Oliver Wolcott — and of high social

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 421
and professional standing. Screamed the fife, rolled
the drum — as we entered New London ! The streets
presented some confusion, for still the people were
removing back into the country, as an attack was
daily expected. A few military companies were also
gathering into the town. We were, however, not
wholly overlooked : women put their heads out . of
the windows, and smiled their gratitude as we passed
along. Men stopped, and surveyed us with evident
signs of approbation. Louder screamed our fife,
deeper rolled our drum, and the glorious music
echoed and re-echoed — bounded and rebounded — ¦
from the reverberating walls of the streets. It was
a glorious thing to belong to such a company ! At
last we came to a halt in one of the public squares.
Then there was racing and chasing of aid-de-camps,
in buff and feathers, for four mortal hours, during
which our martial pride wilted a little in the broil
ing sun. At four o'clock in the afternoon, we were
transported across the Thames, to the village of Gro
ton, and took up our quarters in a large house, on
the bank of the river, vacated for our use. Two
immense kettles — the one filled with junks of salt
beef and the other with unwashed potatoes — were
swung upon the kitchen trammels, and at six o'clock
in the evening we were permitted each to fish out his
dinner from the seething mass. That was my first
soldier's supper ; and after all, it was a welcome and
relishing meal. 20*

433 LETTERS — BIOGEAPHICAL,

LETTER XXIX.
Description of New London — Fort Trumbull — Fort Griswold — The Brit
ish Fleet — Decatur and his Ships m the Tliames — Commodore Hardy-
Letters from Home — Performances of the Hartford Company— Fishing
— A few British Broadsides — Apprehensions of an Attach — Great Prep-
aratio-ns — Sober Second Thoughts — On Guard — A Suspicious Customer
— Alarm, alarm 1 — Company called out — Expectations of instant Battle
— Corporal T.'s Nightmai'e — Consequences' — Infiuence of Camp Life —
Return to Hartford — Land Warrants — Bl-ue Lights — Decatur, Biddle,
and Jones,
Mt deak 0 ***** *
I must attempt to give you an idea of our posi
tion, as now established in our barracks. New Lon
don, as you doubtless know, is situated on the west
ern bank of the River Thames, three railes from its
mouth. It has now ten or twelve thousand inhabit
ants, but at the time I am speaking of there were not
more than four thousand. The entrance to the river
is broad, and affords a fine harbor. This is defended
by Fort Trumbull on the western side of the river,
half a mile below the city. It was commanded, at
two several periods, by my grandfather. Colonel El}',*
during the Revolutionary war, but was then a place
of little strength. It fell into disrepair, but had been
* " Dr. John Ely, of Lyme (1776), performed a tour of duty here as
captain and major, and also as physician and surgeon. In July ho was
sent to visit the northern army, and employ his skill in arresting the
small-pox, which was theu raging in the camp with great virulence." —
Caulhin's History of New London, p. 621. Colonels Latimer, Ely, &c.,
performed tours of duty, with their respective regiments, at New Lon
don and Groton, 1777. — Ibid. p. 526.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 423
rebuilt, and contained a garrison of six or seven hun
dred soldiers during the war of 1812. It has recently
been reconstructed on an am pte scale, and is at pres
ent one of the most complete of our fortifications,
mounting eighty heavy guns, and having accommo
dations for eight hundred men.
Opposite to New London is the village of Groton,
the main street running along the river bank ; on an
eminence some hundred rods from the river, and com
manding a view of the surrounding country, inclu
ding the harbor and the islands which lie scattered
near it in the Sound, is the site of Fort Griswold —
the scene of one of the saddest tragedies in our revo
lutionary annals. Here is now a monument one hun
dred and thirty feet in height, erected by the State,
in commemoration of this event. The old fort is,
however, in ruins, though a small attached battery,
lower down, and more suited to effective defense of
the harbor, has been rebuilt. In my time. Fort Gris
wold was in tolerable repair. Our company, as well
as other portions of the militia, labored upon it, and
strengthened it, as well by completing its works as
by erecting a small redoubt upon the southeastern
side. To the defense of the latter, in case of attack,
the Hartford company was assigned.
About a week after our arrival, over a thousand
militia, gathered from various parts of the State, were
stationed along the river, chiefly on the eastern bank.
Decatur had drawn his three ships up the stream as

434 LETTEES — ^BIOGEAPmCAL,
far as possible, some twelve miles from its mouth,
and near the city of Norwich. Here the river is re
duced to three hundred feet in width, and flows be
tween high rocky banks. On one of these, called
Allyn's Mountain — commanding a wide view even
as far south as the harbor — light intrenchments were
thrown up, being deemed an' effectual defense against
any attack likely to be made by the enemy.
The British squadron had been for some time on
the coast. As early as April, Commodore Hardy, in
the flag-ship Ramiles, with the Orpheus and other
vessels, having erected their standard on Block Isl
and, cruised in this quarter. The people of New
London, who had hitherto remained sheltered from
the war, were now suddenly reminded of the British
fleet which came hither under the vindictive Arnold*
* Long Island Sound, and its shores ou both sides, were the scenes
of active and stirring events during the Eevolutionary war. This sheet
of water, as well as Long Island itself, and the city of New York at its
western extremity, were for a long time in the possession ofthe enemy.
Jjarge British fleets were often seen sweeping through the Sound, and
always carried terror into the towns and villages of Connecticut along
the northern shore. On the Sth of September, 1781, a fleet of thirty-
two vessels, of all classes, conveyed to New London a force of about two
thousand men. These were landed the next day, and marched upon the
towu. All was panic and confusion among the inhabitants. Colonel
Ledyard, with such means as could be mustered, took his station at
Fort Griswold. A force of twenty-three men at Fort Trumbull — which
was only a battery for defense toward the water, and open behind — on
the approach of the enemy, fired a volley, and crossed the river to Fort
Griswold. Arnold, amid random shots which did some execution, en
tered the town'. The work of destruction then commenced. The torch
was applied, and a long line of fire soon enveloped the place. Shops,
stores, houses, vessels, wharves, boats, rigging, were enveloped in smoke
and flame. Hogsheads of sugar and rum, and tubs of butter wero
knocked in, and the flames, seizing upon the alcohol and grease, rap

435
thirty years before, and left behind him an imperish
able remembrance of outrage and infamy.
The British commander, Hardy, conducted with
the utmost courtesy and humanity, but still there vvas
a feeling of uneasiness along the shore. This was
deepened into anxiety and alarm, on the arrival of
Decatur and his ships, and the consequent gathering
of the British forces around the harbor, as if for at-
in rivers of flre along the gutters of the streets. Arnold was born
near this place, and was well acquainted with it. He used his informa
tion to eflfect the destruction of the best parts of the city, and nearly
all its stores of merchandise, &c.
On the other side of the river a deeper tragedy was being enacted.
Colonel Eyre had been dispatched against Fort Griswold with two Brit
ish regiments. The fort itself was an oblong square, with bastions at
opposite angles — its long side Ironting the river. Its defenders, under
Colonel Ledyard, were but oue hundred and fifty men. About noon
the enemy made their attack in solid column. They were at first re
ceived with a few deadly volleys, and theu bya quick, steady, destruc
tive firo. Both attack and defense were flrm and determined. The men
within seemed each a hero. The two British commanders fell. But
the enemy at last conquered by numbers. They marched in, and Col.
Ledyard ordered his men to throw down their arras. A few, however,
in oue of the bastions still resisted. This irritated the British, and
they continued their deadly fire from the parapets, even upou the sur
rendered Americans.
At last, the British major, Brorafield, on whom the command had
devolved, entered,, and demanded, "Who eomm.inds this fort?" "I
did," said Col. Ledyard, "but you do now." At the same tirae, he
presented his sword, in token of submission. The ferocious command
er took the weapon aud plunged it in the owner's bosom ! At the same
moment the attendants rushed upon the prostrate and bleeding vic
tim, and dispatched him with their bayonets. The work of butchery
then went on against the survivors. At last the enemy departed, leav
ing eighty-five Americans dead, and about thirty-five regarded as mor
tally wounded— having first stripped them, and then leaving them ex
posed to the broiling sun. More than half this butchery took place
after the surrender. A small number, who survived, were taken away
as prisoners.
Sucli was the desolating expedition of the traitor, Benedict Arnold,

436 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
tack. When we arrived, the squadron consisted, 1
think, of two ships-of-the-line, two frigates, and a
number of smaller vessels. There was, however, a
constant movement among thera— the force being
frequently diminished, and as firequently augmented.
These changes were the occasion of constant alarm
along the shore, and scarcely a day passed that we
had not some rumor of a meditated attack.
Such was the state of public affairs on the surface.
As to myself I was soon drilled into the habits of a
soldier. I had been permitted to go to New London
and deliver my letters of introduction. I received
letters from home, and in one of these, from my father,
which I have preserved, I find the following passages :
" We hope you will pay very exact attention to your conduct
and behavior, while you are a soldier. You have our prayers
for your welfare and that of your comrades. Study to ingra
tiate yourself with them, hy your kindness, and especially with
your officers, by your cheerful obedience to theu- orders. We

against New London. It adds to the horror, inspired by such de
tails, to know that he was accompanied by a large number of Ameri
cans, who, however, had joined the British, and thus came to aid iu
the work of death, ruin, and despair. Such is war.' The next day, the
ships, having received the troops, departed, leaving a dreadful seene of
havoc and desolation behind them. New London was, indeed, little
batter than a ruin.
The memory of this event, and the natural hatred consequently in
spired by the British name, still lives here and in the neighborhood.
The anniversary ofthe massacre at Groton fort was long celebrated with
sad solemnities. A lofty monument now points to heaven, in protest
against the crime it records. Such deeds never die, aud the world is
dotted all over with them — too many perpetrated by men who bore the
British name. Is this the explanation of the general dislike of Great
Brilahi, llironghout the civilized world?

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 437
hear that there is an additional British force arrived within a
few days. How Jong they will think it worth while to keep up
the blockade at New London, is nncertain : they will not, at
any rate, consult our convenience. We are in hopes the British
will make no attack upon New London, and that you will not
he called into a conflict with them. But we raust leave this to
the overruling of a merciful God, as also the issue, should he
permit such an event. Should you he called to engage with
them, I hope arid trust that you will do your duty, and defend
your country, which is just and right, though it may not be so
to engage in offensive war.
" I wish to remind you, my dear son, of the necessity of being
prepared for death, at all times and hy all persons. This is spe
cially important to a soldier. This will arm you with courage
to meet whatever God shall call you to experience. It is no
evidence of courage for persons to rush into danger in a thought
less or wicked manner ; it is a better and surer courage which
rests upon a deep sense of duty, and which always keeps the
soldier ready to die at any moment — even at the beat of the
drum." There, my dear C  , is a specimen of old Pres
byterian, Blue Light, Hartford Convention Federal
ism, during the "late war!" It was good doctrine
then, and it is good doctrine now : good to live by,
and good to die by. At all events, as this letter
came from home, and told me of the welfare of my
friends ; as it came also with a large bundle of tea,
sugar, dried beef and other things, with several pairs
of stockings, mended up by my mother, and abun
dance of messages and good wishes, and sundry letters
and scraps of letters— it put me in good heart, wheth
er for peace or war. Who would not be a soldier, it

438 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
thereby he becomes the object of such sympathy?
Fortified by this aid and comfort,* I could cheerfully
have gone to fight the British, or anybody else -
" where duty called me."
The ofificers of our company were rigid disciphna
rians, and accordingly we were drilled for about four
hours each day. We soon gained much reputation
for our martial exercises and our tidy appearance.
Many people came over from New London to wit
ness our performances. Among these were often
persons of distinction. On two occasions, Decatur,
Biddle, and Jones came to see us, and complimented
us very heartily. On Sundays, we marched two railes
to church. Being in our best guise, we caused quite
a sensation. Men and women, boys and girls, stream
ed along at our flanks, often in a broiling sun, yet
always with admiring looks.
After the morning drill, we were generally at
leisure for the rest of the day, taking our turns, how
ever, on guard, and in other occasional duties. Most
* Among the letters alluded to, was the following :
Haetfokd, June 12, 1813.
My deak Samoel :
I had the pleasure to receive yesterday your letter by Mr. Whiting.
I am happy to be informed of your health, and that you have the good
fare of a soldier : whatever it may waut of the delicacies of the luxu
rious table of the citizen, will be made up to you in the zest you will
have when you return to it. The principal thing you have to attend
to is the care of your health, and that also you will best learn, as we do
every thing, by experience. Your father will be here to-day. We are
all well. Write by every opportunity.
Your affectionate uncle, Chaunoet Goodbich.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 439
of the soldiers gave up their rations of mess beef
and potatoes, and lived on their own resources. We
formed ourselves into a general club for a supply of
fresh fish. Every day three of us went out fishing,
and generally returned with a half bushel basketful
of various kinds, among which the blackfish or ta-
taug — now so greatly esteemed — was always abun
dant. I was employed by the captain to keep his
journal of our proceedings, and sometimes I was dis
patched to New London, or to sorae one of the officers
along the line, with a letter ora parcel. I established
a friendly acquaintance with old Mrs. Avery, who
kept a supply of excellent bread and butter, milk
and eggs. I visited Fort Trumbull, and the block
aded fleet up the river. Frequently I strolled into
the country, and now and then went to see " Mrs.
Bailey," who even at that early period was a ce
lebrity of Groton. I have never seen such fierce de
mocracy as in this village, fed, as it doubtless is, upon
the remembrance of the British massacre at the fort ;
and Mrs. Bailey was filled with its most peppery es
sence.. The story of the flannel petticoat* was then

''' When Decatur took refuge in New London harbor, the inhabitants
of Groton were thrown into great alarm. At this moment a messenger
waa sent to Fort Griswold for flannel, to be used for the cannon.
Most of the portable goods had been sent away, and the messenger was
unsuccessful, until he met Mrs. Anna Bailey, who instantly took off her
flannel petticoat and heartily devoted it to the patriotic cause of defense.
It was carried to the fortress, and displayed on a pike. The story being
told, the garrison cheered, and the "martial petticoat" became almost as
celebrated as Mahomet's breeches. The story went over the whole

430 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
recent, but it had marked her for immortality. All
the soldiers went to see her, and she sang Jefferson
and Liberty to them with great spirit. Once a sol
dier talked " old federalism" to her, by way of jest :
whereupon she got up, and holding out her petticoat,
danced and sang Jefferson and Liberty at him, as if
that were suflficient to strike him dead.
I remember that on one occasion H . . . . A . . . ,
my special companion, and myself were sent with a
letter to a lieutenant, who commanded a small picket
on the eastern shore, near the mouth of the river —
that is, at Point Groton. It was a distance of some
three miles. The weather was pleasant, and our route
lay along the shore of the stream, which opens into
a wide bay, as it meets the Sound. As we approach
ed the southern point of the shore, we found our
selves quite near to the British squadron. One of
the vessels, which we knew as the Acasta* — for we
had learned all their names — was under full sail in
a light wind, and coraing up toward the shore. She
was already so near that we could see the men, and
note every movement on the deck. While we were
admiring the beautiful appearance of the ship, we
suddenly saw several white puft's issue from her sides,
country, and when General Jackson (then President) came to New Lon
don, he visited this lady. She is said to have given him a very demon-
Btrative reception. She died January 10, 1851, aged 92 years.
* This ship was noted for her beauty ; she was in fact the belle of
the fleet, and was said to have been built forthe Duke of Clarence, who
served in the navy till he becauie admiral, and was afterward King of
England, under the title of William IV.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 431
and uncoil themselves into volumes of smoke. Then
came a deafening roar ; a moment after, and in the
very midst of it, there were wild howls in the air,
above our heads. At a little distance beyond, the
ground was plowed up, scattering the soil around,
and the top of one of the forest trees, of which a
few were scattered here and there, was cut asunder,
and fell almost at our feet.
We understood the joke in an instant, and so did
the lieutenant who commanded the picket. He was
the object of the attack, and the broadside of the
Acasta, sending its shot over our heads, had hurled
one or two balls crashing through the roof of the little
fish-hut, which he and his men occupied. In less than
five minutes, they were seen trotting off at a round
pace, with their cannon, jerking right and left, over
the rough ground behind them. Several other shots
were given, but the party escaped in safety. My
companion and myself ensconced ourselves behind
the rocks, and though it was grave sport, we enjoyed
it exceedingly. We could trace the cannon-balls as
they flew by looking like globes of mist, twinkling
through the air. Several of them passed close over
our heads, and grooved the earth, in long trenches, at
our sides. The noise they made, as they rose high
in the air, was a strange mixture, between a howl and
a scream. After having thus showed her teeth, and
made a great noise, the frigate returned to her an
chorage, and all was quiet. I hope I shall not de-

433 LETIEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
grade myself, as a soldier, in your eyes, by confess
ing that this was the only battle in which I was en
gaged during this glorious war !
I must, however, mention one circumstance, which
tried the souls of our company. Let me premise that,
on a 'certain Saturday, a large accession to the British
force arrived in the bay, the whole number of vessels,
of all kinds, amounting to fourteen. This looked
very much like -an attack, and accordingly there was
a feverish anxiety among the inhabitants of New
London and the vicinity, and a general bustle in the
army, frora Groton Point to Allyn's Mountain. A
large body of militia was set to work upon Fort
Griswold. Our corapany was drilled in the little re
doubt which we were to defend, and every prepara
tion was made to give the enemy a warm reception.
The general idea was, that a landing of British troops
would be made on the eastern side, and that we
should take the brunt ofthe first attack.
The sun set in clouds, and as the evening advanced,
bursts of thunder, attended by flashes of lightning,
muttered along the distant horizon. Our company
were admonished to sleep on their arms. Every
thing wore a rather ominous appearance. There were
no signs of cowardice in the men, but they looked
thoughtful ; andwhen Bill W . . . ., the laureate wit
of the corapany, let off some of his best jokes —
which would ordinarily have set the whole corps in a
roar — he was answered by a dead silence. It chanced

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 433
that I was that night on guard. My turn came at
ten o'clock. Taking my gun, I paced the bank of
the river, back and forth, in front of our barracks.
I had received orders to let nothing pass, by land or
water. It was intensely dark, but at frequent inter
vals, thin flashes of lightning sprang up against the
distant sky, behind dark rolling masses of clouds.
Gradually the lights in the streets and windows of
New London, stretching in a long line on the oppo
site side of the river, were extinguished one by one,
a few remaining, however, as sentinels, indicating
anxiety and watchfulness. The sounds on all sides
were at last hushed, and left the world to darkness
and to me. More than half of my two-hours' watch
had passed, when I heard the dip of oars and the flap
ping of waves against the prow of a boat. I looked
in the direction of the sounds, and at last descried
the dusky outline of a small craft, stealing down the
river. I cried out — " Boat ahoy ! who goes there ?"
My voice echoed portentously in the silence, but no
answer was given, and the low, black, raking appari
tion glided on its way. Again I challenged, bilt there
was still no reply. On went the ghost ! I cocked my
gun. The click sounded ominously on the still night
air. I began to consider the horror of shooting some
fellow-being in the dark. I called a third time, and
not without avail. The rudder was turned, the boat
whirled on her heel, and a man came ashore. Ac
cording to my orders, I marshaled him to the guard-

434 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
room, and gave notice of what had happened, to the
captain. The man was only a fisherman, going home,
but he was detained till morning. So, you see, I can
boast that I made one prisoner. My watch was soon
over, and returning to my station, I laid down to sleep.
All was soon quiet, and I was buried in profound
repose, when suddenly there was a cry in the main
barrack-room, overhead — "Alarm! alarm!"
"Alarm! alarm!" was echoed by twenty voices,
attended by quick, shuffling sounds, and followed by
a hurried rush of men down the staircase. A moment
after, the guard in front discharged his musket, and
was answered by a long line of reports, up and down
the river, from the various sentinels extending for
half a dozen miles. Then came the roll of drums, and
the mu.stering of the men. Several of our company
had been out to see what was going on : they came
back, saying that the enemy was approaching ! J.
M . . . . distinctly heard the roar of cannon, and posi
tively saw the flashes of muskets. B. W  found
out that the attack had already begun upon our
southern pickets.. Nobody doubted that our time
had corae !
In a very few minutes our company was drawn up
in line, and the roll was called. It was still dark, but
the faint flashes gave us now and theu a glimpse ol
each other's faces. I think we were a ghostly look
ing set, but it was perhaps owing to the bluish com
plexion of the light. J. S  , of West Hartford, who

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 435
marched at my left shoulder— usually the lightest-
hearted fellow in the conipany — whispered to me,
" Goodrich, I'd give fifty dollars to be at West Divi
sion !" For myself I felt rather serious, and asked
a certain anxious feeling in my stomach — "What's to
be done ?" I thought of my father's letter, and my
uncle's injunctions, and having settled it in my mind
that I must fight, I closed my thoughts against all
consequences, and felt that I was ready for the conflict.
I was indeed almost anxious to have it corae, as the
suspense was painful. I afterward found, on conver
sing with several members of the company, that very
similar trains of thought had occurred to them. John
son, our captain, was a man of nerve and ready speech.
When the roll was finished, he said in a clear, hearty
tone, " All right, my good fellows ! Every raan at
his post !" These few words — which were, however,
more politic than true, for one fellow was taken with
sudden colic, and could not be got out — were electri
cal. We were ready to take our places in the redoubt.
Messengers were now sent to the two neighboring
posts to inquire into ' the state of facts. Word was
brought that the first alarm came from our barracks !
The matter was inquired into, and it turned out that
the whole affair was originated by our Corporal T  ,
who, in a fit of nightmare, jumped up and cried,
"Alarm ! alarm !"
Our martial ardor soon reconciled itself to this
rather ludicrous denouement, though several persons,

436 LE'lTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
who had been somewhat chapfallen, became suddenly
inflated with courage, which signalized itself with out
bursts of—" D  the British !" " They're a pack of
sneaking cowards, after all !" and the like. The next
morning was fresh and fair. The skirmishing thun
der-gusts of the night had cleared the air, and even
distant objects seeraed near at hand. Before us lay
the whole British fleet, still and harmless, in the
glassy bay. My left-hand chum, J. S . . . . , who, in
the dark hour, would have given fifty dollars to be
at West Division, was now himself again. " Come
on here, you black old Eamiles !" said he— dashing
the doubled fist of his right hand into the palm of
his left : " corae on here, you black-hearted British
bull-dogs, and we'll do your business for you !" &c.
Notwithstanding our rallitary duties, you will read
ily comprehend that we had a good deal of leisure.
For the most part, this idle tirae was wasted, or worse
than wasted. The atmosphere of a carap presents a
fearful ordeal for all, but more especially for the
young soldier. The restraints of society being with
drawn, the seducing and corrupting influences which
naturally spring up and riot in such a soil, too often
lead captive the strong as well as the weak. The
military spirit is opposed to reflection : it is reckless,
banishes thought, and teaches a kind of self-aban
donment. Our officers set an excellent example, and
there was less of degradation in our company than in
others. Still, araong us, there was a general reading

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 437
of bad books, a great deal of petty gambling, and not
a little tippling. It was easy to see, week by week,
the gradual wearing away of the sense of propriety,
of gentlemanly tastes, and general conservatism, in
at least one-half the young men of our company. A
similar declension was visible throughout the whole
body of militia along the line. My own conviction
was and is, that military life is exceedingly degra
ding, and especially to militia, who are suddenly
called away from the usual safeguards of virtue, and
exposed to new and unexpected seductions.
Fortunately our period of service was brief In
about six weeks from the time of our departure, we
were dismissed, and returned to our homes. Thus
closed my military career, so far as relates to active
service. The remembrances of my first and last cam
paign are, on the whole, pleasant. There were feel
ings of fraternity established between the members
of the company which have continued to this day,
save only in regard to those which the grave has
sundered. My country has not been unmindful of
my services ; for I have received two land- warrants —
giving me a title to some hundred and sixty acres —
with the fresh virgin soil of the Far West upon them.
Say not that republics are ungrateful !
A few words more, and this chapter is done. You
have doubtless heard about the " Connecticut Blue
Lights," and of course conceive the term to imply
some ignominious stain upon the reputation of this,
Vol. I.— 21

438 LETTEES — ^BIOGEAPmCAL,
the "land of steady habits." You will expect me,
therefore, to tell you the story of its origin.
The preceding pages have shown you that Deca
tur, comraanding the American frigate United States,
after a brief and glorious career upon the ocean, sub
sequent to the declaration of war, had been driven
into the Thames with his prize, the Macedonian, and
the sloop-of-war Hornet. Here they were all cooped
up, like strong men bound hand and foot. You
can readily imagine the effect of such a situation
upon a person like Decatur. He was — as all the
world knows — of an ardent and impetuous tempera
ment — irapulsive, impatient, irascible. No man was
ever less qualified to endure the protracted and in
glorious idleness of his present position. He was
high-hearted, patriotic, proud of the navy : he was
ambitious, and panted for glory. His bleeding coun
try needed his services : his fellow-officers of the
navy were lighting the face of the ocean in both hem
ispheres with their brilliant exploits. He was im
prisoned, and with him three noble ships. How then
must he have panted to be free !
I have told you that I saw him on several occasions.
He was rather below the middle size, but ofa remark
ably compact and symmetrical form. He was broad-
shouldered, full-chested, thin in the flank : his eye
was black, piercing, and lit with a spark of fire. His
nose was thin, and slightly hooked : his lips were
firm, his chin small, but smartly developed. His

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 439
whole face was long and bony ; his complexion
swarthy ; his hair jet black, and twisted in ropy curls
down his forehead and over his ears. Altogether he
was a remarkable looking man, and riveted the at
tention of. every one who saw hira. By the side of
the quiet, thoughtful Jones, and the dark, handsome,
complacent Biddle — his fellow-prisoners — he seemed
like a caged eagle, ready to rend in atoms the bars
which restrained him.
Decatur did not conceal his impatience : his ill-
humor rendered him unjust. He was not chary in
his speech, and in fact he made himself many ene
mies by the freedom and vehemence with which he
expressed his political opinions. Certainly he and
the citizens of New London were heartily tired of
each other. The latter were indeed most anxious to
get rid of him and his squadron, inasmuch as their
presence in the Thames brought upon the inhabitants
all .the dangers, anxieties, and miseries of war.
That Decatur should desire to escape, and that he
should have the co-operation of all the people of New
London, heart and hand, would seem to be matters
of course. At last he resolved to make the attempt.
In October he began, gently and quietly, to drop
down the river, and by the last of November was in
the harbor of New London. On the night of the
12th of December all things were prepared, and the
vessels were about to depart, in the hope of eluding
the blockading squadron in the darkness.

440 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
Now note the ominous fact : at different times,
from eight to ten o'clock in the evening, blue lights
were thrown up, apparently from the land, along tlie
shore, and on both sides of the river. Decatur as
sumed, at once, that these were signals, sent up by
traitorous Americans, announcing to the enemy hi.i
intended departure. So positive was the conclusion,
that he totally suspended his operations, and from
that time made no further efforts to escape. He wrote
a letter, giving an account of the affair, and did not
scruple to charge the assumed treason upon the peo
ple of New London ! That letter — unjust, untrue,
and absurd as it was — passed into the history of the
time, and party rancor, seizing upon the slander, has
continued to use it to the present day. Bl'ue Lights,
meaning treason on the part of Connecticut federal
ism during the war, is a standard word in the flash
dictionary of low democracy.
Now, let me make one or two suggestions. Be it
remembered, that, from the beginning, Decatur was
mainly indebted to the federalists of Connecticut for
protection : the general goveriiment had no force suf
ficient to keep the enemy at bay, when he sought
shelter in the Thames. His presence there brought
expense, anxiety, gloom, upon the State. It involved
the people of New London in every species of vexa
tion, disquietude, and danger. How absurd, then —
how contrary to all logic — to accuse them, or any oi
them, of attempting to prevent his departure, which,

jHISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, El'C. 441
above all things, was what they desired ! Nothing
but the obliquity of a mind diseased by disappoint
ment, can excuse such a charge, made in the face of
such plain and palpable contradiction.
But what were these blue lights ? Now you must
understand that I had left New London in July, and
these events occurred in December. Yet while I
was there, blue lights, and indeed lights of various
other colors, were often seen, apparently along the
shore; and it was generally understood that these
were signals thrown up from the British ships, or per
haps from parties of the enemy cruising in boats among
the islands, or going ashore on the main land. It was
impossible, in most cases, to determine whether those
came from the land or the water :* at all events,
* This fact has recently been recalled to my mind by the venerable
Dr. S. H. P. Lee, now in full practice at New York, at the age of eighty-
four I His house in New London commanded a view ofthe harbor and
the shipping. He frequently saw blue lights all along the shore, and
confirms the fact that it could not be determined, in most cases, wheth
er they came from the sea or the land. They were always attributed to
the British. He conceives that the charge of treason, on the part of De
catur, was entirely untrue and in fact absurd.
Dr. Lee informs me, that from their position, the British had no diffi
culty in knowing every thing that was going on along the shore. There
was no rigid police : the British sailors often went .ashore among the fish
ermen, as well on the islands as the main land : the ofBoers not unfre
quently went in disguise to New York, and even into the interior. . After
the peace, a ball was given to Admiral Hotham— then commander of the
station — and his officers, at New London. Dr. Lee and his two sons there
recognized, among the British officers, two persons, who, during the w.ar,
were passing along the street, and at his invitation stepped up into his
piazza and took a look at the squadron ! Of course every movement of
Decatur's was known to the enemy, and as he lay in New London har
bor, he was under the eye of their telescopes. They no doubt penetra
ted his designs, and seeing hira about to make au effort to escape, sent

443 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL, ,
they were very coraraon. They were always attrib
uted to the British, and excited no particular interest.
They were regarded only as telegraphs of the enemy,
which, in general, they and they only could read.
Now, there is not one particle of evidence that
these blue lights, seen by Decatur, were in any re
spect different from the -others, familiar to everybody
living in New London. They were never traced,
even by suspicion, to any individual. There is no
proof that they came from the land ; and even if they
did, they might still have come from British par
ties ashore. Or, if they were the work of traitors —
Americans — these were isolated individuals, and their
conduct would have been held in abhorrence by the
whole people. To charge it, then,, upon the inhabit
ants of New London — to attempt thus to stain the
character of a city, and indirectly a whole State — was
one of those acts which should have excited the in
dignation of every honorable mind.
I need only add, that I have never met an indi
vidual, living in New London at the time, who did
not consider this imputation as absurd in itself and

up their blue-light telegraphs to direct the various ships to be upon the
alert. While such an interpretation is probable, to say the least, it ia
oad logic to impute treason, and at the same time the most absurd acts of
contradiction to their own interests, to the people of New London.
I give this testimony of Dr. Lee with the more readiness, as he is
historically known for his courageous and beneficent professional con
duct, in braving, alone, the horrors of the yellow fever at New London
in 1799 — when every other physician, not prostrated by the disease, had
fled from it in terror. Surelv suoh evidence should be conclusive.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 443
as Having no foundation, except in the warped and
excited imagination of Decatur. I believe every
member of the Hartford company — and they had
good opportunity to judge of the matter — regarded
it in this light. It was a wrong act on his part, and
those who desire to cherish his fame — which after
all is one of the glories of our coun try ^ — should ad
mit that it was an error, and do what they may to re
pair it. Those who seek to make the scandal live,
only perpetuate the memory of the injustice which
originated it.*
* Stephen Decatur was born on the eastern shore of Maryland, Jan.
5, 1779. In 1798, he entered the navy as midshipman ; twice he pro
ceeded to the Mediterranean, and in Februijry, 1804, he recaptured and
burnt the American frigate Philadelphia, in the harbor of Tripoli, then
in the hands of the enemy. This exploit has always been regarded as
one of the most successful acts of skill and daring on record. In an
attack on Tripoli, the following August, he captured two ofthe enemy's
vessels, performing feats of personal courage and strength, the story of
which reminds us of the fabled achievements of knight-errantry. His
praise was on the tongue of all his countrymen. He superseded Com
modore Barron, in the command of the Chesapeake, after the shameful
attack of the Leopard upon that vessel ; he then became commander of
the frigate United States, and in October, 1812, captured the Macedonian,
as elsewhere stated. His squadron remained at New London till the
close of tbe war, but he was appointed to the command of the Presi
dent. On attempting to get to sea, in January, 1815, he was captured
by two British vessels, and carried into Bermuda. In February, the
war being over, he returned to the United States. Being dispatched
with a squadron to the Mediterranean, he soon chastised the Algerines,
and compelled them (June, 1815) to sign a treaty, abandoning their pi
racies, and liberating those of our countrymen whom they held in cap
tivity. He was made one of the Navy Commissioners in November, and
took up his residence at Washington. In 181 9, he had a long correspond -
ence with Commodore Barron, which issued in a challenge by the latter.
The meeting took place at Bladensburgh, March 22, 1820. At the first
fire Decatur was wounded, and being carried to his house, died that
nii'ht in the presence of his distracted wife. Deep emotions of admira-

444 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,

LETTER XXX.
Continuation ofthe War — Tlte Creeks subdued — Battles of Chippewa a'nd
Bridgewater — Captv/re of Washington — Bladensburg Races — HumiU-
ation of the President — Defense of Baltimore — The Slar-spangled Ban,-
ner — Ravages of the Coast by the British Fleet — Downfall of Napoleon
— Scarcity of Money — Rag Money — Bankruptcy of the National Treas
ury — The Spede Bank-note, mMr. Sharp and Mr. Sharper — Scarcity and
exorbitant Prices of British Goods — Depression of all Kinds of Business
—My Pocket-book Factory — Naval and Land Battle at Plattsburg —
Universal Gloom — State of New England — Anxiety of the Administra
tion — Thei/r Instructions to the Peace Commissioners — Battle of New Or
ieans — Peace — Illuminations and Rejoicings.
Mt deak 0 ***** *
I must lay aside, for the present, my own per
sonal liistory, that I may complete this hasty sketch
of the war. I now approach the last year — that of
1814 — which happily closed the inglorious struggle.
Merely noticing important events, I remark that
the Creek war, conducted on our part by General
Jackson, and ending in a coraplete humiliation ofthe
savages, early in this year — however it abounded in
striking incidents — made little immediate impression
upon us at the North, partly because the theater ol
operations was reraote, and partly because it was over-
tion for his character, and horror at the folly of the last act of his life,
pervaded the whole-oommunity.
Commodore Jacob Jones was born in Delaware, 1770. After a bril
liant professional career, he died at Philadelphia, August, 1850.
Commodore James Biddle was born at Philadelphia, 1788. He dis
tinguished himself as a commander, aud also in some diplomatic services
in Turkey and China. He died in 1848.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 445
shadowed by the more important struggle with Great
Britain. The battles of Chippewa and Bridgewater,
in July, displaying gallant deeds on the part of our
troops — officers as well as men — everywhere excited
lively demonstrations of sympathy. I think the suc
cess of our arms was always cheered, even by the fed
eralists — the feeling of national pride, and the real hos
tility to Great Britain, triumphing over party feeling.
When the news came that — August 24th — the city
of Washington had been invaded, captured, desola
ted — the President and his cabinet having actually
fled like a flock of sheep — there was a deep, burning
sense of indignation and shame : indignation, at the
want of forethought, courage, and conduct on the
part of the national executive ; and shame, at the
humiliating spectacle we presented to the world — we
who had begun the war in boasting, now seeing our
officials disgraced by pusillanimity, and our capital
desecrated by the presence and occupation of an en
emy ! I shall let this humiliating page in our his
tory pass, with the simple remark, that the feeble and
cowardly President seems on that occasion to have
drunk deep of the bitter cup of humiliation, in rec
ompense for having bartered the peace of the coun
try for the poor bauble of a second term of office.
The future has, doubtless, some instructive light to
shed upon this passage of our national history. *
* Whoever wishes to see a detail of the facts in this case will find
them iu Hildreth's United States, second series, page 507. There was
21*

446 LETTEES— BIOGEAPHICAL,
A few weeks after the capture of Washington,
the British troops, led by General Ross, landed at
North Point, fourteen miles frora Baltiraore, and im
mediately commenced their raarch toward the city.
They were met by the American militia, and in a
skirmish, the British general was killed. The enemy
advanced the next morning as far as the defenses of
that place, hastily thrown up by the Americans ; here
they made several threateniDg demonstrations, but
such was the firm and formidable front of the Amer
icans, that the next morning they silently withdrew,
and speedily embarked on board their shipping.
While the British were marching on Baltimore, the
fleet advanced up the Patapsco, and borabarded Fort
McHenry nearly a whole day and night. The gal
lant and effectual defense of that fortress, gave rise
to the beautiful national song of the " Star-spangled
Banner."*

a feeble atterapt at defense, at Bladensburg, five miles from Washing
ton ; but the United States troops as well as our militia fled upon the
first fire ofthe enemy. The President and his secretaries dispersed in
like manner. This scampering was satirized under the name of the
''Bladensburg Eaces." Madison and his wife found refuge in a Mary
land farm-house, where they spent two days and three nights of morti
fication, alarm, and insult from the irritated inhabitants. After a short
time the enemy departed : another party of them, however, had made
their way to Alexandria, where they compelled the inhabitants to saori-
floe all their merchandise and all their shipping to save the city. Mad
ison returned to Washington, and in order to hide his disgrace, laid all
the blame to Armstrong, the Secretary of War. The latter retaliated,
asserting that the President yielded to the " humor of « village mob,
stimulated by faction and led by folly."
* The author of this admired national lyric was Francis Scott Key,
of Maryland, born August 1, 1779. He became a lawyer, and waa Dis-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDO'nCAL, ETC. 447
As summer advanced, the clouds seemed to thick
en over our country on every side. The coasts of
New York and New England were kept in a con
stant state of anxiety and alarm, by British squadrons
sweeping our shipping from the sea, and occasionally
making descents upon the land. The treasury of the
United States was exhausted,* and the government
trict Attorney of the city of Washington, where he died, January, 1848.
He wrote several songs, though not for publication, as he seems not to
have duly appreciated thera. To feel the full force of the Star-spangled '
Barmer, it is necessary to know its origin. A gentleman of Baltimore
had' gone to the British fleet with a flag of truce, in order to get a friend
of his released, who had been captured at Marlborough. He was not
permitted to return, as he might give information of the -intended at
tack upon Baltimore. While thus on board a British vessel, he wit
nessed the attack upon Fort McHenry during the whole day. When
night set in, the flag, which still floated, was hidden frora his view.
The borabardment was kept up, and his heart was agitated with the
most anxious fears. As the morning rose, he had the unbounded sat
isfaction of seeing the banner of his country still flying aloft, in evi
dence of successful defense. The whole story is adrairably told in the
song. "* The state ofthe treasury, as presented to Congress by Campbell, the
Secretary, in Sept. 1814, was deplorable. Tbe last attempt to borrow six
millions had only produced offers for half that amount, and these at the
rate of eighty per cent. The credit of the government was indeed al
most gone : specie had disappeared ; the banks had generally suspend
ed specie payments ; the currency consisted of bank notes, at a large
depreciation. The treasury was in fact empty, and large debts and ex
penses were accumulating and soon to be met. Every kind of scheme
was suggested for supplying the exhausted and discredited treasury-
new loans, increased taxes, various kinds of government stocks, and
finally a national bank. Dallas, Secretary of the Treasury, proposed a
non-specie paying bank, and Calhonn a specie-paying bank. Neither ot
these two plans succeeded. The Bank of the United States, which had so
remarkable a career, and was finally extinguished by Gen. Jackson, was
chartered April 10th, 1816, the plan having been framed by Secretary
Dallas. - It was in fact rather a democratic institution ; the federalists at
that time seeming to foresee the evils which followed, strove earnestly
to reduce the capital of thirty-five millions to twenty millions, but with
out avail.

448 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
seemed on the point of bankruptcy. And raore than
all — Napoleon had fallen, and on the 4th of April
had departed for his exile at Elba ; the allies had tri-
uraphed — Great Britain, the mistress of the sea, the
leading power of the world, was now free to turn
her whole power against us in America. She was
exasperated by the feeling that we had declared war
against her, with the design of aiding her great ene
my at the very time she was struggling for self-pres
ervation against nearly all Europe, which he had
combined against her. Already the vetei'ans who
had triumphed under Wellington, ¦were collecting iu
Canada, and the ships, long occupied in the Euro
pean war, were crowding hither, like vultures, eager
for their prey. Dismay spread along the whole mari
time frontier, where the inhabitants, no longer placing
any reliance upon the general government, which
seemed totally paralyzed, were all up in arms, mus
tering and drilling with one hundred and twenty
thousand militia in the field. Portland, Boston, Prov
idence, New Haven, New York, Baltimore, Rich
mond, Norfolk, Charleston, Savannah, were busy in
throwing up fortifications.*
I remember perfectly well, the universal state of
anxiety and depression which prevailed in New Eng
land at this time. The acts of government, the move
ments of fleets and armies, furnish no idea of the con-
* Hildreth, second series, vol. iii. p. 624.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 449
dition of society in its daily life. Let me give you a
few items as indications of the embarrassments, vex
ations, and privations which the war had brought
unto every man's house and home. Such a thing as
silver or gold money was almost unknown. The chief
circulation consisted of bills of suspended banks, or
what were called "facilities;" that is, bank-notes, au
thorized by the legislature of Connecticut, redeemable
in three years after the war. These were at fifteen to
twenty-five per cent, discount compared with specie.
Banks issued notes of fifty, twen ty-five, and twelve-and-
a-half cents. Barbers put out bills, payable in sha
ving, and various institutions adopted a similar course.
This whole mass acquired the title of " rag money,"
" shin-plasters," &c. : a large portion of it was noto
riously worthless, either as being counterfeit, or issued
by irresponsible parties, yet it generally passed with
out scrutiny. I recollect a person at a turnpike-gate
offered a five-dollar bank-note, and received in change
a large, greasy wad of bills, of various names, hues,
and designs. He glanced at it, and said to the keep
er — " Why, half of this is counterfeit !"
" I know it," was the reply ; " but it passes just as
well as any other."
A specie bank-bill* was almost an object of worship.
An anecdote will illustrate this. In our city of H 

* The New England banks continued to pay specie, but their notes were
rare. The bills of suspended banks of the Middle States and " facili
ties," constituted thei chief money in circulation.

450 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
there were a shrewd man and a greedy man, who had
some dealings with each other about these days, when
the following scene occurred :
Shrewd Man. Do you recollect giving me a ten-
dollar bill in change yesterday, Mr. C . . . . ?
Greedy Man. No, I don't : why do you ask ?
S. M. Well, I found a specie bill of ten dollars in
my purse, and I thought, perhaps, I might have re
ceived it of you. You remember I was only entitled
to a facility, and not to a specie bill ?
0. M. Well, I dare say you had it of me : let me
see it.
S. M. There it is !
G. M. Oh yes ; I recollect it perfectly. I'll take
it, and give you a facility. There !
S. M. Are you sure, Mr. C . . . ., that you gave me
that specie bill ?
G. M. Certainly, certainly : I recollect it distinctly.
S. M. Well, I'm glad you are sure, for they tell tm
ihe specie bill is counterfeit 1
At this period, all kinds of British merchandise had
become very scarce, and many had entirely vanished
from the market. There was a small supply of certain
articles, from time to time, furnished by the vessels
captured by our ships and privateers, and some con
venient and necess.ary goods were smuggled in from
Canada. There was, in fact, a large amount of
money — and this was all specie — sent to the British
Provinces for pins, needles, jewelry, laces, muslins,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 451
cambrics, chintzfes, silks, sewing-silk, buttons, &c.,
&c. These merchandises were so costly that a man
would frequently carry the value of a thousand dol
lars in a pair of saddlebags, sometimes on his shoul
ders, and sometimes on horseback. The life of the
'smuggler along the line, at this period, was one of
langer and adventure. In sorae instances, persons
laid the foundations of future fortune in this illicit
traffic. I recollect very well the prices at which
we sold some of these articles : calico, now worth
twelve and a half cents, readily brought seventy-five
cents the yard ; cotton-cambric, now twenty cents,
then a dollar ; linen handkerchiefs, now fifty cents,
then two dollars ; fine broadcloth, now five dollars,
then twelve, or even fifteen dollars. The average
prices of British goods, at retail, were about four times
what they are now.
In point of fact, however, our dry-goods trade was
almost destroyed. Domestic products were enor
mously dear — flour at one time eighteen dollars a bar
rel — at Boston ! I had personal experience of the
universal depression. In the summer of 1814, I was
out of my time, and cast about for some employraent.
I went to New York for this object, but found not the
slightest encouragement. After some reflection, I
established a manufactory of pocket-books, in connec
tion with one of my friends, J. S. S  , who furnished
the capital. The greatest difficulty was to find the
materials. I made expeditions to Boston, Charles-

453 LETTEES — BIOGEAPEICAL,
ton. Providence, &c., and was not able to obtain over
fifty pieces of morocco fit for the purpose. In De
cember I went to New York, and was more success
ful. I had raade a considerable purchase, and dis
patched ray goods by the wagoner, for you will re
member that Long Island Sound was in the occupa
tion of the enemy.* Pretty well content with my
success, I had gone in the evening to a concert at the
City Hotel. While listening to the music, there was
a murmur in the streets. Soon the door of the
concert-room was thrown open, and in rushed a man
all breathless with excitement. He mounted on a
table, and swinging a white handkerchief aloft, cried
out —
"Peace! Peace! Peace!"
The music ceased : the hall was speedily vacated.
I rushed into the street, and oh, what a scene 1 But,
I beg your pardon, I have not yet done with the war !
Amidst general gloom and despondency, a broad
ray of light came suddenly from the north — the gea
eral scene of disaster and disgrace. In the spring of
this year, General Wilkinson was superseded by Gen
eral Izard, but while the latter, with the flower ot
the American army, was drawn off toward Sackett's
Harbor, the British general. Provost, advanced across
the country toward Plattsburg, situated on the west
ern side of Lake Champlain. Hitherto the enemy's
¦* Freight from New York to Hartford, now fifty cents a hundred,
was then four dollars a hundred.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 453
force in this, quarter had been sraall, but now, replen
ished by the veterans who had fought in the Penin
sula under Wellington, and who had seemed invin
cible, he mustered twelve thousand men. Macomb,
the American commander, left with only three thou
sand regular troops, was soon reinforced by three
thousand militia from Vermont and New York. He
was strongly intrenched behind the Saranac — which
flows through Plattsburg to the lake — and here the
enemy assailed him. The British fleet, under Com
modore Downie, came gallantly on to their assistance :
Macdonough,* commander of the American squad
ron, now closed with them, and then came such a fight
as is seldom seen. It was a deadly action of raore
than two hours — ship to ship, broadside to broad
side. At last the enemy was silenced — victory was
on our side. Nearly the whole British fleet was cap
tured. This was decisive of the conflict in this quar
ter. Simultaneously with the naval attack, the land
forces of the enemy had advanced against the Amer
icans under Macomb. But the defeat of the naval

* Thomas Macdonough was a native of Delaware, and was born in 1784.
When the battle of Lake Champlain was fought, he was but twenty-
eight years of age. In commemoration of his victory, the citizens of
Hartford presented him with a splendid sword. I recollect the occasion,
and the appearance of the gallant ofiiocr. He was nearly six feet high,
very broad-shouldered, with a small head, but finely set, so as to give
a look of mingled dignity and elegance to his form. His hair was
light, almost flaxen, his eye gray, and his countenance mild, but with
an expression of flrmness. In his personal character, he was marked
with gentleness and dignity. His private life was most blameless. Ha
died in 1825.

454 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
force disheartened them, a panic ensued, and under
cover of a storra, they hastily retreated, leaving be
hind thera their sick and wounded, and a part of
their baggage and stores. Their whole loss was esti
mated at no less than two thousand five hundred
men! This double victory — Sept. 11, 1814 — was in
deed some compensation for the disgrace inflicted
upon us a few weeks before at Washington.
The clouds of despondency, however, still lowered
over our country, in its length and breadth. It is now
known that the Administration was deeply alarmed
at the perilous condition into which it had brought
the country. The humbled and dismayed President,
in his message to Congress in September,* evidently
thinking no raore of conquest, was solely occupied
with the means of self-preservation. But however
painful the condition of other parts of the United
States, New England, beyond all question, was ex
posed to peculiar and trying difficulties. Her prep
aration for the war had been a series of destructive
acts on the part of the government, which had spread
general poverty throughout her entire territories.
Commerce, which was then her life, had nearly per
ished under embargoes and non-intercourse acts, to
* "It is not to be disguised," said he, "that the situation of our
country calls for its greatest efforts. Our enemy is powerful in men
and money, on the land and on the water. Availing himself of fortu
itous advantages (the triumph over Napoleon), ho is aiming, with hia
undivided force, a deadly blow at our growing prosperity, perhaps at
our national existence." This is from a President who had declared
war, a short time before, with tho expectation of oo'nquering Canada I

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 455
which had now been added three years of war.* And
in this condition she had been left by the general
government without defense, having a- coast of seven
hundred miles exposed to the enemy. That ene
my, in the full triumph of his arms over Napoleon,
was gathering his forces along the northern frontier,
and spreading his navies over our waters, and in
the very sight of our seaports. Already portions of
our territory were in his possession, and our towns
and villages were not only exposed, but some of them
had been actually subjected, to ravage and plunder.
There was evidently no hope but in the people
themselves. The general government had abandoned
them : it is historical, and beyond dispute, that while
the policy of the Administration allowed and encour-
* It is startling to look back at the financial records of the country at
this time : the destructive effects of the embargo are abundantly at
tested by documentary evidence. The exports of the United States iu
1807 — that is, before the embargo— were $108,343,558; in 1808, under
the embargo, they were $8,417,000 — a diminution ofa hundred millions
in a single year I The whole loss to the United States in the destruc
tion of commerce, alone — during the seven years of embargo, non-
intercourse, non-importation, and war— all forming one system, under
Jefferson and Madison democracy, would show a fearful sum — amount
ing to hundreds of millions. To this is to be added the war expenses,
the depreciation of property, the wide-spread devastation of productive
enterprise, &o., &o. Let it be understood that New England, frora
her position, took more than her relative share of this burden ; let it
also be understood that she believed all these measures to have had
a sinister origin ; let it, furthermore, be held in view, that events, thus
far, had fulfilled her predictions as to the destructive tendency of this
whole policy ; and then we may be prepared to ask whether she had
not a right to call together her Wise Men, as had been her custom from
the foundation of the first settlements, to take into consideration the
state of public affairs, and recommend the means of averting the evils
which impended over her ?

456 -LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
aged the democratic governors of several States to
call out the local militia for defense, permitting them
to have their -own officers and paying the expenses
thus incurred, a totally different system was adopted
in respect to the federal States of New England. Here
the general government insisted upon the exclusive
control of military movements, and flatly refused pay
ing the militia, because they were not placed under
the coramand of United States officers. What was
then to be done? This was the anxious question in
city, village, and hamlet, from one end of the country
to the other. The people — the great body of the peo
ple — were agitated with a deep sense of injury, of
suffering, of anxiety. In this state of things, a pro
ject was suggested, in the good old Puritan county
of Hampshire, in Massachusetts, which resulted in the
Hartford Convention. It had been the custom, from
time iraraeraorial — in days of doubt and danger — for
the inhabitants of the Pilgrira land to call together
their wise men, to seek, by counsel and co-operation,
the path of duty and deliverance. The history of
New England tells us that, on almost every page.
Had they not a right to do so now ? Was it not
natural for them to take this course — to follow the
example of their fathers? Is it fair, is it just, is it
reasonable, to seek any other motive than this, which
lies open and plain upon the face of things, with noth
ing to contradict it ?
T have a few. more words to say on that subject,

457
but I lay them aside for the present, that I may com
plete my chronological memoranda of the war. This
done, I will give you my recollections of that famous
or infamous assembly.
It was now evident to the whole country that we
had changed positions with the enemy. At the
outset, the war was aggressive on our part : we
had sought to invade and conquer a portion of his
territory : in this we had failed, and now released
from his embarrassments, he was threatening us on
all sides, thus calling upon us for defense. It ap
pears that the Administration now felt the absolute
necessity of bringing the war to a close. Great
Britain had made an offer to treat for peace, and our
government accepted it, appointing J. Q. Adams,
Henry Clay, Jonathan Russell, Albert Gallatin, and
J. A. Bayard, as Commissioners for that object. The
instructions at first given, required thein to insist upon
a withdrawal of the pretensions of Great Britain to the
right of search aud impressment — the only substantial
object ofthe war. After the news of the prostration
of Napoleon, other instructions were given, direct
ing that even this should not be insisted upon. The
agents of the two. governments met at Ghent, in Bel
gium, in August. As we had withdrawn every ma
terial obstruction, a treaty of peace was finally agreed
upon and signed, at Ghent, Dec. 24, 1814.
The news of this event did not reach the United
States until the Ilth of February, 1815— a space of

458 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
forty-nine days — for then steam navigation had not
brought the Old and New World within ten days'
sail. While the tidings of peace were thus lagging
across the Atlantic, the war still lowered over our
country. It was soon apparent that the enemy med
itated a blow at some portion of the Southern States.
At length, after various movements, and some severe
encounters with our forces under General Jackson,
the British general, Packenham, advanced against
the American intrenchments, four miles below New
Orleans, with a force of twelve thousand men. Their
design evidently was to capture New Orleans. Be
hind their breastworks of bales of cotton, six thou
sand Americans, mostly railitia, awaited the attack.
It came, but our well-aimed cannon and deadly
rifles mowed down the enemy like a scythe. The
plain was speedily covered with the dead and the
dying. General Packenham was killed, and his
successor, Gibbs, was mortally wounded. The Brit
ish troops- — most of them veterans, and conquerors
in many a bloody field — -were panic-stricken, and
fled. The loss on their side was seven hundred kill
ed and one thousand wounded : the loss on ours was
seven killed and six wounded ! The Saxon had met
the Saxon : the Araerican rifle had triumphed ovei
the British bayonet. It was on our part a glorious
victory ; but let it be remembered, that it was in
defense of our territories — our homes and firesides.
The moral of the war is well told in its opening and

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 459
closing scenes : in attempting conquest, our flag was
humbled at Detroit ; in self-defense, it became im-
mortal at New Orleans !
This great victory on the part of General Jackson
— which afterward carried him into the presidential
chair — took place on the Sth of January, 1815—
fifteen days after the signing of the treaty of peace.
The rumor of this triumph had reached Washington,
and began to raise the droo.ping spirits of the coun
try; but a still more cheering event was at hand.
As I have already stated, the news of the treaty of
peace arrived in New York on the Ilth of February,
1815. It was about eight o'clock on Saturday even
ing, that the tidings circulated through the city. I
have told you that I was there. In half an hour
after the news reached the wharf, Broadway was one
living sea of shouting, rejoicing people. "Peace!
peace ! peace !" was the deep, harmonious, universal
anthem. The whole spectacle was enlivened by a sud
den inspiration. Somebody came with a torch : the
bright idea passed into a thousand brains. In a few
minutes, thousands and tens of thousands of people
were marching about with candles, lamps, torches —
making the jubilant street appear like a gay and
gorgeous procession. The whole night Broadway
sang its song of peace. We were all democrats,
all federalists ! Old enemies rushed into each other's
arms : every house was in a revel : every heart seemed
melted by a joy which banished all evil thought

460 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
and feeling. Nobody asked, that happy night, what
were the terms of the treaty : we had got peace — that
was enough ! I moved about for hours iu the ebbing
and flowing tide of people, not being aware that I
had opened my lips. The next morning I found that
I was hoarse from having joined in the exulting cry
of peace, peace !
The next day, Sunday, all the churches sent up
hymns of thanksgiving for the joyous tidings. I set
out in the stage-coach on Monday morning for Con
necticut. All along the road, the people saluted us
with swinging of hats and cries of rejoicing. At
one place, in rather a lonesome part of the road, a
schoolmaster came out with the whole school at his
heels to ask us if the news was true. We told him
it was : whereupon he tied his bandanna pocket-
handkerchief to a broom, swung it aloft, and the
whole school hosannaed — " Peace ! peace !" At all
our stopping-places, the people were gathered to re
joice in the good tidings. At one little tavern, I look
ed into a roora, by chance, the door being open, and
there I saw the good wife, with a chubby boy in her
lap — both in a perfect gale of merriment — the child
crying out, " Peath ! peath !" Oh, ye makers of war,
reflect upon this heartfelt verdict of the people in
behalf of peace !
We arrived at New Haven in the evening, and found
it illuminated : the next day I reached Hartford, and
there was a grand illumination there. The news

• 461
spread over the country, carrying with it a wave of
shouts and rejoicings. Boston became clamorous
with pealing bells ; the schools had a jubilee ; the
blockaded shipping, rotting at the dilapidated wharves,
got out their dusty buntings, and these — ragged and
forlorn — now flapped merrily in the breeze. At night
the city flamed far and wide — from Beacon-.street
down the bay, telling the glorious tale even unto
Cape Cod. So spread the news over the country,
everywhere carrying joy to every heart — with, per
haps, a single exception. At Washington, the authors
of the war peeped into the dispatches, and found that
the treaty had no stipulations against Orders in
Council, Paper Blockades, or Impressments! All
that could be maintained was, that we had made
war, charging the enemy with very gross enormities,
and we had made peace, saying not one word about
them ! Madison and his party had in fact swal
lowed the declaration of war whole, and it naturally
caused some uneasy qualms in the regions of diges
tion. " Let us, however," said they, " put a good
face upon it : we can hide our shame for the mo
ment in the smoke of Jackson's victory ; as to the
rest, why we can brag the country into a belief that
it has been a glorious war !" Madison set the exam
ple in a boasting message, and his party organs took
up the tune, and have played it bravely till the pres
ent day.
But what saith history — not partisan history, not
Vol. I.— 22

462 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
history addressed to Buncombe, not history written
in subservient deraagogism to national vanity — but
history, speaking the truth and fearing not ? What
saith the record ?* Assuredly this, that the war had
its origin in partisan interests, and was carried on in
a similar spirit ; that it was the war of the Adminis
tration, and not of the nation, and so far was disastrous
and disgraceful. It was begun without preparation, it
was carried on in weakness ; it was characterized by
failure, it was terminated by a treaty which left us
where we began — save only that a hundred millions
of dollars and thirty thousand lives had been expend-

* I commend to the reader the following observations from a calm
and sober writer ;
" An inquiry here naturally suggests itself— as, after the revocation
of the British Orders in Council, Impressment was the only grievance
to be redressed by war ; and as that question was subsequently waived
by our government in the negotiation, what was gained by the war ? It
has been considered as no small point gained, that ample evidence has
been given to Great Britain of our capacity successfully to resist her
power, especially upon the ocean, where she had long claimed a vast
superiority ; and that a guarantee had thus been furnished against fu
ture aggression. It is questionable, however, if the result could have
been known, or if the unbiased- counsels of our older statesmen had pre
vailed, whetlier war would have been declared. Jefferson, Madison, Gal
latin, Macon, and others, were of a pacific disposition. Tlie leading rnen
of tlie administration were known to have given a reluctant sanction to
the war project; but they found tliemselves under a kind of necessity to
yield to the i?npulsive young politicians — Calhoun] Clay, and a n'umber
of others — who, it was suspecteil, were strivi'ng to turn the popular preju
dices against Great Britain to their own political advantage. Whether
the nation has ever obtained an equivalent forthe thirty thousand lives,
and the hundred millions of money expended; for the loss of prop
erty and of several years of prosperous commerce ; for the depravation of
the public mor.ils, and the train of other evils inseparable from a state
of war, is a question which at least admits of a reasonable doubt."—
Young's American Statesman.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 463
ed in the inglorious struggle. All the lights of this
period belong to the people or to the opposition — all
the shadows to the war-makers. Hull's surrender,
Dearborn's blunders, Wilkinson's abortions, were the
work of the Administration, attempting the conquest
of Canada : the desecration of Washington is wholly
chargeable to the personal weakness and pusillanim
ity of the President and his cabinet. The glory of
the navy belongs to the federalists, who were its fa
thers — the democrats being its open and avowed
enemies and opposers : the victories of Plattsburg,
Baltimore, and New Orleans, belong not to the spirit
of Madison, who would conquer Canada, but to that
spirit which is indigenous to the country, to the people
—democrats and federalists — everywhere — who will
fight and conquer in defense of our soil, even though
the war be brought upon us by a feeble and unpatri
otic government.
Let us be frank, and confess the truth : the war, in
the aspects in which history thus presents it, was dis
graceful to the authors of it : it was, in many respects,
disastrous to the country ; and yet it has left us some
wholesome lessons. It has shown the danger and
folly of plunging a great country into a national con
flict, for narrow and selfish purposes, because — under
such circumstances — the people will be divided, and
it will be a partisan and not a patriotic war ; it has
put on record another instance in which war has been
declared in boasting, aud ended precisely where it be-

464 LETTEES— BIOGEAPHICAL,
gan, after years of violence, sorrow, and bloodshed ;
it has shown our weakness in a war of conquest, and
our strength in a war of defense ; it has shown us
that the sea is the true theater upon which we should
ever be prepared to attack and repel every European
enemy. It has shown us that without preparation,
and with divided counsels, we are weak, but that with
union of heart and proper precautions, we need not
fear any combination the world can bring against
us. It has shown, also — in connection with subse
quent events — the superiority of peace to war, even
in obtaining the ends of justice, for let it be remem
bered, that Daniel Webster extorted from Great Brit
ain by the force of argument, that which the sword
could not achieve. His letter to Lord Ashburton*
silenced, and doubtless forever, the British preten
sions to the " right of search"' — thus demonstrating
the superiority of an old federal quill, to all the gun
powder that mere Madison democracy could com
mand ! ¦ The pen is master of the sword.
And now, my dear C . . . ., I ask you in all serious-

* This remarkable letter — dated Washington, August 8, 1842 — will
be found in Mr. Webster's Works, vol. vi. p. 318. Mr. Everett says,
in his memoir of Mr. Webster, "The reply of Lord Ashburton must
be considered as acquiescence on the part of his government ;" that ia,
acquiescence in the American doctrine of maritime rights — that the flag
of a country renders the decks of its ships inviolable against visit or
search. The London Times, Standard, &o., about this period, expressed
the opinion that this subject was finally put to rest by Mr. Webster's
letter. It is understood that Lord Aberdeen said to Mr. Everett, that
Its argument was unanswerable : it has been effectively answered, how
ever, by quietly yielding to its doctrines.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 465
ness — is it not time for that arrogance to cease — which
claims for democracy all the patriotism, all the suc
cess, all the glory ofthe war of 18.12, and charges upon
federalism a uniform course of secret or open treason,
with the responsibility of all the failures, disasters,
and disgraces which attended the conflict ?
Let me observe, by the way, that I do not condemn
the feelings of the great body of the democrats, in
their support ofthe war. Believing it to be just and
proper, their ardor, their patriotisra, their perseve
rance in the maintenance of the struggle, 'were hon
orable to them. I do full homage to their spirit, to
their patriotism. I can overlook that partisan bigotry
which burned in their bosoms at the time, and even
embittered the intercourse of society. It was natural
for them to feel indignant at the conduct of those who
— holding opposite opinions — pursued an opposite
course, in so serious a question as that of war with a
foreign enemy. Nor was their example, in this re
spect, very different from that of the federalists. Both
parties were wrought into a kind of frenzy by the
irritation of mutual opposition and mutual hostility.
While doing this justice to the democracy, I claim
the same candor for the federalists. They acted ac
cording to their convictions, as I have before said,
and this was not only their right but their duty. The
doctrine of the war partisans, holding legal, constitu
tional opposition to an administration which has de
clared war, to be treason, is alike dangerous and

466 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
despotic. A war may be declared merely to serve a
party: the administration may be base, incompetent,
treacherous ; yet, if this doctrine be true, the people
— having lost the greatest of all rights — the right to
think, speak, and act, according to their convictions
— are bound to give a blind and slavish support to
those who, either by incorapetence or corruption, are
leading the country to ruin.
Let me invite your attention to the principles of
New England- — the federalists of New England — as
stated by Daniel Webster, in a Fourth of July ora
tion, at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, a few days
after the declaration of war :
" With respect to the war in which we are now involved, the
course which our principles require us to pursue can not be
doubtful. It is now the law of the land, and as such we are
bound to regard it. Resistance and insurrection form no part
of our creed. The disciples of Washington are neither tyrants
in power, nor rebels out. If we are taxed to carry on this war,
we shiiU disregard certain distinguished examples,* and shall pay.
* This was an allusion to the Whisky Kebellion in Western Penn
sylvania, in 17'J4, which Albert Gallatin — one of Madison's cabinet,
and a prominent supporter of the war — had done much to stimulate.
The inhabitants of that quarter were chiefly foreigners. The law
which offended them was passed by Congress in 1791, and laid a tax
on distilled spirits — one of their chief products at that time. A con
siderable army was asserabled by the malcontents, aud the United
States revenue officers were resisted, whipped, tarred and feathered.
The insurrection was finaUy put down by a proclamation issued by the
President (Washington), and the marching toward the scene of action
of a respectable body of militia, under Gov. Lee, of Maryland,
This resistance, however, was in some degree pardonable, consider
ing the general ignorance and character of those concerned in It, and
considering, also, that the general government had just gone into op-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 467
If our personal services are required, we shall yield them to the
precise extent of our constitutional liability. At the same time
the world may be assured that we know our rights and shall
exercise them. We shall express our opinions on this as on
every measure of government, I trust without passion, I am cer
tain without fear. We have yet to hear that the extravagant
progress of pernicious measures abrogates the duty of opposition,
or that the interest of our native land is to be abandoned by us
in the hour of the thickest danger and most necessity! By the
exercise of our constitutional right of suffrage — by the peaceful
remedy of election — we shall seek to restore wisdom to our coun
cils, and peace to our country."*
That was the federal doctrine, and that the federal
practice. Now I put it to your conscience — is not
eration, and called for unaccustomed sacrifices on the part of the peo
ple. It was otherwise in the case of South Carolina, when, in the au
tumn of 1832, she made a general movement to resist the tariff laws of
Congress, on the ground-that they were unconstitution.^1. This course had
been recommended by a convention and various public meetings, and
the legisl.iture of the State, meeting soon after, sanctioned these views.
The tariff acts were declared null and void, and in order to resist their
execution, active measures were adopted to arm the citizens. The city
of Charleston became at once a great military depot, and the whole State
was bristling with bayonets. Col. Hayne, who, a short tirae before, in
the Senate ofthe United States, had arraigned the raerabers ofthe Hart
ford Convention as traitors, now became governor of the State, for the
express purpose of directing this formidable treason. Mr. Calhoun
resigned the vice-presidenoy, and accepted a seat in the Senate, for the
purpose of there vindicating the conduct of his State. This fearful
blow, aimed directly at the Constitution and the Union, was averted by
what is called the Compromise of Mr. Clay — which, in point of fact, con
sisted in forcing the general government to yield to a menace of rebel
lion. The movement was so far successful, that it cherished the seeds
of Nullification, which had been widely sown by Jefferson and his as
sociates in the Southern States ; and at the present day, its doctrines
may be considered as held by a majority of the democratic party there.
Compare all this with the conduct of New England federalism !
¦* See the New York Evening Post for July 21, 1812— where this ia
held to be sound federal doctrine.

468 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
this more manly, more American, more in the spirit
of true liberty, than the slavish doctrine which holds
every man to be a traitor who does not support the
administration — good or bad, wise or unwise — even
against his honest convictions?*
If, then, the people of New England had a right to
follow their convictions, what was their actual conduct?
Look closely into the history of the times — peruse the
acts of legislatures, the doings of authorized public
assemblies — and you will find a uniform, unswerving
loyalty to the Constitution, the country, and the laws.
The federalists of New England did not — ^like Albert
Gallatin and other democrats, afterward supporters of
the war, and believers in the doctrine that opposition
is treason — rise in rebellion, and seek to overthrow the
government. They did not — like Calhoun, another
democrat, and one of the chief authors of the war, as
well as one of the promoters of this gag-law of con
science- — ^array the States in arms, and cry out for a
dissolution of the Union ! They did not — as is now
the fashion, even with certain democrats in full com
munion with the party — claim that the Union shall be
* If we admit this doctrine, that opposition to an administration in
time of war is treason, then Chatham, who advocated the cause of
America in the British Parliament, during the Eevolution, was a trai
tor ; Lamartine, Cavaignao, and Victor Hugo, who opposed Louis Napo
leon's war for the suppression of the Eoman Eepublio, were traitors ;
all the friends of liberty, who, from time immemorial, have opposed
the wars of their respective governments for the perpetuation of tyran
ny, are to be inscribed in the list of traitors. Certainly democracy errs in
employing despotism and injustice, under the pretense of propagating
liberty. There is no surer way to make liberty itself feared and hated

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 469
torn asunder, whenever the administration of the gov
ernment does not altogether please thera. No : their
standard of duty was higher than that — resistance and
insurrection formed no part of their creed or their
conduct : they were taxed, and they paid ; their per
sonal services were required, and they rendered them
to the extent of their constitutional liability ; they
defended the country, and even the property of the
United States, when the general government was
powerless to protect them ; they stood by the Con
stitution, as a thing too sacred to be viokited, even
under the extremest oppression of what they deemed
an unwise and unpatriotic government !
Who, then, has a right to accuse them of treason ?
Not the Nullifier, nor the Disunionist, nor the Seces
sionist — all clamorous for the destruction of the
Union, whenever, in their opinion, the government
is not properly administered ; surely no member of a
party, which holds in its bosom, and cherishes as in
full fellowship, individuals who are chiefly distin
guished for bearing these naraes, and for asserting
and propagating these doctrines ! Strange is it —
passing strange — that from the beginning — in peace
or war — New England Federalism should have fur
nished a steady example of loyalty to the Constitu
tion, and that — springing from her bosom, and ex
pressive of her spirit — she should have given to this
country the acknowledged Champion of the Consti
tution and the Union ; that at the same time, South-
22*

470 LBTTBKB — BIOGRAPHICAL,
ern Democracy should have been the breeder of se
cession and disunion ; that it should have furnished
to the country the Arch Nullifier himself; and yet
that this same Democracy presumes to point its finger
at New England, and cry — " Treason, treason to the
Union!" Certainly a democrat may steal a horse,
but a federalist may not look over a hedge !
Let us, my dear C . . . ., be just — just in- l^e sight
of God and man ; let us render homage to the patri
otism of the great body of the people of the United
States — democrats and federalists — during the war of
1812-14. We may sincerely adraire that cheerful,
gallant, devoted spirit, which sustained the struggle
without inquiring as to its justice or its prudence ;
at the same time, we are bound equally to respect
that calmness and equanimity with which a people,
deeply conscious of injury and injustice, observed
the laws, and, within their limits, defied alike the
aggressions of a partisan government and a foreign
enemy. Doing this justice to the people, on both
sides and of both parties, let history hold to a stern
reckoning the selfishness of those men who declared
or promoted the war, merely or mainly to subserve
the interests of party !

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 471

LETTER XXXI.
The Hartford Convention— Its Origin— Testimony of Noah WebsUr—Oath
of Roger M. Sherman— Gathering ofthe Convention— Doings of Democ
racy thereupon— Physiogrmmy of the Convention— SkeUhes of some of the
Members— Colonel Jessup— Democracy in the Streets— Ry/ort of the Con
vention— Recept'ion of the Doings of the Convention by Madison and
his Party— Its Effect and Example— Comparison ofthe Hartford Con/-
¦vention with the Nullifiers—The Union forever.
Mt deae C ***** *
I come now to the " Hartford Convention." Me
thinks I hear you remark, with an aspect of dismay —
are you not venturing into deep water in treating of
such a subject, generally regarded as an historical
abyss, in which much may be lost and nothing can
be gained ?
Well, my friend, suppose you do ask this — is it
really a good reason why I should not tell what I have
seen, what I know, what I believe, in relation to it ?
The Hartford Convention was in my time : my uncle,
Chauncey Goodrich, was one of its prominent mem
bers. I was then living with him;* I saw all the
* I have stated elsewhere that he had promised to make me one of
his aids. Accordingly, H. L. Ellsworth — afterward Indian Agent and
Commissioner of Patents — and myself were appointed, with the rank ol
1*

473 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
persons constituting that famous body, at his house ;
the image and superscription of the most distinguish
ed individuals are fresh in my recollection. I remem
ber the hue and -aspect of the political atmosphere,
then and there. Why should I not tell these things ?
You raay, perhaps, entertain the common notion that
the Hartford Convention was a congregation of con
spirator!? — traitors — and I shall invite you to abandon
this delusion. It may not be pleasant to hear your
cherished opinions controverted : it is always a little
disagreeable to receive truth, which requires us to sac
rifice soraething of our self-esteem, by giving up errors
which have become part of onr mental constitution.
But certainly you will not silence me on any such nar
row ground as this. The time has come when one
may speak freely on this subject, and surely without
oifense. Forty years have passed since the gathering
of that fai;-faraed body. Every raember of it is dead.
I will not insist that you shall say nothing of them
which is not good ; but I claim the privilege of say
ing of thera what I know to be true. I am sure you
will listen to me patiently; if not approvingly.
m.ijor, April 17, 1815. I was not very ambitious of my title, for not
long after '¦'¦Major Goodridge," of Bangor, Maine, acquired an infaraous
notoriety, in consequence of a trial (December, 1816) iu which Daniel
Webster made a celebrated plea, unmasking one of the most extraordi
nary cases of duplicity and hypocrisy ou record. This Major Goodridge
pretended to have been robbed, and the crime was charged upon two
persons by the name of Kenniston. In the defense of these, Mr. Web
ster proved that the charge was tiilse, and that the accuser had himself
fabricated the whole story of the robbery. (See Web.ster'n Works, vol
V. page 441.)

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 473
You may perhaps suppose that there is but one
.opinion in the country as to the character of that as
sembly ; but let me observe that there are two opin
ions upon the subject, and if one is unfavorable, the
other is diametrically opposite. In New England,
the memories of those who constituted the Conven
tion are held in reverence and esteem, by the great
body of their -fellow-citizens, including a large ma
jority of those whose opinions are of weight and
value, and this has been so from the beginning.
I have said that they are now all gathered to their
fathers. As they have gone down, one by one, to
their last resting-place, public opinion has pronounced
sentence upon their lives and characters. I ask your
attention to the historical fact, that in every instance,
this has been a eulogy — not for talent only, but the
higher virtues of humanity. Of the twenty-six mem
bers who constituted the Convention, every one has
passed to an honored grave. The members of the Hart
ford Convention were, in effect, chosen by the people,
at a time of great trouble and alarm, for the purpose
of devising the ways and means to avert threatening —
impending evils. All felt the necessity of selecting
persons of the highest wisdom, prudence, and virtue,
and never was a choice more happily made. Most of
these men were indeed of that altitude of talent, piety,
dignity, and patriotism, which partisan pigmies natu
rally hate, by the inherent antipathy of littleness to
o-reatness, and of vice to virtue; but in New England,

474 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
the enlightened generation araong whom they lived,
estimated them according to their true merits. These
never believed them to be conspirators ; they knew,
indeed, the fact to be otherwise. Even the blinding
influence of party spirit has never raade the better
class of deraocrats in New England believe that the
Convention meditated treason. As to the mass of
the people, they held and still hold that the Hartford
Convention was one of the ablest and wisest assem
blies ever convened in the country.
I ara aware, however, that the prevailing opinion
in the United States at large has been, and perhaps
still is, the reverse of this. Out of New England,
democracy is the dominant party. The war was a
democratic measure, and the Convention was the
work of the federalists, who opposed th-e war. It is,
doubtless, too rauch to expect that party spirit will
exercise candor toward those who brave and baffle
it — at least during the conflict. There were raany
reasons why the Convention was an unpardonable
sin in the eyes of democracy : it was opposition to
the war, and that itself was treason : the war was
attended with defeat, disaster, disgrace, and to turn
retribution from the heads of the war-makers, it was
considered politic to charge every miscarriage to the
war opposers. In short, it was deemed the best way
for self preservation, by the democratic leaders, to sink
the federalists in undying infamy. Hence they per
sisted in denouncing the Convention as an assembly

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 475
of conspirators. It is admitted that there was no overt
act of treason, but it is maintained that there was
treason in their hearts, the development of which was
only prevented by the return of peace, and the indig
nant rebuke of public sentiment.
The foundation of this tenacious calumny is doubtr
le.ss to be traced to John Quincy Adams, who, hav
ing lost the confidence of his political associates —
the federalists of Massachusetts — and not being elect
ed to a second term as Senator of the United States,
speedily changed his politics, and made a disclosure,
real or pretended, to Jefi"erson,.in 1808,* to the effect
that the federalists of the North — taking advantage
of the uneasiness of the people on account of the
distresses imposed upon them by the embargo — -were
meditating a separation from the Union, and an alli
ance with Great Britain — of all things the most likely
to obtain democratic belief and to excite democratic
horror. Here was the germ of that clinging scandal against
New England, which has been perpetuated for forty
years. It certainly had a respectable voucher at the
beginning, but its utter want of foundation has long
since been proved. For about twenty years, however,
the libel was permitted — in secret and of course with
out contradiction — to ferment and expand and work
itself over the minds of Jefferson and his associates.

* See note ou page 274, of this work. Also Hildreth, second
series, vol. iii. pp. 79, 117.

476 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
It had created such an impression, that Madison —
when President — had only to be told by an unaccred-
ited foreigner, that he had the secret of a federal plot
for disunion in Massachusetts, and he at once bought
it, and paid fifty thousand dollars for it out of the
public treasury.* No doubt he really expected to find
that he had a rope round the necks of half the feder
alists in New England. He soon discovered, however,
that the biter was bit. John Henry duped the Presi
dent, who seized the hook, because it was baited with
suspicions, the seeds of which John Q. Adams had
furnished some years before.
It was not till the year 1828, when that person was
a candidate for the presidency a second time, that the
whole facts in regard to this calumny were developed.
He was then called seriously to account,f and such

* In March, 1812, Madison sent to Congress certain documents, pre
tending to disclose a secret plot, for the dismemberment of the Union,
and the formation of the Eastern States into a political connection
with Great Britain. It seems that in the winter of 1809, Sir J. H.
Craig, Governor-general of Canada, eraployed John Henry to undertake
a secret mission to the United States for this object. Henry proceeded
through Vermont and New Hampshire to Boston. He, however, never
found a person to whom he could broach the subject ! As he stated,
the British government refused the promised compensation, and there
fore he turned traitor, and sold his secret to our government. Tlie
subject was fully discussed in Parliament, and it appeared that Hen
ry's scheme was not known to or authorized by the British govern
ment. The whole substance of the raatter was, that our government
was duped by a miserable adventurer. The conduct of Madison, in
this evident greediness to inculpate the federalists, was a lasting ground
of dislike and hostility to him. See Young's Amer. Statesman, p. 248.
t I was living in Boston at the time (October, 1828) when the pubUo
first became fully aware of the fact, that, twenty years before, Mr. Ad
ams had planted the seeds of this accusation against the northern fed

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 477
was the effect, that frora that tirae he was silent. In
vain did he atterapt to furnish evidence of a plausible
foundation for his story. He referred to various wit
nesses, but it was pointedly reraarked that all, save
one,* were dead. Yet these even seemed to rise up
eralists in the eager soil of Mr. Jefferson's mind, where it had flourished
in secret, and whence it had been widely disseminated. There was a
general — indeed, an almost universal — feeling of indignation and aston
ishment. The presidential election was at hand, and Mr. Adams was
the candidate of the whig party for a second term. Those very persons,
whom he had thus maligned — themselves or their descendants — were
now his supporters. The election was perraitted to pass, and Massa
chusetts gave her vote for Mr. Adams ; he was, however, defeated, and
Jackson became his successor.
And now came the retribution. Mr. Adams Avas addressed byH. Q.
Otis, T. H. Perkins, Williara Prescott, Charles Jackson, and others —
men of the highest standing, and representing the old federal party,
charged with treason by him — demanding the proofs of the accusation
for which he stood responsible. I have not space to give here the dis
cussion which followed. Those who wish can find the case clearly stated
in Young's American Statesman, page 442, &e., &o. The result certain
ly was, that Mr. Adaras showed no grounds, even for suspicion, of what
he charged ; and that, even if there had been sorae foundation' for his
opinion, it referred to an earlier date, and to other individuals, and
could not, by any show of fact, reason, or logic, be connected with the
Hartford Convention. Indeed, no person can now read the controversy
referred to, without coming to fhis obvious conclusion. It will be re
membered, in confirmation of this, that John Henry, the British agent,
sent for the purpose of seducing thc Boston federalists, by the British
governor, Craig, never found an individual to whom he dared even to
open his business 1'
At all events, such was the shock of public feelings, caused by the
disclosure of Mr. Adams's charge made to Jefferson, that for a long
time, when he walked the streets of Boston, which he occasionally vis
ited, he was generally passed without being spoken to, even by his for
mer acquaintances. The resentment at last subsided, but he never
recovered the full confidence ofthe people of Massachusetts : they were
content, however, in view of his great merits, to let the raatter pass
'into oblivion. It is only in obedience to the call of history that I write
those facts.
* This individual was William Pluraer, a Senator from New Harap-
shire, who stated that in 1803 and 1804, he was himself in favor of

478 LETTEES — ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
and speak from their very graves. Sons, brothers, rel
atives, associates — including some of the first men in
the United States — indignantly denied, in behalf of
those for whom they had a right to speak, the impu
tations thus cast' upon them. No fair-minded man
can read the discussion now, and fail to see that Mr.
Adams either invented his story — which, however,
is by no means to be presumed — or that, according
to the peculiar structure of his mind, having become
hostile to the federal leaders in Massachusetts, he
really thought he saw evidences of mischief in events
which, fairly viewed, furnished not the slightest
ground even for suspicion.
Thus, as I think, this foundation, this beginning of
the idea that the Hartford Convention originated in
treasonable designs on the part of its members, is
shown to be absolutely groundless. Not one particle
of evidence, calculated to satisfy an honest inquirer
after truth, has ever been adduced to sustain the
charge. The investigation has been in the highest
degree inquisitorial : it was deemed vital to the in
terests of the democratic party to prove, to estab
lish this allegation of treason. Public documents,
newspaper articles, private correspondence, personal
forming a separate government for New England, but he abandoned
these ideas, and nsed his influence against them, when, as he says, they
were revived in 1809 and 1812. He, too, underwent a close examina
tion, and it appeared that he was unable to produce any reliable evi
dence whatever, that any plot for disunion was formed, or that any in
dividual, connected with the Hartford Convention, countenanced such
a scherae. See Young's Amer. Statesman, p. 455, &c.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 479
intercourse — all have been subjected to the rack
and the thumb-screw. The question has been
pushed to the conscience of an individual member
of the Convention, and he has been called to testify,
on oath, as to the origin and intentions of that as
sembly. Its journal, declared to contain every act,
every motion, every suggestion, that took place,
has been published; and now — after forty years
of discussion, thus urged by hostile parties — sober
history is compelled to say, that not a public docu
ment, not a private letter, not a speech, not an act,
secret or open, has been brought to light, which
proves, or tends to prove, the treasonable origin of
the Hartford Convention !
The charge of treason is a serious one : so far
as it may have a just foundation, it is fatal to per
sonal character : it is a stain upon the State to which
it attaches : it is a discredit to human nature, espe
cially in a country like ours, and in a case like that
which we are discussing. It should therefore not be
made — surely it should not be maintained — unless
upon positive, undeniable proof It should not rest
for its defense upon partisan malice, or that inhe
rent littleness which teaches base minds to accept
suspicion as conclusive evidence of what they be
lieve, only because it coincides with their evil
thoughts. While, therefore, there seems to be no
proof of the alleged treasonable origin of the Hart
ford Convention — I am able to do more than can-

480 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
dor demands, and I here present you with direct
testimony from a source that will not be impugned
or discredited, showing that the said Convention origi
nated with the people and from the circumstances of
the times, and not with conspirators, and that its ob
jects were just, proper, patriotic. I shall hereafter
call upon you to admit, that the proceedings of the
Convention were in accordance with this its lawful
and laudable origin.
I now ask your candid attention to the following
statement, made some years after the Convention,
by Noah Webster* — a man perhaps as universally
* It is certainly not necessary for me to write the biography or cer
tify to the character of Noah Webster : these have been carried all over
onr country by his Spelling-book and his Dictionary, erecting monu-
raents of gratitude in the hearts of the millions whom, he has taught
to read, and the millions whom he still teaches, in the perfect use of
our language. It has been said, and with much truth, that he has held
communion with more minds than any other author of modern times.
His learning, his assiduity, his piety, his patriotism, were the ground
work of these successful and beneficent labors. It is the privilege ofa
great and good man to speak, and when he speaks, to be listened to.
The passage here quoted is comprised in his " CoUeotion of Essays,"
pubUshed in 1843 : it was written with a sincere and earnest purpose,
and it seems no more than due to truth aud the justice of logic, to re
ceive it as conclusive proof of the facts it asserts.
Mr. Webster, as is well known, was a native of Hartford, Conn., and
was born in Oct. 1758. Among his classmates at Yale College were Joel
Barlow, OUver Wolcott, Uriah Tracy, Zepheniah Swift, and other men
of erainenoe. His life was spent in various Uterary pursuits. I knew
him well, and raust mention an incident respecting him, still fresh in
my memory. In the sumraer of 1824, 1 was in Paris, and staying at the
Hotel Montmorency. One morning, at an early hour, I entered the court
of the hotel, and on the opposite side, I saw a tall, slender form, with a
black coat, black small-clothes, black silk stockings, moving back and
forth, with its hands behind it, and evidently in a state of meditation.
It was a curious, quaint, Connecticut looking apparition, strangely in
contrast to tho prevailing forms aud aspects in this gay metropolis. I

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 481
known and esteemed as any other in our history.
He testifies to facts within his own knowledge, and
surely no one will deny that, to this extent, he is a
competent and credible witness.
Few transactions of the federalists, during the early periods
of our government, excited so much the angry passions of their
opposers as the Hartford Convention- so called— during the
presidency of Mr. Madison. As I was present at the first meet
ing of the gentlemen who suggested such a convention ; as I
was a member of the House of Eepresentatives in Massachusetts
when the resolve was passed for appointing the delegates, I ad
vocated that resolve ; and further, as I have copies of the doc
uments, which no other person may have preserved, it seeras to
be incumbent on me to present to the pubhc the real facts in
regard to the origin of the measure, which have been vilely fal
sified and misrepresented.
After the War of 1812 had continued two years, our public
affairs were reduced to a deplorable condition. The troops of
the United States, intended for defending the seacoast, had been
withdrawn to carry on the war in Canada ; a British squadron
was stationed in the Sound to prevent the escape of a frigate
from the harbor of New London, and to intercept our coasting-
trade ; one town in Maine was in possession of the British
forces ; the banks south of New England had all suspended the
payment of specie ; our shipping lay in our harbors, embargoed,
dismantled, and perishing; the treasury of the United States
was exhausted to the last cent ; and a general gloom was spread
over the country.
In this condition of affairs, a number of gentlemen, in North-
said to myself— "If it were possible, I should say that was Noah Web
ster 1" I went up to him, and found it was indeed he. At the age
of sixty-six, he had corae to Europe to perfect his Dictionary ! It
is interesting to know that such tenacity of purpose, snch persistency,
Buch courage, were combined with all the refined and amiable qual
ities which dignify and embellish domestic and private life.

483 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
ampton, in Massachusetts, after consultation, determined to in
vite some of the principal inhabitants of the three counties on
the river, formerly composing the old county of Hampshire, to
meet and consider whether any measure could be taken to arrest
the continuance of the war, and provide for the public safety.
In pursuance of this determination, a circular letter was ad
dressed to several gentlemen in the three counties, requesting
them to meet at Northampton. The following is a copy of the
letter : NoBTHAMPToN, Jan. 5, 1814.
Sir : In consequence of the alanning state of our public affairs, and
the doubts which have existed as to the correct course to be pursued
by the friends of peace, it has been thought advisable by a nuraber of
gentleraen in this vicinity, who have consulted together bn the subject,
that a raeeting should be called of sorae few of the most discreet and
intelligent inhabitants of the old county of Hampshire, for the purpose
of a free and dispassionate discussion touching our public concerns.
The legislature will soon be in session, and would probably be gratified
with a knowledge of the feelings and wishes of the people ; and should
the gentlemen who may be assembled recommend any course to be pur
sued by our fellow-citizens, forthe more distinct expression ofthe pub
lic sentiment, it is necessary the proposed meeting should be called at
an early day.
We have therefore ventured to propose that it should be held at Col.
Chapman's, in this town, on Wednesday, the 19th day of January cur
rent, at 12 o'clock in the forenoon, and earnestly request your attend
ance at the above time aud place for the purpose before stated.
With much respect, I am, sir, your obedient servant, Joseph Ltmait.
In compliance with the request in this letter, several gentle
men met at Northampton, on the day appointed, and after a free
conversation on the subject of public affairs, agreed to send to
the several towns in the three counties on the river, the follow
ing circular address :
Sir: The multiplied evils in which the United States have been in
volved by the measures of the late and present administrations, are
subjects of general complaint, and ih the opinion of our wisest states
men call for some effectual remedy. His excellency, the Governor of
the Commonwealth, in his address to the General Court, at the last and

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 483
present session, has stated, in temperate, but clear and decided lan
guage, his opinion of the injustice of tlie present war, and intimated
that measures ought to be adopted by the legislature to bring it to a
speedy close. He also calls the attention of the legislature to sorae
measures of the general government, which are believed to be uncon
stitutional. In all the measures of the general government, the peo
ple of the United States have a common concern, but there are some
laws and regulations, which call more particularly for the attention of
the Northern States, and are deeply interesting to the people of this
Comraonwealth. Feeling this interest, as it respects the present and
future generations, a nuraber of gentlemen from various towns in the
old county of Ilarapshire, have raet and conferred ou the subject, and
¦upon full conviction that the evils we suffer are not wholly ofa tempo
rary nature, springing from the war, but some of them of a permanent
character, resulting from a perverse construction of the Constitution of
the United States, we have thought it a duty we owe to our country, to
invite the attention of the good people of the counties of Hampshire,
Hampden, and Franklin, to the radical causes of these evils.
We know indeed that a negotiation for peace has been recently set
on foot, and peace will remove many public evils. It is au event we
ardently desire. But when we consider how often the people of the
country have been disappointed in their expectations of peace, and of
wise measures ; and when we consider the terms which our adminis
tration has hitherto demanded, some of which, it is certain, can not be
obtained, and some of which, in the opinion of able statesmen, ought
not to be insisted upon, we confess our hopes of a speedy peace are
not very sanguine.
But still, a very serious question occurs, whether, without an amend
ment of the Federal Constitution, the northern aud commercial States
can enjoy the advantages to which their wealth, strength, and white
population justly entitle them. By means of the representation of
slaves, the Southern States have an influence in our national councils
altogether disproportionate to their wealth, strength, and resources ; and
we presume it to be a fact capable of demonstration, that for about twen
ty years past the United States have been governed by a representation
of about two-fifths of the actual property of the country.
In addition to this, the creation of new States in the South, and out
of the original limits of the United States, has increased the southern
interest, which has appeared so hostile to the peace and commercial
prosperity of tbe Northern States. This power assumed by Congress .
of bringing into the Union' new States, not comprehended within the
territory of the United States at the time of the federal compact, is
deemed arbitrary, unjust, and dangerous, and a direct infringement of
the Ccnstitution. This is a power which may hereafter he exteniled, aud
the evil wiU not cease with the establishment of peace. We would ask,
then, ought the Northern States to acquiesce in the exercise of this

484 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
power ? To what consequences would it lead ? How can the people of
the Northern States answej- to themselves and to their posterity for an
acquiescence in the exercise of this power, that augments an influence
already destructive of our prosperity, and will in time annihilate the
best interests ofthe northern people ?
There are other measures of the general government, which, we ap
prehend, ought to excite serious alarm. The power assumed to lay a
permanent embargo appears not to be constitutional, but an encroach
ment on the rights of our citizens, which calls for decided opposition.
It is a power, we believe, never before exercised by a commercial na
tion ; and how can the Northern States, which are habitually commer
cial, and whose active foreign trade is so necessarily connected with the
interest of the farmer and mechanic, sleep in tranquillity under such a
violent infringement of tlieir rights ? But this is not all. The late act
imposing an embargo is subversive of the first principles of civil lib
erty. The trade coastwise between different ports in the same State is
arbitrarily and unconstitutionally prohibited, and the subordinate of
fices of government are vested with powers altogether inconsistent with
our republican institutions. It arms the President and his agents with
complete control of persons and property, and authorizes the employ
ment of military force to carry its ejtraordinary provisions into execu
tion. We forbear to enumerate all the measures of the federal government
which we consider as violations of the Constitution, and encroachments
upon the rights of the people, and which bear particularly hard upon
the commercial people of the North. But we would in-vite our fellow-
citizens to consider whether peace will remedy our public evils, without
some amendments ofthe Constitution, which shall secure to the North
ern States their due weight and influence in our national councils.
The Northern States acceded to the representation of slaves as a mat
ter of compromise, upon the express stipulation in the Constitution that
they should be protected iu the enjoyment of their commercial rights.
These stipulations have been repeatedly violated ; and it can not be ex
pected that the Northern States should be willing to bear their portion
of the burdens of the federal government without enjoying the benefits
stipulated. If our fellow-citizens should concur with us in opinion, we would
suggest whether it would not be expedient for the people in town meet
ings to address meraorials to the General Court, at their present session,
petitioning that honorable body to propose aconvention of all the North
ern and commercial States, by delegates to be appointed by their re
spective legislatures, to consult upon measures in concert, for procuring
such alterations in the federal Constitution as will give to the Northern
States a due proportion of representation, and secure them frora the fu
ture exercise of powers injurious to their commercial interests ; or if the
General Court shall see fit, that they should pursue such other course

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 485
ai. they, in their wi.sdom, shall deem best calculated to effect these ob
jects. The measure is of suoh magnitude, that we apprehend a concert
of States will be useful and even necessary to procure the amendments
proposed; and should the people of the several States concur in this
opinion, it ».-ould be expedient to act on the subject without delay.
We request you, sir, to consult with your friends on the subject, and,
if it should be thought advisable, to lay this communication before the
people of your town.
In behalf, and by direction of the gentlemen assembled,
Joseph Lyman, Chairman. .
In compliance with the request and suggestions in this circu
lar, many town meetings were held, and with great unanimity,
addresses and memorials were voted to be presented to the Gen
eral Court, stating the sufferings of the country in consequence
of the embargo, the war, and arbitrary restrictions on our coast
ing trade, with the violations of our constitutional rights, and
requesting the legislature to take measures for obtaining redress,
either by a convention of delegates from the Northern and com
mercial States, or by such other measures as they should judge
to be expedient.
These addresses and memorials were transmitted to the Gen
eral Court then in session, but as commissioners had been sent
to Europe for the purpose of negotiating a treaty of peace, it
was judged advisable not to have any action upon them tiU the
result of the negotiation should be known. But during the fol
lowing summer, no news of peace arrived ; and the distresses of
the country increasing, and the seacoast remaining defenseless,
Governor Strong summoned a special meeting of the legislature
in October, in which the petitions of the towns were taken into
consideration, and a resolve was passed appointing delegates to
I convention to be held in Hartford. The subsequent history
)f that convention is known by their report.
The measure of resorting to a convention for the purpose of
irresting the evils of a bad administration, roused the jealousy
it the advocates of the war, and called forth the bitterest invee- /
tives. The convention was represented as a treasonable combi
nation, originating in Boston, for the purpose of dissolving the

486 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Union. But citizens of Boston had no concern in ori^nating
the proposal for a convention ; it was wholly the project of the
people in old Hampshire county — as respectable and patriotic
republicans as ever trod the soil of a free country. The citizens
who first assembled in Northampton, convened under the
authority of the hill of rights, which declares that the people
have a right to meet in a peaceable manner and consult for
the public safety. The citizens had the same right then to
meet in convention as they have now ; the distresses of the
country demanded extraordinary measures for redress; the
thought of dissolving the Union never entered into the head of
any of the projectors, or of the members of the Convention ;
the gentlemen who composed it, for talents and patriotism have
never been surpassed by any assembly in the United States, and
beyond a question the appointment of the Hartford Convention
had a very favorable effect in hastening the conclusion of a treaty
of peace.
All the reports which have been circulated respecting the
evU designs of that Convention, I know to be the foulest mis
representations. Indeed, respecting the views of the disciples
of Washington and the supporters of his policy, many, and prob
ably most of the people of the United States in this generation,
are made to believe far more falsehood than truth. I speak of
facts within my own personal knowledge. We may well say
with the prophet — " Truth is fallen in the street, and equity can
not enter." Party spirit produces an unwholesome zeal to de
preciate one class of men for the purpose of exalting another. It
becomes rampant in propagating slander, which engenders con
tempt for personal worth and superior excellence ; it blunts tho
sensibility of men to injured reputation; impairs a sense of
honor ; banishes the charities of life ; debases the moral sense of
the community ; weakens the motives that prompt men to aim
at high attainments and patriotic achievements ; degrades na
tional character, and exposes it to the scorn of the civilized
world.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 487
Such is the testimony — direct, positive, documen
tary — of Noah Webster, as to the origin of the Hart
ford Convention.* This, be it remembered, is evidence
furnished by one outside of that assembly : let rne
now present you with the testiraony of Eoger Minot
Sherman — a member of that body, and a worthy
bearer of one of the most honored names ih Ameri
can history. [From the Norwalk Gazette, January, 1831.]
To the Editor of the Gazette :
Previous to the trial of Whitman Mead, on the charge of libel,
of which you gave a brief notice in your last number, the pris-
* This statement, on the part of Mr. Webster, does not exclude the
supposition that the idea of a convention of the New England States
may have been previously suggested by others. Such a thing was very
likely to occur to many minds, inasmuch as New England had been
accustomed, from time immemorial, to hold conventions, in periods
of trouble and anxiety. His testimony, however, shows clearly that
the actual, efficient movement which resulted in the Hartford Conven
tion, originated, as he states, -with the citizens of Hampshire county.
Other testimony shows that some prominent federalists did not at first
favor it, and only yielded at last to a feeling of prudence, iu following
this lead of the people.
The following letter from Harrison Gray Otis to Mrs. Willard, writ
ten in reply to a request from her, for information on thc subject, will
be seen to correspond with Mr. Webster's statement, and also with the
proceedings of the Convention, and all other known facts relating to it,
in such a manner as to satisfy every honest raind of its truth.
"The Hartford Convention, far from being the original contrivance
of a cabal for auy purpose of faction or disunion, was a result growing,
by natural consequences, out of existing oircumstances. More than a
year previous to its institution, a convention was simultaneously called
for by the people in their town meetings, in all parts of Massachusetts.
Petitions to that effect were accumulated on the tables of the legislative
chamber. They were postponed for twelve months by the infiuence
of those who now sustain the odium of the measure. The adoption of
il was the consequence, not the source of a popular sentiment ; and it
was intended by those who voted for it, as a safety-valve, by which tb«
VOL. II.— 2

488 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
oner moved the Court for a subpoena, to Mr. Sherman, of Fair
field, Mr. Goddard, of Norwich, and others, as witnesses in
his behalf. It was allowed by the Court, and was served on
Mr. Sherman, but could not be, seasonably, on Mr. Goddard, on
account of the lateness of his application. One of the articles
charged as libellous, compared a recent political meeting at Hart
ford with the Hartford Convention, and the prisoner supposed
that a full development of the proceedings of that Convention
would furnish a legal vindication of the article in question. With
a view to such development, he wished the testimony of the gen
tlemen above named. At the instance of the prisoner, Mr. Sher
man testified on the trial of the case, and the inclosed paper con
tains his testimony, exact in substance, and very nearly in his
language — which you are at liberty to pubhsh. — [The trial took
place at Fairfield, Connecticut, the place of Mr. Sherman's resi
dence, in January, 1831.J
State of Connecticut, 1
vs. >
Whitman Mead. ) Hon. Roger Minot Sherman's TestiTnony.
Q'uestion by the Prisoner. What was the nature and object of tne
Hartford Convention?
Anstoer. I was a member of that Convention. It met on the 15th of
.December, 1814. The United States were then at war with Great Brit
ain. They had, in their forts and armies, twenty-seven thousand ef
fective raen : of these about thirteen hundred only were employed in.
New England. The war had been in operation two years and a half.
We had a seacoast of alraost seven hnndred miles to protect, and with
the exception of about thirteen hundred men, had the aid of no miU
tary force from the United States. By internal taxes, all others having
become unproductive by reason of the war, the national government
raised large sums from the people within our territory. Direct taxation
was the only resource of the State governments, and this had been car
ried to as great an extreme in Connecticut as could be sustained. The
banks, which furnished all our currency, either withheld their accom
modations or stopped payment, and the people were embarrassed by a
general stagnation of business. Powerful fleets and armies lay off our
steam arising from the ferraentation of the times might escape, not as
a boiler by which it is generated." (See WiUard's History of the United
Males, p. 351.)

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 489
coasts, and were making or threatening invasions in all parts of our de
fenseless sea-board. Commodore Decatur, with his squadron, had taken
refuge in the waters of Connecticut, and attracted a powerful ooncenlra-
tion of the enemy's forces on our borders. Castine, if I mistake not,
and some other parts of the territory of Massachusetts, had fallen into
the hands of the British. The New England States, under all these dis
advantages, were obliged to protect themselves by their own miUtia, at
their own expense. The expenses of Connecticut greatly exceeded our
resources. The duration of the war could not be foreseen, and oui
credit was exhausted. Attempts were raade to borrow money, but with
out any adequate success. The national Constitution prohibited the
emission of bills of credit. In this extremity, while the legislature was
in session at New Haven, in October, 1814, a coramunication was re
ceived frora the legislature of Massachusetts, proposing a convention of
delegates from the New England States, to consult on the adoption of
measures for their common safety. This oommnnioation was referred
to a joint comraittee of both houses. General Henry Charapion and
myself were appointed frora the Upper House. He vvas chairman ofthe
committee. I drew the report, recommending a compliance with the
proposal raade by the State of Massachusetts, and assigning the reasons
at length. This report was published by order of the legislature, and
extensively circulated in the newspapers of this and otherStates. Seven
delegates were appointed to represent the Convention. As soon as it
was organized, Mr. Otis, a delegate from Massachusetts, proposed, after
some prefatory remarks, that it should be recommended to our several
legislatures to present a petition to the Congress of the United States,
praying that they would consent that the New England States, or so
many of them as should agree together for that purpose, might unite
in defending themselves against the public enemy ; that so much ofthe
national revenue as should be collected in these States, should be ap
propriated to the expense of that defense ; that the amount so appro
priated should be credited to the United States ; and that the United
States should agree to pay whatever should be expended beyond that
amount. This proposal was approved by the Convention. The same
views had been stated here before the meeting of the delegates. By
the Constitution of the United States, no such compact for mutual de
fense could be formed, without the consent of Congress. By thus aug
menting our iraraediate resources, and obtaining the national guaranty
that the expenses ofthe war, to be increased by the States thus uniting,
should be ultimately paid out of the national treasury, it was supposed
that our credit, as well as our present pecuniary resources, would be
enhanced. A debate was had in the Convention as to certain amend
ments to the Constitution ofthe United States, to be proposed for adop
tion by the State legislatures. One was, that Congress should not have
power to declare war without the concurrence of two-thirds of both
houses. I can not, from recollection, detail the proposed amendments ;

490 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
but they appear on the printed report of the Convention, of which I
have a copy at ray office, which the prisoner may use on the trial, if he
pleases. A committee, of whom I was one, was appointed by the Con
vention to draw up that report to present to their respective legislatures.
The proposal of Mr. Otis was adopted with Uttle variation. This report
was immediately printed by order ofthe Convention, and was circulated
throughout the country.
Among other things, as may be seen by that report, it was recom
mended to the legislatures represented in the Convention, to adopt
measures to protect their citizens from such conscriptions or impress
ments as were not authorized by the Constitution of the United States.
This resolution originated from a project of the then Secretary of War,
which I believe was not adopted by Congress. The secretary of the
Convention kept a journal of their proceedings. This, as I understand,
was deposited by Mr. Cabot, the President, in the office of the Secretary
of State of Massachusetts, and a copy transmitted to Washington, and
lodged in the office of the Secretary of State of the United States. It
was afterward published in certain newspapers. I saw it in the Ameri
can Mercury, a newspaper pubUshed at Hartford, by Mr. Babcock. The
legislatures of Massachusetts and Connecticut, pursuant to the recom
mendation of the Convention, sent a delegation to Washington, to pre
sent their respective petitions to the Congress ofthe United States. The
gentlemen sent from Connecticut were Mr. Terry, Mr. Goddard, and, I
think, Mr. Dwight. On their arrival, the Treaty of Peace, concluded at
Ghent, reached the national government, and further measures became
unnecessary. This is an outline of the origin aud proceedings of the Hartford Con
vention. There was not, according to my best recollection, a single mo
tion, resolution, or subject of debate, but what appears in the prmted
journal or report. If any further .particulars are requested, I wiU state
them. Question by the Prisoner. Waa it not an object of the Convention to
embarrass and paralyze the government of the United States in the
prosecution of the war with Great Britain ?
Answer. It was not. Nothing of the kind was done or entertained
by the Convention, or, so far as I know or believe, by those by whom it
was originated. On the contrary, its principal object was a more effectual
co-operation in that war, as to the defense ofthe New England States.
Question by tlie Prisoner. Has not that Convention been generally re
puted iu the United States to be treasonable ?
Answer. Much has been said and published to that effect, but with
out the least foundation. I believe I know their proceedings perfectly;
and that every measure, done or proposed, has been published to the
world. No one act has ever been pointed out, to my knowledge, as in-
consLstent with their obligations to the United States, nor was any such
act over coutemplated by them.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 491
Here is the testimony of a great and good man — a
member of the Convention — under oath. Who will
venture to gainsay it ? Certainly no individual who
feels the claims of truth, and appreciates the requi
sitions of logic, unless he is armed with proofs, clear,
indisputable, demonstrative ; he must bring facts
sufficient to destroy the direct testimony of such
men as Noah Webster and Eoger M. Sherman, and,
indeed, a cloud of other witnesses of equal weight
and responsibility.
It seems to me that every candid mind, upon these
statements, will be constrained to admit that the Con
vention thus originated in public necessity, and not Id
treason ; I think the additional evidence I am about
to present will satisfy you that their proceedings were
in harmony with the wise and worthy motives that
brought the members together.
If you look into certain partisan histories of the
times, you might be led to suppose that on the day
of the gathering of the Convention at Hartford — the
15th of December, 1814 — the heavens and the earth
were clothed in black ; that the public mind was filled
with universal gloom ; that the bells— tremulous with
liorror — tolled in funereal chimes; that the flag of the
country everywhere was at half mast ; and that the
whole American army marched with muffled drums
and inverted arms, and all this in token of the qua
king terror of the public mind, at the ominous gath
ering of a committee of some two dozen mild, respect-

493 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
able, gray-haired old gentlemen, mostly appointed
by the legislatures of Massachusetts, Connecticut,
and Ehode Island, to investigate and report upon
the state of public affairs ! Such, I recollect, was the
picture of Hartford, that was circulated over the
country by the democratic papers* remote from the
* The foUowing is from the American Mercury, the democratic or
gan at Hartford — Dec. 18, 1815, a year after the Convention. There
can be little doubt that, at the outset, many ofthe democrats really felt
that the Convention meditated treason. I have already shown that the
leaders of democracy had been made, by the revelations of John Q.
Adams, to suspect the northern federalists ; and there is no doubt
that Madison and his cabinet, for a time, apprehended that the Hart
ford Convention was to be the fulfillment of Adams's prediction. But
the maledictions here poured out by the Mercury — a year after the gath
ering of the Convention, and when its innocence, to say the least, was
universally known and understood — were mere electioneering devices.
They are interesting, however, as showing the means by which the
obstinate prejudice against the Convention was wrought into the minds
of the mass ofthe democratic party.
"The fifteenth of December is an epoch in the history of America
which can never be passed over by Eepublicans, without mingled emo
tions of regret and exultation : of regret, that we have among us * men
— freeborn men — men born, nursed, aud brought up by our firesides —
Americans — American citizens,' who are so depraved, so wicked, as to
aim a dagger at the vitals of their already bleeding country, and to at
tempt to subvert the liberties of the people ; of exaltation, that the grand
designs of these hellish conspirators have been frustrated with infamy,
aud that the Union has triumphed over their mischievous machinations !
" Impressed with these sentiments, the Republicans of Hartford, on
Eriday last (being the day of the first meeting of the Convention), dis
played the flag of the Union at half-mast during the early part of the
day, as expressive of their sorrow for the depravity of those, who, one
year since, were plotting in our city, in conjunction with Britain, the
destruction of the liberties of the Kepublio. In the afternoon, the flag
was raised to the masthead, as embleraatieal of the complete discom
fiture of their designs, and the triumph of the Constitution. Iu the
rueful oqjintenanoe ofthe federalists, it was plain to discover the morti
fication and chagrin which they experienced. They say, lot us bury in
oblivion's dark bastile all bitter recollection ! But so long as New Eng
land is cursed with federal rulers, till she emerges from the darkness

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 493
scene of action. The whole is very well reflected in
the inspired pages of Charles Jared Ingersoll,* who
may be considered as the Jeremiah of democracy, for
this period of our history. He seems to have regarded
himself as specially raised up to prophesy against
New England. " The sin of Judah"-— that is, of fed
eralism — he has written " with a pen of iron," though
not " with the point of a diamond."
Now I perfectly well remember the day of the
gathering of the Convention. f There was in the city
which has for years enveloped her, till republicauisra reigns triumph
ant throughout New England (which we trust in God is close at hand),
it becomes the imperious duty of Eepublicans to hold up to the con
tempt of the people, their wicked and nefarious designs. * * *
'* We think it a duty we owe to our country, to publish annually tho
names of those who composed the ' Hartford Convention,' that they may
never be forgotten." Here follows a list of the naraes.
Not only the Hartford Mercury, but the Boston Patriot, and probably
other deraocratic journals, made a similar pledge to hold up to eternal
disgrace this black list of conspirators. All this was, however, a mere
electioneering game, and after two or three years, the pledge was for
gotten. * " Historical Sketch of the Second War between ihe United States arid
Great Britain, by Charles Jared Ingersoll."
t The foUowing are the names ofthe members of the so-called Hart
ford Convention : those from Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Ehode
Island were appointed from the State legislatures; those from New
Hampshire, by county conventions ; the delegate from Verraont was
chosen by persons in the county of Windham. These were all appoint
ed "/or the purpose of devising and recommending such measures for the
safety and welfare of these States as may be co-nsistent with our obligations
as members of the National Union."
From Massachusetts — George Cabot, Nathan Dane, William Pres
cott, Harrison Gray Otis, Timothy Bigelow, Joshua Thomas, Samuel
Sumner Wilde, Joseph Lyraan, Stephen Longfellow, Jr., Daniel Waldo,
Hodijah Baylies, George BUss.
F?'om Connecticut — Chauncey Goodrich, Johu Treadwell, James Hill
house, Zephaniah Swift, Nathaniel Smith, Calvin Goddard, Eoger M.
Sherman.

494 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
a small squad of United States recruits — I think some
two dozen in nuraber. These, assisted no doubt by
others, ran up the American flag at their rendezvous,
with the British flag at half-mast, beneath it. They
also — these two dozen, more or less — marched througli
the streets with reversed arms and muffled drums. A
few persons, I believe, got hold of the bell-rope oi
the Baptist meeting-house, and rang a funereal chime.
All this — chiefly the work of the rabble — was the
scoff of the great body of the people ; nevertheless,
it was reported in the democratic papers abroad, as
if some black and mighty portent had signalized the
arrival of the Convention. The simple truth was,
that the six and twenty gray-haired men — legislators,
senators, judges — honored for long years of service —
came quietly into town, and were welcomed by the
mass of the citizens, according to their standing and
their mission, with respect, esteem, and confidence.
Let us take a sketch of what followed from the
prophet Jared : " On the 15th of Deceraber, 1814,
with excited sentiraents of apprehension, raingled
approval and derision, the inhabitants of Hartford
awaited the nefandous Convention, which takes its
bad name from that quiet town." " One of their
number, Chauncey Goodrich, was mayor of Hartford,
hy luhose arrangements the Convention was disposed oj
From Rhode Isla/nd — Daniel Lyraan, Samuel Ward, Edward Man-
ton, Benjamin Hazard.
From New ifempste-6— Benjarain West, Mills Olcott.
From Vermont — WiUiara HaU, Jr.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 495
in the retirement of the second story of an isolated stone
building, in which tlie little State Senate or Council sat,
lohen, in rotation, Hartford was the seat of governm.ent.
Locking themselves up stairs, there, in awfully obscure
concealment, for three weeks, twice every day, except Sun
day, Christmas and New Year's-day, ihey were coifitinu-
ally in conclave," &c.
What an. accumulation of horrors ! Tell me, my
dear C . . . ., does not your hair bristle at the grisly
picture ? It i-ndeed sounds like a tale of the Inqui
sition. What a pity it is to spoil it ! And yet, this
infernal Eembrandt coloring — this violent contrast of
light and shade — is wholly imaginary. The Con
vention met in the coun cil -chamber of the State-
house, which the gazetteers tell us — and tell us truly
— is a very handsome building, ft is in the center
of the city, and the most prominent edifice in the
place. The room in which they met is still the
senate-chamber, and is neither isolated nor obscure :
on the contrary, it is one of the best and raost con
spicuous rooms in the building : at the tirae, it was
probably the finest public hall in the State.*
It is true that the Convention sat with closed doors,
as probably every similar convention had done be-
* The Hon. E. E. Hinman, the historian of Connecticut during the
Eevolutionary period, and several years Secretary of State, once told rae a
good anecdote in relation to this dark, disraal hiding-place ofthe " nefan
dous" Convention. One day, a man from the South — I beUeve a South
Carolinian— sorae one doubtless who had been reading Ihgersoll's his
tory, came into the offioe of the Secretary, and desired to be shown the
place where the Hartford Convention sat. Mr. Hinman accordingly
2*

496 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
fore. The State Council — in whose room the Con
vention met — had furnished this example from time
iraraeraorial. The General Assembly of Connecticut
had always done the sarae, at periods of difficulty and
danger. The Convention that fraraed the Constitu
tion of the United States had done likewise. The
Continental Congress did the sarae, through the whole
period of the war of the Eevolution. A great part
of the executive business of the United States Sen
ate is now done in secret session, and is never
known to the public. The archives of the State De
partment, at Washington, are under the lock and key
of the Executive. The legislature of every State has
the capacity to hold secret sessions, and nobody ques
tions their right to exercise it according to their dis
cretion. Both houses of Congress discussed, resolved
upon, and voted the war of 1812, in secret session !
And yet, what was useful, proper, and of good re
took hira into the room. Tho stranger looked around with much curi
osity, and presently he saw Stuart's likeness of Washington — for in
this chamber is one of the raost celebrated of the full-length portraits
of the Father of his Country.
The stranger started. "And was this picture here, when the Con
vention held its sittings ?" said he.
" Yes, certainly," said the secretary.
" Well," replied the man — observing the high color which Stuart
had given to the countenance of Washington, in the picture — " weU,
ru be d  -d if he's got the blush off yet 1"
This is a sharp joke ; but yet, it is natural to ask — if Washington's
picture should blush for the Hartford Convention — which above all
things advocated the preservation of the Union — what should it have
done in the presence of that Convention in South Carolina, November,
1882, which resulted in an open, avowed opposition to the Union, and
has perhaps laid the foundation for its overthrow, in establishing the
doctrine of Seoe.ision 3

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 497
port in all other similar bodies, was " nefandous" in
the Hartford Convention ! So saith Jared, the his
torian, whose account seems to consist largely of the
prejudices and exaggerations of the democratic pa
pers of that day — raked together in one undigested
heap. As such it is amusing — nay, instructive — but
alas, how is history degraded, when such a mass of
incongruities assumes its sacred name !
I have told you that I was at this time living with
my uncle, Chauncey Goodrich — then a member of the
Convention. His house, of course, became the fre
quent rendezvous of the other members, and here I
often saw them. On one occasion, in the evening,
they all met at his house, by invitation — the only
instance in which they partook of any similar festiv
ity. At this time, the other persons present, so far
as I recollect, were William Coleman,* editor ofthe
* William Coleman was a native of Massachusetts, and was born in
1766. He studied law, and settled at Greenfield about 1794, where he
erected a house, noted for its architectural beauty. Here he also edited
a newspaper. Buckingham — vol. ii. p. 319 — says that he was remarkable
for his vigor in skating, having passed in one evening frora near Green
field to Northampton, a distance of about tu'enty miles. As I recol
lect him, he was a large man, of robust appearance, with a vigorous and
manly countenance. His nose was bony and prominent, and in con
nection with a strongly defined brow, gave his face an expression of
vigor and sagacity. His eye was gray, his hair light brown, and at the
time I speak of, was shghtly grizzled. He reraoved to New York, where
he pubUshed some law books, and in 1801 (Nov. 16), founded the Eve
ning Post, which became » leading federal paper, and so continued for
many years. Its columns were distinguished for ability, as weU in its
political discussions as its literary essays and criticisms. In general, ha
set a good example of dignity of style and gentlemanly decorum, though
he was drawn into some violent altercations with Cheetham and Duane.
It ia sufficient eulogy of Mr. Coleman to say that he enjoyed the con-

498 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
New York Evening Post, Theodore Dwight, sec
retary of the Convention, my cousin, Elizur Good
rich, now of H-artford, and myself The majority of
the members were aged men, and marked not only
with the gravity of years, but of the positions which
they held in society — for some of them had been gov
ernors, some senators, some judges. I do not recol
lect ever to have seen an assemblage of raore true
dignity in aspect, raanner, and speech. They were
dressed, on the evening in question, soraewhat in
the ancient costurae — black coats, black silk waist
coats, black breeches, black silk stockings, black
shoes. I wonder that this universal black has not
been put into the indictraent against thera ! Perhaps
the silvery-whiteness of their heads — for the majority
were past fifty, several past sixty — may have pleaded
in extenuation of this sinister complexion of their dress.
The most imposing raan among them, in personal
appearance, was George Cabot,* the president. He
was over six feet in height, broad-shouldered, and of
a manly step. His hair was white — for he was past
sixty — his eye blue, his complexion slightly florid. He
seeraed to rae like Washington — as if the great man.

fidence of Harallton, King, Jay, and other notabilities of that day, and
that he raade the Evening Post worthy of the editorial suocessorship of
Leggett (1829) and of Bryant (1836).
•* George Cabot was a native of Salem, Mass., born in 1752. He was
originally a shipmaster, but he rose to various stations of eminence.
He became a senator of the United States, and in 1798 was appointed
the flrst Secretary of the Navy, but decUned. His personal influence
iu Boston was unbounded. Hedied in that city, 1823.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 499
as painted by Stuart, had walked out of the canvas,
and lived and breathed among us. He was, in fact,
Washingtonian in his whole air and bearing, as was
proper for one who was Washington's friend, and
who had drunk deep at the same fountain — that of
the Eevolution — of the spirit of truth, honor, and
patriotism. In aspect and general appearance, he
was strikingly dignified, and such was the effect of
his presence, that in a crowded room, and amid other
men of mark — when you once became conscious that
he was there, you could hardly forget it. You seem
ed always to see him — as the traveler in Switzerland
sees Mont Blanc towering above other mountains
around him, wherever he may be. And yet he was
easy and gracious in his manners, his countenance
wearing a calm but radiant cheerfulness, especially
when he spoke. He was celebrated for his conver
sational powers, and I often remarked that when he
began to converse, all eyes and ears turned toward
him, as if eager to catch the music of his voice and
the light of his mind. He came to my uncle's al
most every morning before the meeting of the Con
vention, and I have never felt more the power of
goodness and greatness, than in witnessing the inter
course between these two men.
The next person as to prominence, in the Massa
chusetts delegation, was Harrison Gray Otis,* then in

* Harrison Gray Otis, son of Sarauel A. Otis, the flrst Secretary of
the Senate of the United States, was born in 1765, and died 1848. Ho

500 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
the zenith of his years and his farae. He had a name
honorable by tradition, and a position — social as well
as political — due to his great wealth, his eminent tal-'
ents, and his various accomplishments. He was
doubtless the most conspicuous political character in
New England — for the sun of Webster was but just
rising in the horizon. He was deemed ambitious,
and hence was regarded by the democrats as the
arch instigator of the traitorous Convention. Such
an opinion, however, shows the greatest ignorance of
his character and the actual state of things. Mr.
Otis was a far-seeing politician, and knew there was
no treason in the hearts of the people of New Eng
land : he stood at the highest point to which am
bition could lead him, and any step in that direction
must be downward. Besides, he was of the cau
tious, not the dashing school of statesmanship, as well
by constitution as training. To suppose him a plot
ter of treason, is to divest hira of all his attributes —
inherent and conventional. It is, furtherraore, his
torical a,nd beyond dispute, that he was averse to the
Convention. By his influence, it was delayed, long
after it was proposed and alraost clamored for by the

was one of the raost eminent of the Massachusetts bar, even by the side
of Ames, Parsons, Lowell, and Gore. He succeeded Ames iu Congress,
in 1797. In 1817, he became a senator of the United States. To learn
ing and vigor of intellect, he added great powers of oratory, captivating
alike to the simple and the refined. He held various other offices, and
in these, discharged his duties with distinguished ability. His resi
dence was at Boston. He retained his mental faculties, his cheerfulness,
and his amenity of demeanor, to the last.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 501
people. He objected to being a member of it, and
only yielded at last, that he might use his influence
to secure to it a safe and tranquilizing direction.
At the very opening of the Convention, he signal
ized himself by proposing the safe and discreet meas
ures which were finally adopted. Hence, he always
felt, with a keen sense of injustice, the imputation
which long hung about him, as being the leader in a
treasonable enterprise.
The impression he made on my mind upon the oc
casion I am describing, was deep and lasting. He
had not the lofty Washingtonian dignity of George
Cabot, nor the grave suavity of Chauncey Goodrich ;
he was, in fact, of quite a different type — easy, pol
ished, courtly — passing frora one individual to an
other, and carrying a line of light from countenance
to countenance, either by his playful wit or gracious
personal allusions. He seemed to know everybody,
and to be able to say to each precisely the most ap
propriate thing that could be said. He was one of the
handsomest men of his time ; his features being classi
cally cut, and still full of movement and expression.
To me — who had seen little of society beyond Connec
ticut, and accustomed therefore to the rather staid man
ners of public men — Mr. Otis was an object of strange,
yet admiring curiosity. I knew him well, some
years after and when I was more conversant with the
world, and he still seeraed to me a very high exam
ple of the finished gentleman of the assiduous and

503 LETl'EES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
courtly school. He lowered himself no doubt, in the
public estimation by his somewhat restive and quer
ulous — though masterly and conclusive — vindica
tions of the Convention; while all the other members,
conscious of rectitude, scorned to put themselves in
the attitude of defense. We may forgive what seemed
a weakness in Mr. Otis, while we must pay homage to
that dignity in his associates, which would not stoop
to ask in life, the justice which they knew posterity
must render them, in their graves.
Of the other members of the Massachusetts dele
gation, I have less distinct personal reminiscences.
Mr., Prescott, father of the historian,* and Mr. Long-
fellow,f father of the poet — worthy, by their talents,
their virtues, and their position, of such descendants
— I only remember as two grave, respectable old
gentlemen, seeming, by a magic I did not then com
prehend, to extort from all around them peculiar
* WUliara Prescott was a native of Pepperell, Mass., born 1762. His
father. Colonel Prescott, commanded at the battle of Bunker Hill. He
became one of the most eminent lawyers m the State, and filled various
public stations. Mr. Webster said of hira at the time of his death, in
1844 : " No man in the community, during the last quarter of a centu
ry, felt himself too high, either from his position or his talents, to ask
counsel of Mr. Prescott."
t Stephen Longfellow, of Portland, Maine, was an eminent lawyer,
and ranked among the most distinguished and estimable citizens of New
England. He was noted for unsullied purity of life and character, an
infiexible devotion to his convictions, great powers of conversation,
and winning amenity of manners, always mingling an elevated piety
with a kindly charity to all other sects. While Maine was a part of
Massachusetts, he exercised great influence in the State: after the sep
aration, he was one of the leading men of this new member of the
Union. He died in 1849,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 503
marks of deference and respect. Since I have known
their history, I have ascertained the secret.*
One of the oldest, and in some respects the most re-
* The other members from Massachusetts were all eminent for their
virtues and their talents.
Pew names in our history are more honorably remembered than that
of Nathan Dane. He was a native of Ipswich, Massachusetts, born in
1754. He was a lawyer of groat eminence, and a statesman of distin
guished patriotism and wisdom. He was a member of Congress under
the Confederation, and was the framer of the famed ordinances of
1787, for the government of the territory of the United States north
west of the Ohio river; an admirable code of law, by which the prin
ciples of free government, to the exclusion of slavery, were extended
to an immense region, and its political and moral interests secured on
a permanent basis. He published some useful works, and founded
a professorship of law in Harvard University. His Ufe is a long record
of beneficent works. He died in Feb. 1835.
Timothy Bigelow -was a learned, eloquent, and popular lawyer, born
in 1767, and died in 1821. For more than twenty years he was a member
of the Massachusetts legislature, and for eleven years he was Speaker
of its House of Eepresentatives. His residence was at Medford. Mrs.
Abbott Lawrenoe was one of his daughters.
Joseph Lyman, of Northampton, was born in 1767, and died in 1847.
He was the person associated with Noah Webster and others, in the
first movement for the Hartford Convention, as previously noticed.
He held many Important offices, and enjoyed, in an unbounded degree,
the confldence of the community. He was an eminently dignifled and
handsome man, ofthe old school of manners, and mingling in his coun
tenance and demeanor a certain seriousness, with kindness and conde
scension. He never failed to attend the poUs, and deposited his flfty
ninth ballot the year of his death !
Joshua Thoinas, born 1751, and died 1821, held for many years the
office of Judge of Probate for the county of Plymouth.
Samuel Sumner Wilde, born 1771 and died 1855, was an eminent law
yer, and several years judge of the Supreme Court— the same in which
Parsons, Story, Sedgwick, and Sewall had officiated. He was a man
of unbending integrity, and tho utmost dignity and purity of Ufe. Ho
was the father-in-law of Caleb Cushing— the present Attorney-general
ofthe United States.
George Bliss, born 1764, died 1880, was a distinguished lawyer of
Springfield. He enjoyed in an eminent degree the respect and confi
dence of aU who knew him.
Daniel Waldo was born in 1763 at Boston : he settled at Worcester

504 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
markable member of the Convention, was Mr. West,*
of New Hampshire. I recollect him distinctly, partly
because of his saintly appearance, and partly because
of the terms of affection and respect in which my
uncle spoke of him. He, too, was often at our house,
and devoted himself to mercantile affairs with great success. He ac
quired in a high degree the confidence of the community around him.
He was distinguished for integrity, justice, and punctuality, in all the
affairs of life. He died in 1845.
Thomas Handyside Perkins, born in Boston, 1764, and died in 1854.
He was an eminent merchant of that city, and having amassed a large
fortune, was distinguished for his liberality. Several literary and char
itable institutions owe their existence to hira. In person, he was a large
man, with a grave countenance, but with an expression indicative of his
large and generous heart.
Hodijah Baylies was born in 1757. He served during the Eevolution
ary war, and was at one time aid to General Lincoln, and afterward to
Washington. He held various public offices, and was noted as com
bining, in a high degree, the Christian character with that ofthe gentle
man. He died iu 1843.
The four members from Ehode Island were among the most respect
able citizens of that State.
Daniel Lyraan was a native of Connecticut, born in 1776 and died in
1830. He served through the Eevolutionary war, and rose to the rank
of major. He afterward settled in Ehode Island, became eminent as a
lawyer, and was finally chief-justice of the Suprerae Court of that State.
Samuel Ward, son of Gov. Ward, of that State, was born in  and
died in  . In the Eevolution he was a soldier, and accompanied Ar
nold in his perilous march against Quebec. After the peace he devoted
himself to oommeroe. As a soldier, patriot, and citizen, his character
was without a stain.
Benjamin Hazard was araong the ablest lawyers of his day, enjoying
the highest esteera for his private worth. He was very swarthy, with
long frizzled hair, and 1 particularly noticed him, among the other mem
bers, for the singularity of his appearance. He was often caUed by the
people of his neighborhood "Black Ben." He was born in 1776 and died
in 1841. Hc was elected to the Assembly of Rhode Island sixty-two times I
Edward Manton was a merchant of Johnston, and distinguished for
his probity and moral worth. He was born in 1760 and diod in 1820.
* Benjamin West was a native of Massachusetts, sor of Eev. T.
West, aud born in 1746. He was graduated at Harvard College, studied
law, and setded at Charlestown, N. H., where he died, July 27, 1817

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 505
and seldom have I seen a man who commanded such
ready love and admiration. He was then sixty-eight
years old : his form tall but slender, his hair white,
long, and flowing, his countenance serene, his voice
full of feeling and melody. His appearance indica
ted the finest moral texture ; but when his mind was
turned to a subject of interest, his brow flashed with
tokens of that high intellectual power which distin
guished him. His character and his position were well
displayed in a single passage of his history : " He was
chosen a member of Congress under the old Confedera
tion ; a member of the convention which framed the
Constitution of his adopted State, and a member of
Congress under the Constitution ; he was appointed
Attorney-general and Judge of Probate, and yet all
these offices he refused, owing to his aversion to pub
lic life, and his sincere, unambitious love of domestic
peace and tranquillity." His great abilities, however,
were not hidden in a napkin. He devoted himself to
the practice ofthe law, which he.pursued with eminent
success, for the space of thirty years. It was in the
evening of his days that he accepted his first prom
inent public station, and that was as meraber of the
Hartford Convention. This he did, under a convic
tion that it was a period of great difficulty and dan
ger, and he felt that duty called upon him to sacrifice
his private comfort to public exigencies. Who will
For a full and touching biography of him, see Knapp's Biographical
Sketches of Eminent Lawyers, Statesmen, &c., p. 245.

506 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
believe that man to have been a conspirator, or that
the people who designated him for this place were
traitors ?
As to the Connecticut members ofthe Convention,
I could easily gather up pages of eulogy. There are,
indeed, few such men now ; I am afraid that in this
age of demagogism, there are few who can compre
hend them. I shall, however, present you with brief
delineations of their lives and characters from the
sober records of the historian.
" At the head of the Connecticut delegation stood his honor,
Chauncey Goodrich, whose blanched locks and noble features
had long been conspicuous in the halls of national legislation ; a
gentleman whose character is identified with truth and honor in
all parts of the Union ; a gentleman of whom Albert Gallatin
was wont to say, that when he endeavored to meet the argu
ments of his opponents, he was accustomed to select those of Mr.
Goodrich, as containing the entire strength of all that could be
said upon that side — feeling that if he could answer him, he
could maintain his cause; a man whom Jefferson — no mean
judge of intellectual strength- — used playfully to say, ' That white-
headed senator from Connecticut is by far tbe mosft powerful
opponent I have, to my administration.'
" Next to him was James Hillhouse,* the great financier of tlie
* James Hillhouse was one of the most remarkable raen of his time.
He was born in 1754, entered upon the practice of the law, engaged iu
the Kevolutionary war, became a member of Congress, and was sixteen
years a senator. He possessed an iron frame, and his industry aud de
votion to his duties knew no bounds. He usually slept but four or five
hours in twenty-four. His personal appearance was remarkable. He
was over six feet high, of a large bony frame: his complexion was
swarthy, and his eye black and keen. He vvas thought to have something

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 507
State, who found our School Fund in darkness, and left it in
light ; the scholar and the father, who superintended the early
culture of that poet-boy, and laid the foundation of that bright
and glorious intellect, which in the bowers of ' Sachem's Wood'
saw, as in a vision, the magnificent scenes of Hadad, and re
ceived as guests in western groves, the spirits of oriental oracle
and song ; Hillhouse — the man of taste, who planted the New
Haven elms ; the native American, with Irish blood in his veins
— the man who, like Washington, never told a lie.
"John Treadwell* was the third delegate, whose life was filled
of the Indian in his physiognomy and his walk, and he humorously
favored this idea. He was once challenged by a Southerner, for some"-
thing uttered in debate, in the Senate. He accepted the challenge, but
added, that as the choice of weapons feU to him, he selected tomahawks !
He was full of wit, and it is said that one day, as he was standing on tho
steps of the Capitol with Randolph, a drove of asses chanced to be
going by — these animals being then raised in Connecticut for the South.
"There are some of your constituents !" said Eandolph. "Yes," said
Hillhouse ; " they are going to be schoolmasters in Virginia !" This story
is sometimes told of Uriah Tracey, to whom, perhaps, it really belongs.
Hillhouse always scoffed at the abuse heaped upon the Hartford Con
vention. Several years after the meeting of this body, he had some busi
ness at Boston, which required several advertisements in a newspaper.
These he had inserted in tbe Patriot — a democratic paper, which had
been furious against the Convention. When he went to pay the biU,
he desired to see the editor. Being introduced to him, he said—" Sir,
ray name is Hillhouse, and I was a raember of the Hartford Conven
tion. You inserted the names of the members for several years, and
promised to keep them in eternal remeiu brance. I am very proud of
having been a ra^nber of that body, and feel that I owe you a debt of
gratitude. So I have selected your paper as the object of ray patronage.
T owe you sixteen dollars and sixty-seven cents, and there, sir, is the
money. I have to remark, however, that for several years you have
neglected your promise to keep us before the world." This led to a
hearty laugh, and the two gentlemen parted. The history of Connecti
cut is full of this man's good works. lie died in 1832.
* John TreadweU, of Farmington, was born in 1745, and died in 1823.
Pie studied law, and afterward was employed for thirty years in public
stations, rising finally to the office of Governor of the State. He was a
man of learning, and received the title of LL.D. from Yale CoUege. He
was distinguished as a consistent professor of religion, and a flrm sup
porter of its interests. He was the flrst President of the A merican For-

508 LETTEES— BIOGEAPHICAL,
with honors and usefulness." He was then on the verge of
threescore and ten, and the oldest man in the Convention.
"The fourth was Chief-justice SviJift,* the first commentator
upon the laws of our little republic, of whom no lawyer iu the
United States would dare to feign ignorance, lest he should put
at risk his profe.ssional reputation.
"Nathaniel Sraith was the fifth, whom the God of nature
chartered to be great by the divine prerogative of genius ; a
jurist wiser than the books; whose words were so loaded with
convincing reasons that they struck an adversary to the earth
like blows dealt by a hand gauntleted in steel ; to listen to
whom, when he spoke in the Convention, Harrison Gray Otis
turned back as he was leaving the chamber, and stood gazing in
silent admiration, unconscious of the flight of time.
" The sixth was Calvin Goddard,! who long enjoyed the repu-
eign Missionary Society, and foi thirty years was deacon of the church
^thus mingling the humble with the higler offices of life, and dis
charging the duties of each with the most exemplary ^delity. In per
son, he was short and bulbous about the waist, with a certain air of
importance in his face and carriage. Some little weaknesses can be for
given in oue whose life is so full of honors.
* Zephaniah Swift was born in 1759 ; having been a member of Con
gress, he accompanied OUver Ellsworth, ambassador to France in 1798,
as his secretary. In 1801 he was appointed judge ofthe Superior Court,
and was chief-justice frora 1806 to 1819. He was a large man, of strong
manly features ; iu conversation he spoke rapidly, without grace of man
ner or expression, but with force and perspicuity. His mind was emi
nently fitted for juridical duties. Hft died while on a visit to Ohio in 1823.
T Calvin Goddard waa born 1768, and died 1842. ^ He filled various
public offices, and was mayor of Norwich for seventeen years. It is
difficult to say which predominated, his learning, his wit, or his ame
nity. I chanced to be with him and Gen. Terry in the stage-coach from
New Haven to New York, when, in Febuary, 1815, they were proceed
ing to Washington, to carry the proceedings of the Convention. Gen.
Terry slept nearly all the way, nor could Mr. Goddard's ceaseless wit
arouse him. When they got to Washington, the news of peace had
just arrived, and their " occupation was gone." They experienced some
¦gibes, but it is said that Goddard paid back with compound interest.
No man was more competent.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 509
tation of being the most learned and successful lawyer east ol
the Connecticut river : an upright judge, a wise counselor, an
honest man.
" Last, but not least of the Connecticut delegation, wa= Roger
Minot Sherman,* a profound metaphysician, a scholar equ.al to
the younger Adams, one of the principal oracles of the New
York city bar for the last twenty years of his life, who seeraed
more fitly than any other man to represent the lawgiver, Roger
Ludlow, and to inhabit the town which he had planted, whose
level acres he had sown with the quick seeds of civil hberty, and
then left the up-springing crop to be harvested by the sickle of
his successor."
This is the verdict — not of the apologist, not of
the partisan — but of the historian, in a sober review
of the past, with all the light which tirae has thrown

* Eoger Minot Sherman, nephew of the celebrated Eoger Sherman,
was a native of Woburn, Mass., and boru in 1773. He established
himself as a lawyer at Fairfield, Conn., and rose to the first rank of his
profession. He was distinguished for acute logical powers, and great
elegance of diction — words and sentences seeming to fiow from his lips
as if he were reading from the Spectator. He was a man of refined per
sonal appearance and manners ; tall, and stooping a little in his walk ;
deliberate in his raoveraents and speech, indicating circumspection,
which was one of his characteristics. His countenance was pale and
thoughtful, his eye remarkable for a keen, penetrating expression.
Though a man of grave general aspect, he was not destitute of humor.
He was once traveling in Western Virginia, and stopping at a small tav
ern, was beset with questions by the landlord, as to where he came frora,
whither he was going, &o. At last said Mr. Sherman — "Sit down, sir,-
and I will teU you all about it." The landlord sat down. "Sir," said
he, " I am from the Blue Light State of Connecticut !" The landlord
stared. " I ara deacon in a Calvinistic church." The landlord was evi
dently shocked. "I was a raember of the Hartford Convention!" This
was too much for the democratic nerves of the landlord ; he speedUy
departed, and left his lodger to himself Mr. Sherman fiUed various
offices, and in 1840, became judge of the Superior Court. To a mind at
once briUiant and profound, he added the einbellishments of Uterature
and science and the graces of Christianity. He died Deo. SO, 1 844.

510 LETTEES — ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
njion the lives of those whom he thus character
izes.* And now, my dear C . . . ., let me ask you to look
at the Hartford Convention, through these Connec
ticut delegates — all .grave and reverend seigniors —
one of them sixty-nine years of age, and having been
governor of the State ; one of them, at the time,
chief-justice of the State ; another a judge of the Su
perior Court ; two of them grown gray in the Senate
of the United States : all past fifty, all distinguished
for prudence, caution, sobriety ; all of the Washington
school in politics, morals, manners, religion. Look at
these raen, and then tell me if there was treason, con
spiracy, dismeraberraent of the Union, either in their
hearts, or the hearts of the people who elected thera ?
If there be any thing holy in truth, any thing sacred
in justice, degrade not the one, desecrate not the
other, by calling these men traitors! Say rather
that their presence in the Hartford Convention is
proof — clear, conclusive, undeniable, in the utter
absence of all evidence to the contrary — that it was
an assembly of patriots, chosen by a patriotic people,
wisely seeking the best good of the country. If this
be not so, then there is no value in a good name, no
ground for faith in human virtue. Treason is the
highest crirae against society : is there not soraething
p,hocking to the universal sense of decency in char
'* HoUister'a History of Connecticut, vol. Ii. p. 303.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 511
ging this upon men thus signalized for their virtues ?
Such perverse logic Avould make Judas a saint, and
the eleven true disciples, betrayers.
But I must leave discussion, and proceed with my
narrative. As the Convention sat with closed doors,
the world without, despite their eager curiosity, were
kept in general ignorance as to their proceedings.
There was a rumor, however, that Mr. Otis opened
the debate, and was followed, first by Chauncey Good
rich and then by Nathaniel Smith — the latter raaking
one of those masterly speeches for which he was re
nowned, and which shook even this assembly of great
men with emotions of surprise and admiration. The
first day's debate was said to have brought all minds
to a general agreement as to the course to be adopted
— that of mild and healing measures, calculated to
appease the irritated minds of their constituents, to
admonish the national government of the general feel
ing of danger and grievance, and thus to save the
country from an example either of popular outbreak
or organized resistance to the laws. Subsequent
events showed that these rumors were well founded.
While such was the course of things in the Con
vention, some curious scenes transpired without and
around it. I cannot do better, in order to give you
an idea of these, than to transcribe part of a letter,
which I recently received from a friend in Hartford,
to whom I had written for some details, to refresh
and confirm my own recollections. This was hastily
Vol. il— 3

513 LETTEES^BIOGEAPHICAL,
written, and with no idea of its publication ; but it
is, nevertheless, graphic, and coming from an old
democrat, will be received as good authority for the
facts it presents, even by the contemners ofthe Con
vention and its federal supporters.
" Previous to the war, Captain Morgan recruited in Hartford
a company of light dragoons. Elijah Boardman was his lieu
tenant, and Owen Eanson — afterward Major Ranson — was cor
net. When war was declared, and an army was to he raised,
the flrst thing was to appoint officers, and the reapeetahles —
that is, the federalists — being to a man opposed to the war, none
of them applied for commissions; so that the administration
was compelled — nothing loth — ^to officer the army from the dem
ocrats. Having a great number of appointments to make, and
little time to examine the qualifications of the applicants, and, as
lhave remarked, having only the democrats to select from, many
men received commissions who were hardly qualffied to carry a
musket in the ranks. Among the appointments was a general
of brigade in the Vermont militia — Jonas Cutting, a boatman
on the Connecticut river. — who obtained his appointment of
colonel through the influence of J. and E. L . . . ., good demo
crats, for whom he boated. He was ordered to Hartford on
recruiting service, where he established the head-quarters of tha
25th regiment. He was a rude, boorish, uncouth man, and re
ceived but little attention from tlie citizens generally, and nont
from tbe respectables — the federalists : he was, however, suc
cessful in raising recruits. After a tirae he was sent to the lines,
and was succeeded by Lieutenant-colonel Jos. L. Smith, of Ber
lin — a large, handsome man, of some talents, but a good deal
of a fire-eater. He assumed the command at Hartford, but was
not kindly received hy the federalists. There was in fact no
love lo.st between him and them.
" This brings us near the time of the Hartford Convention

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 513
the winter of 1814, preparatory to another campaign on the
frontier. A very considerable force of regular troops were in
cantonment in Hartford. The federalists, who were a large
majority, as you know, hated the democrats, denounced the
war, and detested the troops generally, and Lieutenant-colonel
Smith in particular — for he thought it a part of his duty to make
himself as odious to them as possible. His recruiting parties were
constantly parading the city, and monopolizing the sidew.alks,
in all the pomp and circumstance of glorious war. With gun,
drum, trumppt, blunderbuss, and thunder, they crowded the
ladies into the gutters, frightened horses, and annoyed the cit
izens. Some of them called on Colonel Smith, as the com
manding officer, and begged of him, as a gentleman, to keep his
recruiting parties from Main-street — our principal avenue. I
need not say that by this time an intensely bitter feeling had
grown up between the two political parties, and the democrats
were overjoyed that Colonel S. took pains to show his hatred
and contempt for the anti-war party, and so they encouraged
him to persevere, and do his duty by fiouting the feds, and in
raising recruits for the glorious war. So the more the citizens
requested him to desist, the more he would not.
" In this state of things, the city council assembled, and pass
ed and published an ordinance that no military parties should
be permitted to march on the sidewalks, but should confine them
selves to the streets. The democrats and Col. S. scouted the idea
that the council had the power to regulate the march of United
States troops, and so the troops persisted in this annoyance.
The Governor's Foot Guard, one hundred muskets strong, com
posed of our most respectable young men, and all federalists,
commanded by Nathaniel Terry, Esq., now prepared a quantity
of ball cartridges, which, with their arms, were deposited in
the old Hartford Bank. The men were required to be always
ready to act when necessary. The government recruits not
heeding the ordinance, Capt. Boardman and some other officers
and non-commissioned officers were arrested and imprisoned.

514 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
The United States troops, reinforced by all the out parties in
the neighboring towns, now came into the city, and completely
monopolized the streets by night and by day.
" The Superior Court was in session at this time, and each day
during the session, the military bands, with divers supernume
rary bass-drums, incessantly marched around the Courthouse
with so much din that the court was obliged to adjourn. This
was repeated daily, and matters had arrived at a terrible pass,
when the administration at Washington saw the necessity of inter
fering. It was obvious that tbe difficulty arose chiefly from the
impertinence and vulgarity of the army officers ; so they ordered
Colonel Jessup to come to Hartford and assume the command,
and packed off Smith to the lines or somewhere else.
" Colonel Jesup on his arrival called at once on Chauncey
Goodrich, the mayor, and begged him to let him know how
matters stood. Jesup was a man of sense and a gentleman,
and all difficulties speedily vanished. The troops were kept in
their cantonments, a certain distance out of town ; and only a
few at a time, of the most orderly, were permitted to come into
the city, and without military parade. Colonel Jesnp was re
ceived into society, and caressed by the hetter class of citizens,
and became a great favorite. He was dined and tea'd to his
heart's content by the federalists, after which the democracy
rather cut him. So ended this little war.
" The celebrated Hartford Convention assembled here about
this time, and Mr. Thomas Bull, a large, portly, courtly old gen
tleman, was the doorkeeper and messenger. As it was proper
that this dignified body should have all things done decently and
in order, Mr. Bull was directed to call on the reverend clergy,
in turn, to pray with the Convention. Dr. Strong made tho
first prayer, and Dr. Perkins and other eminent clergymen
foUowed. The Rev. Philander Chase* — afterward Bishop Chase
* Philander Chase was a native of Vermont, born 1775, and died 1852.
He was a man of imposing personal appearance and manners. He be
came bishop of Ohio in 1819, and afterward was elected bishop of Illinois.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. ol5
—was at this time rector of Christ Church— a high Church
man, who probably never in aU his ministry offered an extem
poraneous prayer. He was, in his turn, called on by Mr. Bull,
who in his blandest manner informed him. of the honor conferred
on him, and begged his attendance to pray at the opening of the
morning session. What must have been his horror, when Mr.
Chase declined, saying that he knew of no form of prayer for
rebellion ! Mr. Chase himself related this anecdote to me soon
after. Major J. M. Goodwin was present and heard it. Never
theless, I believe this speech was hardly original : some of the
tory Episcopal clergymen had said the same thing during the
Eevolution. They had forms of prayer for the king, but none
for liberty.
" No annoyance was offered to the Convention. A body of
United States troops, under command of Jemmy Lamb, a face
tious old Irishman, and the town-crier, in a fantastic mihtary
dress, marched around the State-house, while they were in ses
sion — the music playing the ' Rogues' March.' The Convention,
however, excited less attention in Hartford than in other places.
' 'Tis distance lends enchantment,' &c. Very little more notice
was taken of their proceedings by the people here — exclusive of
violent partisans — than of those of the Superior Court."
This sketch gives a clear insight into the state of
popular feeling at this period, in Hartford, which has
been the theme of much discussion and gross mis
representation. It i^ obvious that, had there been
no other reason for it, the danger of intrusion and
interruption from the irritated United States recruits,
led by incendiary officers and encouraged by reckless
mischief-makers, rendered it a matter of prudence for
the Convention to sit with closed doors. The State
court had been braved and insulted, and the far more

516 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
obnoxious Convention would doubtless have expe
rienced still more emphatic demonstrations of rude
ness. Had the sessions been open, a guard of a hun
dred men would scarcely have protected them from
interruption, perhaps violence.
It is creditable to all parties that Col. Jesup was
sent thither : it showed a disposition on the part of
the administration to afford no ground of offense ;
it proved that the citizens — the federalists — sought
no quarrel, and would interpose no difiiculties to
the government troops- or their officers in the lawful
discharge of their duties. It showed, raoreover, that
they could appreciate gentleraanly qualities, and were
ready to bestow honor on a gallant soldier who had
fought and bled in battle for the country, even al
though they disapproved of the war.
As to Colonel Jesup*— Brigadier-general Jesup
now — I must say a few words. At the time I speak
of he was some thirty years old. He had recently
come from the northern frontier, where he had wou
laurels by the side of Scott, Miller, Brown, Ripley,
and other gallant soldiers. He was of modest demea
nor, pleasing address, and gentleraanly tastes : it was
no disparagement to his agreeable appearance that he
* Thomas S. Jesup was a native of Virginia, and holding the rank of
Major, distinguished hiraself at Chippewa, Niagara, &c., during the
campaign of 1814. WhUe he was at Hartford, in the winter of 1814-15,
there was a public hall, in which I was one of the managers. I recol
lect that he was present, and was dressed in blue undress military coat
with epaulettes, white small-clothes, and white silk-stockings, and waa
<)uite a favorite with the ladies— a proper homage to the brave.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 517
had his arm in a sling — a touching testimonial of his
merits brought from the field of battle. He was the
complete antipode of the J. L. Smiths and Joseph
Cuttings who had preceded him, and who thought
it a part of their democratic duty to be conspicuously
vulgar. He did not seek to promote democracy by
rendering it disgusting to all who held opposite opin
ions. He mingled in amicable intercourse with the
citizens ; sought interviews with the leading inhabit
ants — with the mayor of the city, and the governor of
the state when he chanced to be on a visit there. I
know he took counsel with my uncle and became ac
quainted with members of the Convention, and thus
found means not only to smooth away the difficulties
which had been engendered by his rude and reck
less predecessors in the military command of that
station, but gained correct information as to the ac
tual state of things.
It was perfectly well understood, at this time, that
he was not only a military officer, but that he was
the diplomatic agent of the government at Washing
ton, and communicated his observations to the Exec
utive. He was not, for this reason, either shunned or
depreciated. It is evident, from his letters sent almost
daily to Madison — and the substance' of which has
transpired, at least in part — that the real intentions of
the Convention were penetrated by him almost from
^he beginning. It is evident that he never found the
lightest proof of treasonable intentions on the part

518 LETTEES  BIOGEAl'HICAL,
of that assembly.* It has been reported that he in
tends publishing his personal memoirs, and that in
these he will give some interesting revelations re
specting the Convention : I trust he will fulfill his
design, and I ara equally confident that his report
will be in unison with the views I have here pre
sented. Asa raatter of principle — regarding it from
his point of view — he will doubtless condemn that
* Mr. Ingersoll, in his history of the " Late War," professes to report
the substance of Jesup's letters to the President; in one of these he
says, among other things, that after an interview which he had with
Gov. Tompkins, of New York, on his way to Hartford, he thinks the
" Convention will complain, remonstrate, and probably address the peo
ple, but that its proceedings will neither result in an attempt to sunder
the Union, nor in a determination to resist by force the measures of the
general government."
This is sensible. Thus Col. Jesup, even before he reached Hartford,
had discovered the actual state of things in New England. I can testify
that, living in the very midst of the members ofthe Convention, I never
heard such a thing as disunion advocated, or even suggested, as proba
ble or possible. In confirmation of this, Mr. Ingersoll adds :
" Colonel Jesup soon ascertained tliat the Connecticut members of the
Convention were opposed to disunion, to d'lsorder j that every throb of the
people's heart was American," &c., &a. Surely no sensible man needed
a ghost to tell him that ; and yet, strange to say, there are persons who
still beUeve that the Convention, pushed on by the people of New Eng
land, were a band of traitors, at least in their hearts 1
Mr. Ingersoll states that one member of the Convention — Chauncey
Goodrich — listened favorably to Jesup's counterplot, which was, that
New England should put her shoulder to the war, capture Halifax and the
adjacent territories, and these, with Canada, should be annexed to New
England ! That the ardent young lieutenant-colonel should have made
suoh a suggestion, is very possible, but those who knew the parties, will
smile at the idea that a scheme so utterly preposterous — so hopeless
in the actual state of the country, so opposed to public sentiment, so
certain to protract and aggravate the war — should have been entertained
for a moment by the far-sighted person to whom it was proposed. If
such a plot was ever seriously suggested, it was no doubt respectfully
listened to as a matter of courtesy, but in no other sense could it have
been received.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 519
assembly, but as to matters of fact, I am certain he
will never furnish the slightest support to the charge
of treason, either secret or open.
But I must draw this long letter to a close. The
result of the Hartford Convention is well known.
After a session ofthree weeks, it terminated its labors,
and, in perfect conformity with public expectation and
public sentiment at the North, it issued an address,
full of loyalty to the Constitution, recommending
patience to the people, and while admitting theii
grievances, still only suggesting peaceable and con
stitutional remedies. The authors of this document
knew. well the community for which it was intended :
their purpose was to allay anxiety, to appease irrita
tion, t'o draw off in harmless channels the lightning
of public indignation. They therefore pointed out
modes of relief in the direction of peace, and not in
the direction of civil war. They were federalists, as
were the people who supported them ; they belonged
to that party who founded the Constitution, in oppo
sition to the democracy.* Leaving it for democracy,
which opposed the Constitution in its cradle, to fur-
* The sincere seeker for truth should read the history of the parties
of this period, in connection with their previous annals. " It is a re
markable fact," says Noah Webster, in his history of poUtical parties in
the United States, " that the deraocratic party, with few or no excep
tions, opposed the ratification of the Constitution ; and beyond a ques
tion, had that opposition succeeded, anarchy or civil Avar would have
been the consequence. The federalists made the form of government,
and with immense efforts procured it to be ratified, in opposition to
nearly one-half of the citizens of the United States, headed by some of
thc ablest men in the Union."

530 LEITEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
nish the first examples of Nullification, Disunion, Se
cession — with a discretion and a patriotisra which
does thera infinite credit — they found the means of
removing the cloud from the minds of their constit
uents, and yet without in any degree shaking the pil
lars of the Union, which was their ark of the cove
nant of national honor and glory and prosperity.
It is said Mr. Madison laughed when he heard the
result : it is very likely, for he had really feared that
the Convention meditated treason ; he perhaps felt a
little uneasy in his conscience, from a conviction that
his administration had afforded serious grounds for
discontent. He, as well as those who shared his views,
were no doubt relieved, when they found the cloud
had passed. Sorae of the democratic editors satisfied
theraselves with squibs, and some found relief in
railing. Those especially who had insisted that the
Convention was a band of traitors, seemed to feel
personally affronted that it did not fulfill their evil
prophecies. There is perhaps no greater offense to
a partisan who has predicted evil of his adversary,
than for the latter to do what is right, and thus turn
the railer into ridicule. At all events, so bitter was
the disappointment of the fanatical portion of the
deraocrats, on the occasion in question, that they
sought relief in declaring that if the Convention did
not act treason, they at least felt it ! Perhaps in
consideration of their disappointraent, we may pass
over this obliquity as one of those frailties of hu-

521
man nature, which time teaches us to forget and for
give. As to the general effect of the course adopted by
the Convention, no reasonable man can deny that it
was eminently salutary. It iraraediately appeased
the irritation and anxiety of the public mind in New
England ; it taught the people the propriety of calm
and prudent measures in times of difficulty and dan
ger ; and more than all, it set an example worthy of
being followed for all future time, by holding the
Constitution of the United States as sacred, and by
recommending the people to seek remedies for their
grievances by legal and not by revolutionary means.
" Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall see God."
I know of no similar benediction upon the promoters
of civil war.
And now I have done. The treaty of Ghent
Speedily came to smooth the rufiled waters. Monroe
succeeded to Madison, and an era of good feeling
seemed to dawn upon the country. It is true the
promised millennium was not fully realized : the dy
ing flurries of the old federal party, under the har
pooning of triumphant democracy, caused some froth
upon the sea of politics. Connecticut passed through
the spasms of Toleration, in which that hard old
federalist, Oliver Wolcott, becarae the candidate of
democracy, and overturned the- Charter of Charles II.,
and with it all his early political associations — public
and personal. It was a strange dance, and with a

623 LETTEES — ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
curious arrangement of partners. Similar movements
took place in other parts of the country — the result
of which was, a new crystallization of parties, in which
the terms federalist and democrat lost their original
signification. I have before adverted to this fact, and
have stated that — in application to present parties —
they are little more than names to discriminate be
tween conservatives and radicals.
I have thus deemed it due to truth, in giving ray
recollections of the war, to give them frankly and
fearlessly. Believing the old federalists — especially
those of Connecticut, for with them my acquaint
ance way personal — to have been honest and patri
otic, as. I knew them to be virtuous and wise, so
I havQ said, and given ray reasons for the faith
that is in rae. While doing thera this justice, I
do not aifirm that in all things their measures were
right. I contend, however, that they were tiue
men, and, on the whole, have left memories behind
thera which every dictate of virtue and patriotism
teaches us to cherish. By the side of their oppo
nents — -and the Yery best of thera — they may claim
at least equal respect. As tirae advances and the
mists of party are cleared from the horizon, I doubt
not their images will be seen and recognized by all,
as rising higher and higher among the nobler monu
ments of our history. One truth will stand — they
were of those who reared the glorious fabric of the
Union, and under all circumstances taught the peo-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 533
pie to regard it as sacred. Before any man presumes
to call them traitors, let him see that his own hands
are equally pure, his own spirit equally exalted.

LETTER XXXII.
The Ccunt Value — Lessons im. French, and a Translation of Rene — Severe
Retribution for Imprudence — The End of the Pocket-book Factory —
Napoleon returns to Paris and upsets my Affairs — D'lvers Experiences
and Reflections upon Dancing — Visit to New York — Olmer Wolcott and
Archibald Graeie — Ballston and Saratoga — Dr. Payson a7id the three
Rowdies — Illness and Death of my Uncle — Partnership with George
Sheldon — His Illness and Death.
My dear C ***** *
I must now go back and take up a few dropped
stitches in my narrative. I have told you that my
apprenticeship terminated in the sumraer of 1814.
Previous to that tirae, I had raade some advances in
the study of the French language under M. Value,
or, to give him his title, the Count Value. This per
son had spent his early life in Paris, but he afterward
migrated to St. Domingo, where he owned a large
estate. In the insurrection of 1794, he escaped only
with his life. With admirable cheerfulness and se
renity, he devoted himself to teaching French and
dancing, as means of support. He settled for a
time at New Haven, where, at the age of seventy, he '
was captivated and captured by a tall, red-haired
schoolmistress of twenty. She accounted to me, for

524 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
her success, by stating that, at the time, she was
called the " Rose of Sharon" — she being a native of
a town in Litchfield county bearing the latter name.
The Count finally established himself at Hartford,
and I became one of his pupils. I pursued my
studies with considerable assiduity, and to practice
myself in French, I translated Chateaubriand's Rene.
One of my friends had just established a newspaper
at Middletown, and my translation was published
there. About this time my health was feeble, and
my eyes became seriously affected in consequence
of my night studies. Unaware of the danger, I per
severed, and thus laid the foundation of a nervous
weakness and irritability of my eyes, which has since
been to me a rock ahead in the whole voyage of life.
From that tirae, I have never been able to read or
write, but with pain. As if by a kind of fatality, I
seeraed to be afterward drawn into a literary career,
for which I was doubly disqualified — first, by an im
perfect education, and next, by defective eyesight.
Oh ! what penalties have I paid for thus persisting
in a course which seems to have been forbidden to
me by Providence. After a long and laborious life,
I feel a profound consciousness that I have done noth
ing well ; at the same time, days, months, nay years,
have I struggled with the constant apprehension that
I should terminate my career in blindness ! How
little do we know, especially in the outset of our ex
istence, what is before us ! It is indeed well that we

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 635
do not know, for the prospect would often over-
whelm us.
In the autumn of 1814, as already stated, I estab
lished, in company with a friend, a pocket-book fac
tory at Hartford ; but the peace put a speedy termina
tion to that enterprise. We got out of it with a small
loss, and my kind-hearted partner pocketed this, "for
he had money, and I had none." He forgave me,
and would have done the same, had the defalcation
been more considerable — for he was a true friend.
Early in the following spring, I made an arrange
ment to go to Paris as a clerk in a branch of the im
porting house of Richards, Taylor & Wilder, of New
York. About a month after, the news came that Bo
naparte had suddenly returned frora Elba, and as busi
ness was prostrated by that event, my engagement
failed. For nearly a year, ray health continued indiffer
ent, and ray eyes in such a state that I was incapable of
undartaking any serious business. I spent my tirae
partly at Berlin,* with my parents, and partly at Hart-

* I have already said that my father, having asked a dismission from
his parochial charge at Eidgefield, was settled — ISll — in Berlin, eleven
miles south of Hartford. It is a pleasant village, situated on a slight
elevation, rising from a fertile valley, bounded on the south by a range
of raountains. The town embraces three parishes, which, thirty years,
ago, were the principal seat of the tin manufacture, from which the
whole country was long supplied by peddlers. The arts of these be
came proverbial ; not confining themselves to the sale of tin-ware, they
occasionaUy peddled other articles. In the Southern States, it is pre
tended, they palmed off upon the people " wooden nutmegs," " oak-leaf
cigars," &e.
Berlin was the birthplace of Isaac Eiley — a noted bookseller of New
York— forty years ago. He was a man of flne personal address and

536 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
ford. I read a little, and practiced my French with
Value and his scholars. I also felt the need of disci
plining my hands and feet, which about these days
seemed to rae to have acquired a raost absurd develop-
raent — giving me an awful feeling of embarrassment
when I entered into company. I therefore took les
sons in dancing, and whether I profited by it or not,
as to manners, I ara persuaded that this portion of
my education was highly beneficial to me in other
points of view.
As many good people have a prejudice against
dancing, I ara disposed to write down my experience
on the subject. In the winter, our good old teacher
had weekly cotillion parties, forthe purpose of practi
cing his scholars. The young raen invited the young
ladies, and took them to these gatherings, and after
the exercises, conducted thera horae again. I know
this will sound strange to those who only understand
metropolitan manners at the present day ; bujf let
me tell you that I never knew an instance, in my
own experience or observation, in which the strictest
propriety was departed from. These parties took
striking intellectual activity, but was marked with great vicissitudes of
fortune. One of the Berlin peddlers, by the name of B . . . ., chanced
to be at one of Riley's book-auction sales, when he bid off a thousand
copies ofa cheap edition of Young's Night Thoughts. These he ped
dled in the South and West as bad books, getting five dollars apiece for
thera ! When remonstrated with for imposition, he insisted that it was .
a good moral and religious operation !
At the present day. New Britain, one of the parishes of Berlin, 13
noted for extensive brass and iron foundries, and various other manu
factures.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 537
place in the evening: they began at eight o'clock, and
continued till ten or eleven— sometimes till twelve.
The company consisted entirely of young persons 
fiom fifteen to twenty years of age: they included
the children of the respectable inhabitants, with a
number of young ladies from the boarding-schools.
Some of these I have since seen the wives of bish
ops, senators, and governors of States — filling in
deed the first stations to which the sex can aspire in
this country.
I have had enough experience ofthe world to know
that such things could not be in the great cities of
Europe or America — perhaps nowhere out of New
England. The division of society into castes in mo
narchical countries, no doubt involves the necessity
of keeping young ladies jealously aloof from compan
ionship with the other sex, because they might en
tangle themselves in engagements which would de
feat the system of building up families and estates by
politic marriages. In this state of society, it might be
found dangerous for young persons of opposite sexes
to be left even casually together, for a spirit of intrigue
is always indigenous under a system of restraint and
espionage. But however this may be, I am satisfied
that these Hartford, parties, under the auspices oi
our amiable and respectable old teacher, were every
way refining and elevating : not only did they im
part ease of manner, but, as I think, purity of senti
ment. The earlier emotions of youth are delicate.

ggg LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
modest, conservative ; and if acquaintance with life
be made at this period, these stamp their refinements
upon the feelings, and form a safe, conservative basis
of future habits of thought and conduct. I do not
mean to favor latitudinarianism of manners ; I do
not, indeed, say that this systera can be adopted in
large cities, but I believe that dancing parties, con
sisting of young persons of both sexes, under proper
guidance — as, for instance, under the eye of parents,
either in a public hall, or by the domestic fireside —
have a refining infiuence, beneficial alike to manners
and morals. I believe that even public assemblies
for dancing, regulated by the presence of good peo
pie, are eminently useful.
I have been in Catholic countries, where the sys
tem is to keep girls in cloisters, or schools resembling
thera, till they are taken out by their parents or
guardians to be married ; and it is precisely in these
countries, where education is the raost jealous, and
discipline the most rigorous, that intrigue is the great
garae of life — especially with the upper classes — of
both sexes. I have seen society where Puritan ideas
prevailed, and where religious people held dancing
to be a device of the devil ; and here I have often
found that practices, secret or open, quite as excep
tionable as dancing, were current in society. If in
the earlier ages of our New England history, a hard,
self-denying system was profitable, it is not so in the
present state of society. We are created with social

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 639
feelings, which demand indulgence. No system of
religion, no code or contrivance of state policy, has
been able to get over this fact. We can not kill the
voice of God and nature in the soul : we can only
regulate it, and by using common sense and the lights
of religion, give it a safe and beneficent development.
Is it not time for society to cast off prejudice, and to
be governed by truth and experience ? It must be
remembered that what is condemned by the good and
wise, often thereby becomes evil, though in itself it
may be beneficial. Has not this wrong been done
among us ? It seems to. me that good people, pious
people, may at least inquire whether it may not be
well for them to take under their patronage, that
branch of education which proposes at once to per
fect the manners and refine the sentiments of youth.
It is not to dictate, but to aid in this inquiry, that I
give you with some minuteness my observations on
this subject; hence I offer you my testimony to the
fact that in the course of three winters, during which
I attended these cotillion parties at Hartford, I never
saw or heard of an instance of impropriety in word
or deed.
Let me further suggest that there is a principle here
which it is important to recognize and appreciate.
These young people were brought together at a period
when their emotions were still sheltered in the folds
of that sensitive and shrinking modesty, designed to
protect thera at the period of their first adventure

530
into mixed society. This modesty is to the heart of
youth, like the envelope in which nature enshrines
the choicest products of the vegetable kingdom, till
they are ripened and prepared for the harvest. This
shrinking delicacy of feeling is conservative ; to this,
license is offensive, and if suggested, is repelled. If
young people associate together at this period — under
the restraints which necessarily exist in an assembly
such as I am contemplating — habits of delicacy, in
thought and manner, are likely to be established.
A person who has been thus trained, seems to me
armed, in some degree at least, against 'those coarse
seductions which degrade, and at last destroy, so many
young persons of both sexes. To young men, an
early familiarity with the refined portion of the gen
tler sex, placing them at ease in their society and
making this a sort of necessity to them, I conceiye to
be one of the greatest safeguards to their morals and
manners in after life. And as a preparation for this —
as an introduction, an inducement to this — I conceive
that the art of dancing, practiced by young people
of both sexes, together, is to be comraended.
I ara aware that I am treading upon delicate
ground. You may share the idea entertained by
many good, pious people, that dancing is always de
grading and vicious in its tendencies.- This, however,
I think, arises from considering it in its abuses. I am
not contending for juvenile balls, as a pursuit fit to
absorb the whole thought and attention. , Eemember,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 531
I am speaking of dancing as a part of education — to
be conducted with propriety — in order to train young
people of both sexes to habits of easy and delicate
intercourse. As to the practice of dancing, after
ward, this must be regulated by the judgment of
parents. One custom may be proper in one place,
and not in another. In this country, our habits are
different from those of others : in Asia, where woman
is designed for the harem, and in Europe, where she
is trained to be the make- weight of a bargain, jeal
ousy becomes the sentinel of society ; in the United
States, woman is comparatively free, and here confi
dence must be the guardian of society. I am inclined
to think, in this respect, our systera has the advan
tage, provided it be not abused by license on the one
hand, nor bigotry on the other.
In respect to the case I am describing in my early
experience, in which the young gentlemen conducted
the young ladies to and frora the dancing hall — the
confidence of parents, thus reposed in their children,
fortified and recommended by the purer suggestions
of the heart — appealed to motives of honor, and was
usually responded to by scrupulous rectitude of de
meanor. If you doubt the justice of this philosophy,
I ask your attention to the fact that, at this day —
forty years subsequent to the period to which I refer
— in this very city of Hartford, with a population of
twenty thousand people, women, young and old, of
all classes, walk the streets till midnight, with as

533 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
much sense of security and propriety, as at noonday !
Where will you find higher evidence of a refined
state of society than this ?
In the spring of 1S15 I paid a visit to New York,
and having letters of introduction to Oliver Wolcoti
and Archibald Gracie, I called on these gentlemen.
Mr. Wolcott lived in Pine-street, nearly opposite where
the custom-house is now, and at a short distance was
John Wells, an eminent lawyer of that day. But a
considerable number of the higher aristocracy was
gathered toward the lower part of the city, the Battery
being pretty nearly the focus of fashion. Streets now
desecrated by the odor oftar and turpentine, were then
filled with the flush and the fair. Nath'l Prime lived
at No. 1 Broadway; Mr. Gracie in the Octagon House,
corner of Bridge and State streets. Near by was his
son-in-law, Charles King, now president of Columbia
College, and his son, Wm. Gracie, who had married the
second daughter of Oliver Wolcott. In this quarter,
also, were Wm. Bayard, Gen. Morton, Matthew Clark
son, J. B. Coles, Moses Rogers, &c., all eminent citizens
My lodgings were at the City Hotel, situated od
the western side of Broadway, between Thames and
Cedar streets — the space being now occupied by ware
houses. It was then the Astor House of New York,
being kept by a model landlord, whose name was
Jennings, with a model barkeeper by the name of
Willard. The latter was said never to sleep — night
or day — for at all hours he was at his post, and never

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 533
forgot a customer, even after an absence of twenty
years. It was late in the spring, and Mr. Gracie called for
me and took me to his country-seat, occupying a
little promontory on the western side of Hurlgate — a
charming spot, now cut up into some thirty city lots.
Contiguous to it, toward the city, were the summer
residences of J. J. Astor, Nathaniel Prime, and Wm-
Rhinelander; on the other side were the seats of Com
modore Chauncey, Joshua Jones, and others.
Here I spent a fortnight very agreeably. Mr. Gra
cie was at this period distinguished alike on account
of his wealth, his intelligence, and his amiable and
honorable character. Never have I witnessed any
thing more charming — more affectionate, dignified,
and graceful — than the intercourse of the faraily with
one another. The sons and daughters, raost of them
happily connected in marriage — as they gathered here
— seemed, to my unpracticed imagination, to consti
tute a sort of dynasty, something like the romance of
the middle ages. Not many years after, Mr. Gracie
lost his entire fortune by the vicissitudes of com
merce, but his character was beyond the reach ol
accident. He is still remembered with affectionate-
respect by all those whose memories reach back to
the times in which he flourished, and when it might
be said, without disparagement to any other man,
that he was the first merchant in New York.
I must not omit to mention two other celebrities

534 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
whom I saw during this visit to New York. You
must recollect I was on ray travels, and so, as in duty
bound, I sought to see the lions. Of course I went
to the court-house, and there I saw two remarkable
men — Judge Kent, and Thomas Addis Emmet — the
first, chancellor of the State of New York, and the
latter one of the most eminent lawyers in the city,
perhaps in the United States.
Judge Kent* I had seen before, at my uncle's
house. He had been educated at Yale College, was
my father's classmate, and forraed an early acquaint
ance with our faraily, resulting in a friendly inter
course which was maintained throughout his whole
life. It would be difficult now to point to a man so
universally honored and esteemed. To the raost ex
tensive learning, he added a winning simplicity of
manners and transparent truthfulness of character.
All this was written in his countenance, at once irre
sistible by its beaming intelligence, and its not less
impressive benevolence. The greatness and good
ness of his character shone full in his face.
I remeraber perfectly well the scene, when I saw
Emmetf and the judge together. The former was

* James Kent was born in Putnam county, N. Y., 1763. He rose to
eminence in the profession ofthe law, and was appointed by John Jay,
then governor, judge of the suprerae court. He was afterward chief-
justice, and, in 1S14, chancellor. He died in New York, which had
been his residence, in 1847 — an ornament to human nature, to the bar,
the bench, and the Christian profession.
+ Thomas Addis Emmet, a native of Cork, in Ireland, was born in
1764. He was one of the Committee ofthe Society of United Irishmen,

535
arguing a case, but there were only half a dozen per
sons present, and it was rather a, conversation than a
plea. Emmet was a somewhat short but very athletic
man, with large, rosy cheeks, an enormous mouth,
and full, expressive eyes. His Irish brogue, rich and
sonorous, rolled from his lips like a cataract of music.
Kent listened, but frequently changed position, and
often broke into the argument with a question, which
sometimes resulted in a dialogue. His whole manner
was easy, familiar, and very different from the statue
like dignity of other judges I had seen. The whole
spectacle left on my mind the impression that two
great men were rather consulting together, than that
one was attempting to win from the other an opinion
to suit an interesied client. I recollect to have seen,
listening to this discussion, a large, florid, handsome
man, with a dark, eloquent eye ; I inquired his name,
and was told that it was John Wells, the renowned
lawyer, already mentioned.
As I thus saw the lions of the town, I also heard
the thunderers of the pulpit. On one occasion I lis
tened to a discourse from Dr. J. B. Romeyn* — a tall,
thin, eloquent man — I think in Cedar-street. He was
celebrated in his day ; and, if I understood him cor-

and was involved in the unfortunate rebellion of 1798. Mr. Emmet was
imprisoned, but was finally set free, and came to the United States. Hia
great learning, his extraordinary talents, his powerful eloquence, soon
gave him a place among the first lawyers ofthe country. He died in 1827.
* John B. Eomeyn was settled first at Ehinebeok, then at Scheueo-
tady, and finally at New York. He was born in 1769, and died 1825.

536 LETTEES  BIOG:eAPHICAL,
rectly, he maintained the doctrine of election in suc]\
rigor as to declare that if he knew who the elect were,
he would preach only to them, inasmuch as it would
be useless to preach to other persons !
In a new church in Murray-street, I heard Dr.
Mason,* then regarded as the Boanerges of the city.
Instead of a pulpit — which serves as a sort of shelter
and defense for the preacher — he had only a little
railing along the edge of the platform on which he
stood, so as to show his large and handsome person,
almost down to his shoe-buckles. He preached
without notes, and moved freely about, sometimes
speaking in a colloquial manner, and then suddenly
pouring out sentence after sentence, glowing with
lightning and echoing with thunder. The effect of
these outbursts was sometiraes very startling. The
doctor was not only very imposing in his person, but
his voice was of prodigious volume and compass.
He was sometimes adventurous in his speech, occa
sionally passing off" a joke, and not unfrequently
* John M. Mason, D. D. — son of Dr. John Mason ofthe Scotch Church
— was born in 1770, and died in 1829. He was alike distinguished for
his wit, his intellectual powers, and his eloquence. He was the author
of several religious works of great abihty. I have heard the following
anecdote of him : A certain parishioner of his, after the establishment of
a Unitarian church in New York, joined it. One day, when the Doctor
chanced to raeet him, the former said —
*' Mr. S . . . ., it is some time since I have seen you at Murray-street."
" I have not been there lately, it is true," was the reply — " and I wiU
tell you the reason. I think you make religion too difficult; I prefer
rather to travel on a turnpike, than on a rough and thorny road."
"Yes," said the Doctor; "but you must look out, and see that jott
don't have a Hell ofa toU to pay 1"

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC.

537

verging on what might seem profane, but for the
solemnity of his manner. When I heard hira, in
speaking of some recent Unitarian point of faith, he
said, " This is damnable doctrine — I say it is damna
ble doctrine!" — the deep, guttural emphasis giving to
the repetition a thrilling eflfect.
Early in the ensuing summer, my uncle, Chauncey
Goodrich, being in bad health, paid a visit to Sara
toga* and Ballston for the beuefit of the waters, and
I accompanied him. We soon returned, however, for
* I remember a striking incident which occurred at the hotel in Sara
toga where we lodged. One Sunday morning, as the company sat down
to breakfast at a long table, a sraall, dark, and rather insignificant look
ing minister said grace. As soon as he began, and his voice attracted
notice, most of the persons g.ive respectful attention to his words ; but
three gay young men took pains to signify their superiority to such a
vulgar custom by clashing the knives and forks, calling upon the waiters,
and proceeding to their work. After breakfast, a notice was given to
the lodgers that a serraon would be preached in the dining-hall at 10
o'clock. At this hour the lodgers generally gathered there, and araong
them the three young men — these, however, with a decided Gallic air
and manner. Indeed, it was pretty evident that they had come to qui?
the little parson. The latter soon entered, with a peculiarly noiseless
unostentatious step and deraeanor. He sat down and meditated for n
few minutes, and then rose to pray. The first tones of his voice were
faint, but they grew in strength ; and as we took our seats, all began to
look with strange interest upon the countenance of that Uttle, dark, un
pretending preacher. He read a familiar hymn, but it seemed new aud
striking; he read a familiar chapter in the Bible, "but it had a depth
and meaning not realized before. He took his text, and preached such
a sermon as seldom faUs from the lips of man. Every heart was thrilled,
and even the three young men who came to scoff, remained to pray.
Never have I seen such alternations of feelings as passed over their
countenances — flrst of ridicule, then of astonishment, then of shame,
and at last, of consternation and contrition. "And who is this strange
man — so insignificant in appearance, so seemingly inspired in fact?"
said the people. It was Edward Payson, afterwards D. D., of Portland,
one ofthe raost pious, devoted, and eloquent ministers of his day. Ho
was born at Kindge, in New Hampshire, in 1788, and died in 1827.

538 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
it was now apparent that he had a disease of the heart,
which was rapidly tending to a fatal result. Expe
riencing great suffering at intervals, he gradually
yielded to the progress of his malady, and at last, on
the 18th of August, 1815 — while walking the room,
and engaged in cheerful conversation — he faltered,
sank into a chair, and instantly expired. "His
death," says the historian, "was a shock to the whole
community. Party distinctions were forgotten, un
der a sense of the general calamity ; and in the sim
ple but expressive language which was used at his
funeral, ' all united in a tribute of respect to the man
who had so long been dear to us, and done us so
much good.' " To me, the loss was irreparable —
leaving, however, in my heart a feeling of gratitude
that I had witnessed an example of the highest intel
lectual power united with the greatest moral excel
lence — and that, too, in one whose relationship to me
enforced and commended its teachings to my special
observance. Alas, how little have I done in life that
is worthy of such inspiration !
Not long after this, my friend George Sheldon hav
ing established himself as a bookseller and publisher,
he invited me to become his partner — and this I did,
early in the year 1816. We pursued the business for
nearly two years, during which tirae we published,
among other works, Scott's Faraily Bible, in five
voluraes quarto — a considerable enterprise for that
period, in a place like Hartford. In the autumn of

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 539
1817 I had gone to Berlin, for the purpose of making
a short excursion for the benefit of my health, when a
messenger came from Hartford, saying that my part
ner was very ill, and wished me to return. I imme
diately complied, and on entering the room of my
friend, I found him in a high fever, his mind already
wandering in painful dreams. As I came to his bed
side he said — " Oh, take away these horrid knives ;
they cut me to the heart !" I stooped over him and
said —
" There are no knives here ; you are only dream
ing." "Oh, is it you?" said he. "I am glad you have
come. Do stay with me, and speak to me, so as to
keep off these dreadful fancies."
I did stay by him for four days and nights — but
his doom was sealed. His mind continued in a state
of wild delirium till a few minutes before his death.
I stood gazing at his face, when a sudden change
came over him : the agitated and disturbed look of
insanity had passed — a quiet pallor had come over his
countenance, leaving it calm and peaceful. He open
ed his eyes, and, as if waking from sleep, looked on
me with an aspect of recognition. His lips moved, and
he pronounced the name of his wife ; she came, with
all the feelings of youth and love — aye, and of hope,
too, in her heart. She bent over him : he raised his
feeble and emaciated arms and clasped her to his heart:
be gave her one kiss, and passed to another life I

540 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,

LETTER XXXIII.
The Famine of 1816 and 1817 — Panic in New England — Migrations to
Ohio — T'other Side of Ohio — 'Toleration — Downfall of Federalism — OK-
ver Wolcott and the De7nocracy — Con/necticut upset — The new Constitution
— Gov. Smith and Gov. Wolcott — Litchfield — Uriah Tracey — Frederick
Wolcott — Tapping Reeve — Col. Talmadge — James Gould — J. W. HuKr-
Ur.gton — The Litchfield Centennial Celebration.
Mt deae 0******
I must now ask your attention to several topics
having no connection, except unity of time and place :
the cold seasons of 1816 and 1817, and the conse
quent flood of emigration .from New England to the
West ; the political revolution in Connecticut, which
was wrought in the magic narae of Toleration, and
one or two items of my personal experience.
The summer of 1816 was probably the coldest that
has been known here, in this century. In New Eng
land — from Connecticut to Maine — there were severe
frosts in every month. The crop of Indian corn was
almost entirely cut off : of potatoes, hay, oats, &c.,
there was not probably more than half the usual
supply. The means of averting the effects of such a
calamity — now afforded by railroads, steam naviga,-
tion, canals, and other facilities of intercommunica
tion — ^did not then exist. The following winter was
severe, and the ensuing spring backward. At this
time I made a journey into New Hampshire, pass-

541
ing along the Connecticut river, in the region of
Hanover. It was then June, and the hills were al
most as barren as in November. I saw a man at Or
ford, who had been forty miles for a half bushel of
Indian corn, and paid two dollars for it !
Along the seaboard it was not difficult to obtain a
supply of food, save only that every article was dear.
In the interior it was otherwise : the cattle died for
want of fodder, and many of the inhabitants came
near perishing from starvation. The desolating ef
fects of the war still lingered over the country, and at
last a kind of despair seized upon some of the people.
In the pressure of adversity, raany persons lost their
judgment, and thousands feared or felt that New
England was destined, henceforth, to become a part
of the frigid zone. At the same time, Ohio — with its
rich soil, its mild climate, its inviting prairies — was
opened fully upon the alarmed and anxious vision.
As was natural under the circumstances, a sort of
stampede took place from cold, desolate, worn-out
New England, to this land of promise.
I remember very well the tide of emigration through
Connecticut, on its way to the West, during the sum
mer of 1817. Some persons went in covered wagons — ¦
frequently a family consisting of father, mother, and
nine small children, with one at the breast — some on
foot and some crowded together under the cover, with
kettles, gridirons, feather-beds, crockery, and the fam
ily Bible, Watts' Psalms and Hymns, and Webster's

543 LETTEES  -BIOGEAPHICAL,
Spelling-book — the lares and penates of the house
hold. Others started in ox-carts, and trudged on at
the rate of ten miles a day. In several instances I
saw families on foot — the father and boys taking
turns in dragging along an improvised hand-wagon,
loaded with the wreck of the household goods — occa
sionally giving the mother and baby a ride. Many of
these persons were in a state of poverty, and begged
their way as they went. Some died before they
reached the expected Canaan ; raany perished after
their arrival, frora fatigue and privation ; and others,
from the fever and ague, which was then certain to
attack the new settlers.
It was, I think, in 1818, that I published a small
tract, entitled "T'other side of Ohio" — ^that is, the.
other view, in contrast to the popular notion that it
was the paradise of the world. It was written by
Dr. Hand — a talented young physician of Berlin — ¦
who had made a visit to the West about these days.
It consisted mainly of vivid but painful pictures of
the accidents and incidents attending this wholesale
migration. The roads over the Alleghanies, between
Philadelphia and Pittsburg, were then rude, steep,
and dangerous, and some of the more precipitous
slopes were consequently strewn with the carcases
of wagons, carts, horses, oxen, which had made ship
wreck in their perilous descents. The scenes on
the road — of families gathered at night in miserable
sheds, called taverns — mothers frying, children cry-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 543
ing, fathers swearing — were a mingled comedy and
tragedy of errors. Even when they arrived in their
new homes — along the banks of the Muskingum
or the Scioto — frequently the whole family — father,
mother, children — speedily exchanged the fresh com
plexion and elastic step of their first abodes, for the
sunken cheek and languid movement, which marks
the victim of intermittent fever.
The instances of home-sickness, described by this
vivid sketcher, were touching. Not even the captive
Israelites, who hung their harps upon the willows
along the banks of the Euphrates, wept more bitter
tears, or looked back with more longing to their na
tive homes, than did these exiles from New England
— mourning the land they had left, with its roads,
schools, meeting-houses — its hope, health, and happi
ness ! Two incidents, related by the traveler, I must
mention — though I do it from recollection, as I have
not a copy of the work. He was one day riding in
the woods, apart from the settlements, when he met
a youth, some eighteen years of age, in a hunting-
frock, and with a fowling-piece in his hand. The
two fell into conversation.
" Where are you from ?" said the youth, at last.
" From Connecticut," was the reply.
" That is near the old Bay State ?"
"Yes."
" And have you been there ?"
" To Massachusetts ? Yes, many a time."
4*

544 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
"Let me take your hand, stranger. My mother
was from the Bay State, and brought me here when
I was an infant. I have heard her speak of it. Oh,
it must be a lovely land ! I wish I could see a
meeting-house and a school-house, for she is always
talking about them. And the sea — the sea — oh, if I.
could see that ! Did you ever see it, stranger ?"
" Yes, often."
" What, the real, salt sea — the ocean — with the
ships upon it ?"
" Yes."
" WeU" — said the youth, scarcely able to suppress
his emotion — " if I could see the old Bay State and
the ocean, I should be willing then to die !"
In another instance the traveler raet — somewhere
in the valley of the Scioto — a man from Hartford, by
the name of Bull. He was a severe democrat, and
feeling sorely oppressed with the idea that he was no
better off in Connecticut under federalism than the
Hebrews in Egypt, joined the throng and migrated to
Ohio. He was a man of substance, but his wealth
was of little av.dl in a new country, where all the
comforts and luxuries of civilization were unknown.
" When I left Connecticut," said he, " I was wretch
ed from thinking of the sins of federalism. After I
had got across B3'rara river, which divides that State
from New York, I knelt down and thanked the Lord
for that he had brought rae and mine out of such a
Driest-ridden land. But I've been well punished.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAI., ETC. 545
and I'm now preparing to return ; when I again
cross Byram river, I shall thank God that he has per
mitted me to get back again !"
Mr. Bull did return, and what he hardly anticipa
ted had taken place in his absence : the federal dy
nasty had passed away, and democracy was reigning
in its stead 1 This was effected by a union of all the
dissenting sects — Episcopalians, Methodists, Baptists
¦ — co-operating with the democrats to overthrow the
old and established order of things. Up to this pe
riod, Connecticut had no other constitution than the
colonial charter granted by Charles II. This was a
meager instrument, but long usage had supplied its
deficiencies, and the State had, practically, all the
functions of a complete political organization. It
had begun in Puritanism, and even now, as I have
elsewhere stated — notwithstanding gradual modifica
tions — the old Congregational orthodoxy still held
many privileges, some traditionary -and some statu
tory. Yale College — an institution of the highest
literary standing — had been from the beginning, in
its influence, a religious seminary in the hands of the
Congregational clergy. The State had not only char
tered it, but had endowed and patronized it. And
besides, the statute-book continued to give preference
to this sect, compelling all persons to pay taxes to it,
unless they should declare their adhesion to sorae
other persuasion.
All this was incompatible with ideas and interests

546 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
that had now sprung up in the community. The
Episcopalians had become a large and powerful body,
and though they were generally federalists, they now
clamored — as an offset to the endowments of Yale Col
lege — for a sum of money to lay the foundation of a
" Bishops' Fund." The Methodists and Baptists had
discovered that the preference given to orthodoxy,
was a union of Church and State, and that the whole
administration was but the dark and damning machi
nery of privileged priestcraft. To all these- sources ol
discontent, the democracy added the hostility which
it had ever felt toward federalism — now intensely em
bittered by the aggravations of the war and the Hart
ford Convention.
It was clear that the doom of federalism was at
hand, even in Connecticut. Many things had con
spired to overthrow it in other parts of the country.
Jefferson had saddled it, in the popular mind, with a
tendency to monarchy and a partiality for England —
a burden which it was hard to bear — especially near
the revolutionary period, when the hearts of the peo
ple still beat with gratitude to France and aggravated
hostility to Great Britain. John Adaras, the candidate
of the federalists, gave great strength to this charge
by his conduct, and having thus nearly broken down
his supporters, did what he could to coraplete their de
struction, by at last going over to the enemy. John
Quincy Adams followed in the footsteps of his father.
Washington was early withdrawn from the scene of

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 547
action : Hamilton was shot : Burr proved treacherous
and infamous. The pillars of federalism were shaken,
and at the same time two mighty instruments were at
work for its final overthrow. The great body of the
people had got possession of suffrage, and insisted,
with increasing vehemence, upon the removal of ev
ery impediment to its universality. The conserva
tives, in such a contest, were sure to be at last over
whelmed, and this issue was not long delayed. One
thing more — ^the foreign element in our population,
augmenting every year, was almost wholly democratic.
Democracy in Europe is the watchword of popular
liberty ; the word is in all modern languages, the idea
in all existing masses. This name was now assumed
by the radical or republican party, and to its stand
ard, as a matter of course, the great body of the Euro
pean immigrants — little instructed in our history or
our institutions — spontaneously flocked, by the force
of instinct and prepossession. And still further — as I
have before intimated, nearly all foreigners hate Eng
land, and in this respect they found a ready and active
sympathy with the democratic party — the federalists
being of course charged with the damning sin of love
for that country and its institutions.
To these and other general influences, which had
shattered the federal party in the Southern and Mid
dle States, was now added, in Connecticut, the local
difficulties founded in sectarian discontent. But it is
probable that a revolution could not have been speed-

548 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
ily consummated, but for an adventitious incident.
Oliver Wolcott, who had been one of Washington's
cabinet, and of the strictest sect of federalism, had re
sided some years in New York, where he had acquired
a handsome fortune by commercial pursuits. For a
number of years he had taken no part in politics,
though I believe he had rather given support to the
war. No doubt he disapproved of the course of the
federalists, for I remember that shortly before the
Hartford Convention he was at my uncle's house^ —
the two being brothers-in-law — as I have before sta
ted. In allusion to the coming assembly, I recollect
to have heard him say, interrogatively —
"Well, brother Goodrich, I hope you are not about
to breed any mischief?"
"Sir," said my uncle, somewhat rebukingly, "you
know me too well to make it necessary to ask that
question !"
I recollect at a later period, when he was governor
of Connecticut, to have heard hira speak reproachfully
of both political parties in New York. Said he —
" After living a dozen years in that State, I don't
pretend to comprehend their politics. It is a laby
rinth of wheels within wheels, and is understood only
by the managers. Why, these leaders of the opposite
parties, who — in the papers and before the world —
seem ready to tear each other's eyes out, will meet some
rainy night in a dark entry, and agree, whichever way
the election goes, they will share the spoils together !"

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 549
At all events, about this time Oliver Wolcott re
moved to Litchfield, his native place, and in 1817
was nominated for governor by the malcontents of
all parties, rallying under the name of Toleration.
To show the violent nature of the fusion which uni
ted such contradictory elements into one homogene
ous mass, it may be well to quote here an extract
from a Connecticut democratic organ — the American
Mercury. This paper, with others, had charged Oli
ver Wolcott with burning down the War and Treas
ury Departments at Philadelphia, in order to cover
up the iniquities he had committed while Secretary of
War. The following was its language, Feb. 3, 1801 :
" An evening paper asks the editor for his knowledge : the
editors of that paper, if they will apply to Israel Israel, Esq.,
may have full and perfect knowledge of the accounts published.
To conceal fraud and rob the public; to conceal dilapidation
and plunder, while the public are paying enormous interest for
money to support wicked and unnecessary measures ; to conceal
as much as possible the amount and names of the robbers, and
the plans and evidences of the vilMny — these the editor believes
to have been the true causes of the conflagration. When did it
take place? At the dusk of night, and in the rooms in which
the books were kept, in which were contained the registers of
public imquity!"
A short time after this — February 26 — the same
paper copies ftom the Philadelphia Aurora an article,
of which the following are extracts :
" The Honorable Mr. Wolcott, ex-Secretary of the Treasury,
successor to the virtuous Hamilton and predecessor to the equal-

550 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
!y virtuous Dexter, has lately honored our city with his presence.
Ha-ving done enough for his ungrateful country, he is retiring to
the place from whence he came, to enjoy the otiwm cum digni
tate. It is to be hoped he will have enough of the former, to
afford him an opportunity of nursing what little he has of the
latter. " This representative of Mr. Hamilton was very fortunate in
escaping the federal bonfires at Washington ; even his papers and
private property were pro-Didentially saved — but his fair fame
sustained a slight singeing between the two fires : his friends in
Congress, it is presumed, will pass a vote which shall operate as
a cataplasm to the burn.
" Our federal worthies, justly appreciating the services of this
valuable man, and wisely considering that nothing can afford more
pleasure than eating or drinking, resolved to treat him to a din
ner ; and as it is proper the world should know that Mr. WoLott
had something to eat in Philadelphia, their proceedings on the
occasion, at least suoh parts of them as will bear the hght, are
pubhshed in the federal prints."
Such were the opinions — at least such were the
representations — of the leading democratic organs,
respecting Oliver Wolcott, the federalist, in 1801. In
1817, he was the charapion of the deraocratic party
in Connecticut, and the idol of the American Mer
cury ! What transformations are equal to those which
the history of political parties, for the short space of
twenty years, brings to our view ?
It is needless to tell you in detail what immediately
followed. The struggle was one of the most violent
that was ever witnessed in Connecticut. It was cu
rious as well as violent — for we saw fighting side by
side, shoulder to shoulder, democracy, Methodism,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 651
Episcopacy, Pedobaptism, Universalism, radicalism,
infidehty — all united for the overthrow of federalism
and orthodoxy ; and Oliver Wolcott was the leader in
this onset ! The election took place in April, 1817,
and the federalists were routed, according to the es
tablished phrase, " horse, foot, and dragoons." John
Cotton Smith,* the most popular man in the State,

* John Cotton Smith was born in 1765, became member of Congress
in 1800, where he remained six years. Being a federalist, he was nearly
the whole time in the minority, yet snch were his character and ad
dress, that he presided more frequently, and with more success, over
the House, when in Coramittee of the Whole, than any other meraber.
" To the lofty bearing of a Roman senator," says the historian,. " ha
added a gentleness so conciliating and persuasive, that the spirit of
discord fled abashed from his presence."
He was my mother's cousin, and I saw him several times at our house.
He was tall, slender, and graceful in forra and raanner. His hair, a
little powdered, was turned back with a queue, and a slight friz over the
ears. His dress was of the olden time — with breeches, black silk stock
ings, and shoe-buckles. His address was an extraordinary mixture of
dignity and gentle persuasive courtesy. He was made judge ofthe Su
perior Court in 1809, and soon after lieutenant-governor; in 1812, he
became acting-governor, upon the death of tbe lamented Griswold. Iu
1818, he was elected governor, and led the State through the war, and
until 1817, when he was defeated by the election of Wolcott.
Governor Smith was the last of those stately, courtly Christian gentle
men of the " Old School," who presided o-ver Connecticut : with him
passed away the dignity of white-top boots, queues, powder, and po
matum. His successor, Oliver Wolcott, though a federalist in the days
of Washington, was never courtly in his manners. He was simple,
direct, almost abrupt in his address, with a crisp brevity and pithiness
of speech. His personal appearance and raanner, contrasting with those
of his predecessors, represented well enough the change of politics which
his accession to the gubernatorial chair indicated.
Governor Smith was the tirst president of the Connecticut Bible So
ciety, President of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign
Missions, President of the American Bible Society, and received from
Yale College the degree of LL.D. He lived at Sharon with patriarchal
liberality and dignity, to the age of eighty, where he died, beloved and
honored by all who knew him

552 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
was defeated : federalism was in the dust, toleration
was triumphant !
I remember that at that time, William L. Stone was
editor of the Connecticut Mirror. Nearly the whole
paper, immediately preceding the election, was filled
with pungent matter. I think I filled a column or
two myself The feelings of the federalists were
very rauch wrought up, but after it was all over,
they took it good-naturedly. A new Constitution
for the State — 1818 — and a very good one, was the
first fruit of the revolution. Wolcott continued gov
ernor for ten years, and taking a raoderate course,
in the end, satisfied reasonable raen of both parties.
He was no radical, and inasrauch as a political change
in Connecticut was inevitable, it is probable that no
better man could have been found,' to lead the people
through the emergency.*
¦* Oliver Wolcott was the third governor of Connecticut in a direct
line from father to son. Eoger, his grandfather, was a native of Wind
sor, born in 1679 and died in 1767. He was a clever author, a conspic
uous Christian, and governor of his native State from 1751 to 1754. His
son, Oliver W., was born about 1727. He was a member of Congress in
1776, when the Decl.iration of Independence waa made. Barlow, in his
•"lolumbiad, thus speaks of him :
" Bold Wolcott urged the all-important cause —
With steady hand the solemn scene he draws ;
Undaunted firmness -with his wisdom joinM —
Nor kings, nor worlds, could warp his steadfast mind."
He was elected governor in 1796, but died the next year.
His son Oliver was born 1759, and became Secretary of the Treasury,
under Washington, upon the retirement of Hamilton, in 1795. He was
continued in this office till the close of Adams's administration. After
twelve years of p-iblio service, he retired, with but sLx hundred dollars
in his pocket ! He devoted himself to commerce in New York from
1801 to 1815. His correspondence, in two volumes octavo, has been

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, la'C. 653
During the period in which Oliver Wolcott was
governor, I was several times at Litchfield, and often
at his house. My sister, Mrs. Cooke, had married his
brother, Frederick Wolcott, living in the old family
published by his grandson Gibbs, and is a valuable and interesting work.
When he ceased to be governor, he returned to New York, where he
died, in 1833. He was an able statesman, possessed of considerable lit
erary attainments, and in conversation was full of sagacity, wit, and
keen observations upon the world.
His sister, Maryanne, wife of Chauncey Goodrich — born 1765 — was
one of the most accomplished women of her tirae. A portrait of her —
though doing no justice to her beauty — is given in Dr. Griswold's " Ee-
publican Court." It is araong tbe household anecdotes of the family,
that during the Eevolution, a. leaden statue of George III. was taken from
New York to Litchfield, and there cast into bullets, and that these were
formed into cartridges by this lady and others in the neighborhood, for
the army. I never saw her, as she died in 1805, before I went to Hartford.
Of Frederick Wolcott, my brother-in-law, I find the following obitu
ary notice in the Philadelphia United States Gazette, July 11, 18S7 :
" Died on the 28th of June, at his residence in Litchfield, Conn., in
the 70th year of his age, the Hon. Frederick Wolcott, one of the most
dbtinguished citizens of that State : a patriot of the old school, a gen
tleman of great moral and intellectual worth, a sincere, humble, consis
tent Christian. It has been well said of Judge Wolcott, that he was one
of ' nature's noblemen.' They who knew him personally, will appre
ciate the correctness and significance of the remark. His noble form,
dignified yet affable and endearing manners, intelligence and purity of
character, magnanimity of soul and useful life, were in grand and har
monious keeping, uniting to make him distinguished among men —
greatly respected, beloved, and honored.
" Judge Wolcott was descended from one of the most eminent fami
lies iu New England, being the son of Oliver Wolcott, former governor of
Connecticut and one of the immortal signers of the Declaration of Inde
pendence, and gramlson of Eoger Wolcott, a still former governor of
that State, who, together with the late Gov. Oliver Wolcott, Secretary
of the Treasury under Washington's administration, and brother of the
deceased, were lineal descendants of Henry Wolcott, an English gen
tleraan of Tolland, in Somersetshire, who came to this country in 1628,
and soon after undertook the flrst settleraent in Connecticut, at Wind
sor. After graduating at Yale College, at an early age, with the highest
honors of his class, Mr. Wolcott directed his studies to the law, and
was soon called to various offices of important civil trust, the chief of
which he held through every fluctuation of party, during a long life. His

554 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
mansion near by, and as I have intimated, my uncle,
Chauncey Goodrich, had raarried his sister — thus
making a double connection in the family. Uriah
Tracy,* one of the most distinguished men in the
integrity inflexible, his perception ready, his judgment sound, his de
portment always courteous, exeraplary, and pleasing, he discharged all
the public duties to which he was called with distinguished reputation.
After his profession of faith in Christ, his life, morally correct and seem
ingly without defect before, was pre-eminently that of an enlightened
and devoted follower ofthe Lord Jesus.
" In all the various relations which he sustained, his character as a
great and good man shone with peculiar luster. In the church, he was
not siraply a member, but a pillar. No one could coramand more re
spect, no one possessed raore infiuence. In the great schemes of be
nevolence which distinguish the present age, he ever lent a helping
hand, and over several beneficent institutions was called to preside.
A decided, though unostentatious Christian, he was ready to do every
good work, and by his counsels and efi'orts, the weight of his character,
and the beautiful consistency of his piety, did much to promote the
cause which he espoused, and to recommend the religion he professed.
It may be truly said of him, that 'he walked with God.'
" In private and social life, his character had charms of still greater
endearment and loveliness. Here ho loved most to move, and here his
more intiraate friends will love to contemplate him. Modest and unas
suming, frank and generous, cordial and cheerful, he was eminently
formed for friendship, and none knew him but to love and honor him.
His mansion was always the abode of hospitality, his heart was always
open, delighting in those varied duties which pertain to the friend, the
neighbor, the relative, the father, and head of his family. In these
several relations, his example was noble, beautiful, lovely indeed !
** The closing scene corresponded with the tenor of his long and use
ful life. It was calm, dignified, of steadfast faith, meekness, patience,
and Christian hope. He died in the full possession of his mental fac
ulties, leaving 'behind hira a trjly enviable reputation, and coming to
his grave, 'as a shock of corn fully ripe, in its season.' "
* Uriah Tracy was born in 1754 and died in 1807. lie was many years
a leading member of Congress, and distinguished for his eloquence,
learning, and wit. I have heard of him the following anecdote: To
ward the latter part of Adams's administration, the latter nominated to
office a connection of his family, by the name of Johnson, forraerly
a federalist, but recently turned democrat. This was offensive to the
federalists, and Tracy, theu of the Senate, being regarded as a skillful
diplomat, was appoiuted to go and remonstrate with tho President. He

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 555
history of Connecticut, had been dead for several
years, but others of great eminence were still living — ¦
giving to Litchfield a remarkable prominence in the
State. Among these were Tapping Reeve,* at one
time chief-justice of Connecticut, and founder of the
law school, which was long the first institution of the
kind in the United States ; Colonel Talmadge, distin
guished as a gallant officer in the Revolution, and a
manly, eloquent debater in Congress ; James Gould,
a learned judge, an elegant .scholar, and successor of
Reeve in the law school ; Jabez W. Huntington— law
lecturer, judge, senator — and distinguished in all these
eminent stations ; Lyman Beecher, f an able theolo-
accordingly went, aud having put his Excellency in excellent humor,
by some of his best stories, at last said —
"By the way, we have been thinking over this nomination of John
son, and flnd there is a good deal of objection to hira. The democrats
will oppose him, because you nominated him ; and some of the feder
alists will oppose hira, because he is a democrat. We fear that if he
goes to a vote, he will fail of a confirmation. As it would be unfortu
nate, just now, to have the administration defeated, your friends have
requested me to suggest to your Excellency whether it would not be best
to withdraw his name and substitute another ?"
The President thrust his hands into his breeches pockets, and strode
fiercely across the room : then coming up to Tracy, he said — " No, sir,
no — that  Boston Junto will never be satisfied till they drive me and
my family back to Braintree to dig potatoes. No, sir — I'll not with
draw it !"
* Judge Eeeve was born in 1744, and died in 1823. His law school
was, founded iu 1784 : in 1794, he associated Judge Gould with him.
In 1820, Judge Eeeve left it, and Mr. Huntington became connected
with it. More than eight hundred persons have here had their legal
education : among these there have been fifteen United States senators
— five have been cabinet members ; ten governors of States ; two judges
of the Supreme Court; and forty judges of State courts. Judge Gould
died in 1838, aged 67 : Judge Huntington died in 1847, aged 50.
t Dr. Beecher was born at New Haven, in 1775, was educated at "^ ale

556 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
gian and eloquent preacher, and even now more wide
ly known through his talented family, than his own
genius. Litchfield Hill was in fact not only one of
the raost elevated features in the physical conforma
tion of Connecticut, but one of the focal points of litera
ture and civilization. You will readily suppose that
my visits here were araong the most interesting events
of my early life.
In August, 1851, there was at Litchfield a gather
ing of distinguished natives of the county, convened
to celebrate its organization, which had taken place a
century before. Appropriate addresses' were raade by
Judge Church, Dr. Bushnell, F. A. Tallraadge, D. S.
Dickinson, George W. Holley, George Gould, Henry
Dutton, and other persons of distinction.
College, settled at Hampton, Long Island, 1798; in ISIO, at Litchfield;
iu 1826, in the Hanover-street church, Boston; in 1832, became Presi
dent of the Lane Theological Seminary, Cincinnati, which office he re
signed in 1842, returning to Boston, where he still resides. He has
published several volumes On theological subjects. He has devoted his
long life, with prodigious activity and vigor, to the promotion of religion,
learning, and the larger humanities of life. As a preacher he was very
effective, possessing surpassing powers of statement, illustration, and
argument. His spirit and genius seera to have been imparted to his large family,
of whom Edward Beecher, Miss C.ntherine Beecher, Mrs. Stowe, Henry
Ward Beecher, and others — all celebrated for their works — are members.
At the time I was in Litchfield I heard the following anecdote of Dr. B.
He was one evening going horae, having in his hand a volume of Eee's
Encyclopedia, which he had taken at the bookstore. In his way, he
met a skunk, and threw the book at him, upou which the animal re
torted, and with suoh eflfect that the doctor reached home in a very
shocking plight. Some time after he was assailed, rather abusively,
by a controversialist, and a friend advised the doctor to reply. " No,"
said he—" I once discharged a quarto at a skunk, and I got the worst of
it. I do not wish to try it again !"

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 557

LETTER XXXIV.
Stephen R. Bradley — My Pursuit ofthe Vocation of Bookseller and Publish
er — Scott's Poems — General Enthusiasm — Byron's Poems — Their Re
ception — Tlie Waverley Novels — Tlieir amazing Popularity — I publish an
Edition of them — Literary Club at Hartford — J. M, Wainwright, Isaac
ToiLcey, WiUiam L. Stone, <&c. — The Round Table — Original American
'Works — State of Opi/nion as to Anrierican Literature — Publication oj
TrumbulPs Poems — Books for Education — Rev. G. A. Goodrich — Dr.
Comstock — 'Woodbridge's Geography.
My dear q ***** *
Early in the year 1818 I was married to the
daughter of Stephen Rowe Bradley,* of Westminster,
Vermont. Thus established in life, I pursued the
business of bookseller and publisher at Hartford for
* General Bradley was a native of Cheshire, Connecticut, where he
was born, Oct. 20, 1754. He graduated at Yale College in 1775, and as
before stated, was aid to Gen. Wooster, at the tirae he fell, in a skir
mish with the British, near Danbury, in 1777. He removed to Ver
mont about the year 1780, and devoting himself to the bar, acquired
an extensive practice. Having popular manners, and a keen insight
into society, he became a prominent political leader, and exercised a
larce influence in laying tho foundations of the State of Vermont, theu
the Texas of this country— Ethan Allen, Ira Allen, Seth Warner, and
Thomas Chittenden — all from Connecticut — being the Austins and
Houstons of its early history. At the period to which I refer it was
rising frora the chaos of the Kevolutionary war, and the still more dis
organizing contests with colonial claimants for sovereignty over her ter
ritories. In 1791, that State having come into the Union, Gen. Bradley
was chosen one of its first senators. With an interval of six years — from
1795 to 1801 — he continued in the Senate till 1813, a period of sixteen
years. He was a raeraber of the deraocratic party, and called, " by vir
tue of powers vested in him," the caucus which nominated Madison, and
resulted in his election to the presidency. He was distinguished for "
political sagacity, a ready wit, boundless stores of anecdote, a Large ac
quaintance with mankind, and an extensive range of historical knowl
edge. His conversation was exceedingly attractive, beiug always illus
trated by pertinent anecdotes and apt historical refereniies. His devel-

558 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
four years. My vocation gave me the command of
books, but I was able to read but little, my eyes con
tinuing to be so weak that I could hardly do justice
to my affairs. By snatches, however, I dipped into a
good many books, and acquired a considerable knowl
edge of authors and their works.
During the period in which Scott had been enchant
ing the world with his poetry — that is, from 1805 to
1815 — I had shared in the general intoxication. The
Lady of the Lake delighted me beyond expression,
and even now, it seems to me the most pleasing and
perfect of metrical romances. These productions
seized powerfully upon the popular mind, partly on
account of the romance of their revelations, and
partly also because of the pellucidity of the style
and the easy flow of the versification. Everybody
could read and coraprehend thera. One of my
younger sisters committed the whole of the Lady
of the Lake to raeraory, and was accustomed of an
evening to sit at her sewing, while she recited it
to an admiring circle of listeners. All young poets
were inoculated with the octa-sy liable verse, and news-
opraents of the interior machinery of parties, during the times of
Washington, Jefferson, and Madison ; his portraitures of the polit
ical leaders of these interesting eras in our history — all freely com
municated at a period when he had retired from the active arena of
politics, and now looked back upon them with the feelings of a philos
opher — were in the highest degree intere'sting and instructive. He re
ceived the degree of LL.D., and having removed to Walpole, in New
Hampshire, a few years before, died Deo. 16, 1830, aged 76. His son,
W. C. Bradley — still living, at the age of 74 — has also been a distin
guished lawyer and raember of Congress.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 559
papers, magazines, and even volumes, teemed with im
itations and variations inspired by the "Wizard Harp
of the North." Not only did Scott* himself continue to
pour out volume after volume, but others produced set
* Scott experienced the fate of most eminent writers who have ac
quired a certain mannerism, recognized by the community at large—
that is, he was laughed at by burlesques of his works. George Col
man, the Younger, though not very -yoang, travestied the Lady ofthe
Lake under the title of the Lady of tlie Wreck— the latter of about the
same dimensions as the former. It is an Irish story, full of droll ex
travagance and laughable imitations of the original, at which they are
aimed. In 1812, appeared the " Eejected Addresses" of Jaraes and Horace
Sraith, and in these the principal poets of the day were imitated, and
their peculiarities parodied. They may, in fact, be considered as mas
terly criticisms of the several authors, in which their weak points are
strongly suggested to the reader. The laughable imitations of the "Lake
Poets" — Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge — probably had as much
effect in curing them of their aff'ectations, as the scoffing ridicule of the
Edinburgh Review. Even Byron, who actually gained the prize offered
by the m-anager of Drury Lane Theater, on the occasion of its opening
in the new building, received a staggering blow frora the imitation of
Childe Harold, which was so close in raanner as to seem as if extracted
from that poem, while the spirit of the composition is strongly and ef
fectively ridiculed. The following ,are two characteristic stanzas ;
" Sated with home, with wife and children tired.
The restless soul is driven abroad to roam —
Sated abroad, all seen, yet naught admired —
Tlie restless soul ie driven to ramble home.
Sated with both, beneath new Drury's dome.
The fiend Ennui a while consents to pine —
There growls and curses like a deadly Gnome,
Scorning to view fantastic Columbine,
Viewing with scorn the nonsense ofthe Nine I
*****
" Eor what is Hamlet; but a hare in March ?
And what is Brutus, but a croaking owl ?
And what is Eotia* Cupid stcep'd in starcli,
Orlando's helmet in Augustine's cowl 1
Shakspeare — bow true thine adage, ' fair is foul'—
To liim whose soal is with fruition fraught,
The song of Braham is an Irish bowl —
Thinking it but an idle waste of thought,
And nanght is every thing and every thing is naught t"

560 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
poems, in his style, some of them so close in theii
imitation, as to be supposed the works of Scott hira
self trying the effect of a disguise. At last, however,
the market was overstocked, and the general appetite
began to pall with a .surfeit, when one of those sud
den changes took place in the public taste, which re
semble the convulsions of nature — as a whirlwind
or a tempest in the tropics — by which a monsoon,
having blown steadily from one point in the compass,
for six months, is made to turn about and blow as
steadily in the opposite direction.
It was j ust at the point in which the octa-sy liable
plethora began to revolt the public taste, that Byron
produced his first canto of Childe Harold's Pilgrim
age. In London, the effect was sudden, and the
youthful poet who went to bed a comraon man, woke
up in the morning and found himself famous. This

It is a point of the highest interest in my recollections, that during
the period in which Scott and Byron were rising.into notice, and after
ward, in the full tide of success, were thrilling the whole reading world
with their masterly productions, that the Edinburgh Eeview, under the
leadership of Jeffrey, was at its zenith. His criticisms were undoubt
edly the most brilliant and profound that had appeared at that period ;
nor has any thing superior to them been written since. About the same
time Wordsworth and his friends, Southey and Coleridge, attempted to
make the world believe that bathos is pathos, weakness strength, and
silliness sublimity. On this experiment they wasted a large amount of
genius. While the Edinburgh Eeview found a noble scope for its high
est efforts in illustrating the beauties of the Waverley novels, and settin"
forth as well the faults as the sublimities of Byron, it also gave fall ex
ercise to its incomparable ridicule and raillery, in noticing the harle-
quinisras of the Lake triumvirate. At this period, a new number of
" the Edinburgh" created as much sensation as a new instalment of Ma-
•auly's history, at tlie present d.ay.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 561
ready appreciation there, arose in a great degree from
the fact that the author was a raan of fashion and a
lord. In this country, these adventitious attributes
were less readily felt, and therefore the reception of
the new poem was more hesitating and distrustful.
For some time, only a few persons seemed to com
prehend it, and many who read it, scarcely knew
whether to be delighted or shocked. As it gradually
made its way in the public raind, it was against a
strong current both of taste and principle.
The public eye and ear — imbued with the ge
nius of Scott — had becorae adjusted to his sensuous
painting of external objects, set in rhyraes resonant
as those of the nursery books. His poeras were,
in fact, lyrical roraances, with something of epic dig
nity of thought and incident, presented in all the
simplicity of ballad versification. A person with
tastes and habits formed upon the reading of these
productions, opening upon Childe Harold's Pilgrim
age, was likely to feel himself — amid the long-drawn
stanzas and the deep, mystic meditations — in some
what of a labyrinth. Scott's poems were, moreover,
elevating in their moral tone, and indeed the popular
literature of the day — having generally purified itself
from the poisons infused into it by the spirit of the
French Eevolution — was alike conservative in man
ners and morals. Campbell's Pleasures of Hope and
Eogers' Pleasures of Memory, were favorite poems
from 1800 to 1815 ; and during the same period,

563 LE'rTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Thaddeus of Warsaw, the Scottish Chiefs, the Pas
tor's Fireside, by Jane Porter ; Sandford and Merton,
by Day ; Belinda, Leonora, Patronage, by Miss Edge-
worth ; and Coelebs in Search of a Wife, by Han
nah More — were types of the popular taste in tales
and romances. It was therefore a fearful plunge
from this elevated moral tone in literature, into the
daring if not blasphemous skepticisms of the new
poet. The power of his productions, however, could not
be resisted : he had, in fact — in delineating his own
moody and morbid emotions — seemed to open a new
raine of poetry in the soul ; at least, he was the first
to disclose it to the popular raind. By degrees, the
public eye — admitted to these gloomy, cavernous re
gions of thought — became adjusted to their dim and
dusky atmosphere, and saw, or seemed to see, a ma
jestic spirit beckoning them deeper and deeper into its
labyrinths. Thus, what was at first revolting, came
at last to be a fascination. Having yielded to the
enchanter, the young and the old, the grave and
the gay, gave themselves up to the sorceries of
the poet-wizard. The struggle over, the new-born
love was ardent and profound, in proportion as it
had dallied or resisted at the beginning. The very
magnitude of the change — in passing from Scott's
romantic ballads to Byron's metaphysical trances —
when at last it was sanctioned by fashion, seemed to
confirm and sanctify the revolution. Thus in about

563
five or six years after the appearance ofthe first canto
of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage — the others having
speedily followed — the whole poetic world had be
come Byronic. Aspiring young rhymers now affect
ed the Spenserian stanza, misanthropy, and skepti
cism. As Byron advanced in his career of profligacy,
and reflected his shameless debaucheries in Don Juan,
Beppo, and other similar effusions, the public — se
duced, bewildered, enchanted — still followed him, and
condescended to bring down their morals and their
manners to his degraded and degrading standard.
The secret of the power thus exercised lay in va
rious elements. In England, the aristocratic rank of
Byron added greatly to his influence over the public
mind, and this was at last reflected in America.
With little real feeling of nature, he had, however,
an imagination of flame, and an amazing gift of po
etic expression. The great fascination, however —
that which creates an agonizing interest in his prin
cipal poems — is the constant idea presented to the
reader that, under the disguise of his fictitious heroes,
he is unconsciously depicting his own sad, despairing
emotions. We always feel — whether in perusing
Childe Harold, or Manfred, or Cain, or any of his
more elaborate works — as if we were listening to the
moans of Prometheus struggling with the vultures,
or of Ixion toiling at his wheel. We could not, if
we would, refuse our pity for such suffering, even in
a demon; how deep, then, must be our sympathy,
5*

564 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
when this is spoken to us in the thrilling tones of
humanity, using as its vehicle all the music and mel
ody ofthe highest lyrical art!
In vain, therefore, was it that the moralist resisted
the diffusion of Byron's poems over the country.
The pulpit opened its thunders against them^ — teach
ers warned their pupils, parents their children. I
remember, even as late as 1820, that sorae booksellers
refused to sell them, regarding them as infidel publi
cations. About this time a publisher of Hartford, on
this ground, declined being concerned in stereotyping
an edition of them. It was all in vain. Byron could
no more be kept at bay, than the cholera. His works
have had their march over the world, and their victiras
have been probably not less numerous than those of
that scourge of the nations. Byron may be, in fact,
considered as having opened the gates to that tide of
infidelity and licentiousness which sometimes carae out
boldly, as in the poeras of Shelly, and more disguisedly
in various other works, which converted Paul Clifford
and Dick Turpin into popular heroes. He lowered the
standard of public taste, and prepared a portion of the
people of England and America to receive with favor
the blunt sensualities of Paul de Kock, and the subtle
infiltrations of deism by Madame George Sand. Hap
pily, society has in its bosom the elements of conserva
tism, and at the present day the flood of license has
subsided, or is subsiding. Byron is still read, but his
immoralities, his atheism, have lost their relish, and

565
are now deemed offenses and blemishes, and at the
same time the public taste is directing itself in favor of
a purer and more exalted moral tone in every species
of literature. Longfellow, Bryant, and Tennyson are
the exponents of the public taste in poetry, and
Hawthorne, Dickens, Thackeray, in romance. All
the varied forms of light reading are taking a corre
sponding tone of respect for morals and religion.
Scott speedily appreciated the eclipse to which his
poetical career was doomed by the rising genius of
Byron. He now turned his attention to prose fiction,
and in July, 1814, completed and published Waverley,
which had been begun sorae eight or ten years before.
It produced no sudden emotion in the literary world.
It was considered a clever performance — nothing
more. I recollect to have heard it criticised by some
veteran novel-readers of that day, because its leading
character, Waverley, was only a respectable, common
place person, and not a perfect hero, according to the
old standards of romance. Guy Mannering came out
the next year, and was received with a certain degree
of eagerness. The Antiquary, Black Dwarf, Old
Mortality, Eob Eoy, and the Heart of Mid-Lothian,
followed in quick succession. I suspect that never,
in any age, have the productions of any author created
in the world so wide and deep an enthusiasm. This
emotion reached its height upon the appearance of
Ivanhoe in 1819, which,. I think, proved the most
popular of these marvelous productions.

566 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
At this period, although there was a good deal of
mystery as to their authorship, the public generally
referred thera to Scott.* He was called the " Great
Unknown" — a title which served to create even an
adventitious interest in his career. The appearance
of a new tale from his pen, caused a greater sensation
in the United States than did some of the battles of
Napoleon, which decided the fate of thrones and em
pires. Everybody read these works ; everybody —
the refined and the simple — shared in the delightful
trances which seeraed to transport them to remote
ages and distant climes, and made them live and
breathe in the presence of the stern Covenanters of
Scotland, the gallant bowmen of Sherwood Forest,
or even the Crusaders in Palestine, where Coeur de
Lion and Saladin were seen struggling for the mas
tery ! I can testify to my own share in this intoxi
cation. I was not able, on account of my eyes, to
read these works myself but I found friends to read

* It is a fact worthy of being noted, that while the evidence that Scott
was the author ofthe Waverley Novels was clear and conclusive, various
writers asserted the contrary. Some contended that they were written
by Sir Walter's brother, Thomas, in Canada ; sorae, that they were the
productions of a certain — or rather an uncertain — Dr. Greenfield, &e.
The subject was discussed -with great vehemence, and something like
partisan bitterness, it was proved to demonstration, over and over
again, by some of these wiseacres, from internal, external, moral, reli
gious, and political evidence, that Sir Walter Scott could not be the
author. The foundation of all this was that envy, inherent in some
minds, which is offended by success. Pcrsoas of this class invented,
and at last believed, the absurdities which thuy propagated. The fact is
instructive, for it teaches us the danger of fol .owing the lead of littleness
and malignity. Candor is a safer guide thar envy or malice.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 567
them to me. To one good old maid — Heaven bless
her! — I was indebted for the perusal of no less than
seven of these tales.
Of course, there were many editions of these works
in the United States, and among ethers, I published
an edition, I think in eight volumes, octavo — inclu
ding those which had appeared at that time. About
this period — that is, in 1819 — I was one of a literary
club, of which J. M. Wainwright,* Isaac Toucey,
William L. Stone, Jonathan Law, S. H. Huntington,
and others, were members. The first meeting was at
my house, and I composed a poem for the occasion,
¦* Dr. Wainwright was born at Liverpool, in 1792, of parents who
were citizens of the United States, but who at that date were on a visit
to England. He came to this country at the age of 11, was educated at
Cambridge, and was instituted rector of Christ Church at Hartford, in
1815. He came to New York about 1820, and after filling various im
portant stations, was in 1852 elected provisional bishop ofthe diocese of
New York. He was an accomplished scholar and gentleman, and an
earnest and successful laborer in the various fields to which his life was
devoted. Mr. Toucey studied law at Newtown, and came to Hartford abouf
1812, and has since resided there. He is an eminent lawyer, and has
filled the offices of governor and senator of the United States. The
.'atter place he still holds.
William L. Stone, born at Esopus, New York, 1792, was first a printer,
and afterward became distinguished as an editor — first in conducting
a political paper at Albany, and then at Hudson. 'When Theodore
Dwight, who had founded the Connecticut Mirror, left for Albany, in
1816, Mr. Stone succeeded him. In 1821, he succeeded to the editorship
of the Comraercial Advertiser, at New York, which place he filled till
his death, in 1844. He published various works, araong which were the
Life of Brant, Memoir of Eed Jacket, Letters on Masonry and Antima-
Eonry, &o. He wrote with great rapidity and fluency, and had a re
markable talent in collecting materials and making compilations. Ir
personal character he was exceedingly amiable, giving his warm sym
pathy to all things charitable and religions.
JonaAan Law was the postmaster of Hartford ; he was agood Boholar,

568 LETl'EES-^BIOGEAPHICAL,
entitled "A Vision" — afterward published, with other
poeras, in 1836. I also published three or four num
bers of a sraall work entitled the " Eound Table," the
articles of which were written by different members ot
the club.
About this time I began to think of trying to
bring out original American works. It raust be re
membered that I am speaking of a period prior to
1820. At that date, Bryant, Irving, and Cooper —
the founders of our modern literature — a trinity of
genius in poetry, essay, and romance — had but just
comraenced their literary career. Neither of them
had acquired a positive reputation. Halleck, Percival,
Brainard, Longfellow, Willis, were at school — at least,
all were unknown. The general impression was that
we had not, and could not have, a literature. It was
the precise point at which Sidney Smith had ut
tered that bitter taunt in the Edinburgh Eeview —
" Who reads an American book ?" It proved to be
that "darkest hour just before the dawn." The
successful booksellers of the country — Carey, Small,
Thomas, Warner, of Philadelphia ; Campbell, Duyc
kinck, Eeed, Kirk & Mercein, Whiting & Watson, of
New York ; Beers & Howe, of New Haven ; 0. D.

a man of reflned feelings, with a sensitive, shrinking delicacy of manners
in the intercourse of life.
Mr. Huntington has been judge of the county court, and has filled
other responsible offices. He is now clerk of the Court of Claims, at
Washington, though he resides at Hartford. — Such were some of tha
members of our little club.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 569
Cooke, of Hartford ; West & Eichardson, Curaraings
& Hilliard, E. P. & C. Williaras, S. T. Armstrong, of
Boston — were for the most part the mere reproducers
and sellers of English books. It was positively in
jurious to the commercial credit of a bookseller to
undertake American works, unless they might be
Morse's Geographies, classical books, school-books,
devotional books, or other utilitarian works.
Nevertheless, about this time I published an edi
tion of Trumbull's poems, in two volumes, octavo,
.and paid' hira a thousand dollars, and a hundred
copies of the work, for the copyright. I was seriously
counseled against this by several booksellers — and, in
fact, Trumbull had sought a publisher, in vain, for
several years previous. There was an association
of designers and engravers at Hartford, called the
" Graphic Company,"* and as I desired to patronize
the liberal arts there, I employed them to execute the
embellishments. For so considerable an enterprise,
I took the precaution to get a subscription, in which
I was tolerably successful. The work was at last
produced, but it did not come up to the public ex
pectation, or the patriotic zeal had cooled, and more
than half the subscribers declined taking the work.

¦* The designer of the establishraent was Elkanah Tisdale, a fat, face
tious gentleman— a miniature painter by profession, but a man of some
literary taste, and admirable humor in anecdote. He illustrated, with
great cleverness, the handsome edition of the Echo, published by Isaac
jtiley — brother-in-law of Dwight and Alsop, two ofthe principal authors
 though it professes to be from the Porcupine Press, and by Pasquin
Petronius.

570 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
I did not press it, but putting a good face upon the
affair, I let it pass, and — while the public supposed I
had made money by my enterprise, and even the au
thor looked askance at me in the jealous apprehension
that I had made too good a bargain out of him — I
quietly pocketed a loss of about a thousand dollars.
This was my first serious adventure in patronizing
Araerican literature.
About the same period I turned my attention to
books for education and books for children, being
strongly impressed with the idea that there was here a
large field for improvement. I wrote, myself a small
arithmetic, and half a dozen toy -books, and published
them, though I have never before confessed j,heir au
thorship. I also employed several persons to write
school histories, and educational manuals of chemis
try, natural philosophy, &c., upon plans which I pre
scribed — all of which I published ; but none of these
were very successful at that tirae. Some of them,
passing into other hands, are now among the most
popular and profitable school-books in the country.'*
* Among these was A History ofthe United States of America, by Kev.
C. A. Goodrich : this was the first of the popular school histories of the
United States, now in circulation — and, in fact, the first of my brother's
numerous publications. Previous to this time, tlie history ofthe United
States was not one of our school studies. Other works of a similar kind,
after this example, soon followed, but this work has continued to be one
ofthe most popular. Several hundred thousand copies of it have been
sold. Another was an educational treatise on Natural Philosophy, by J. L.
Comstock, which is now a popular and standard work in the schools,
and has been republished in Englaud. Dr. Comstock also wrote, apon
plans which I indicated, an educational work on Chemistry, another or

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 571
William C. Woodbridge, .one of the teachers of the
Deaf and Dumb Asylum, at this time projected a
school geography, in which I assisted him— mostly in
preparing the details of the work for the press, and in
the mechanical department. When an edition of il
was finally ready-— after long and anxious labor, both
on his part and mine— the state of my health com
pelled me to relinquish it. This work acquired great
popularity, and became the starting-point- of a new
era in school geographies, both in this country and
in England.

Mineralogy, &c., which I published. Thus this excellent and useful
author began that series of treatises, designed to popularize science,
which has placed his name among the eminent benefactors of education
in this country. I am happy to say, that he is still living at Hartford, in
the enjoyment of the respect and friendship which his amiable character
and useful life naturally inspire — and, I may add, in the enjoyment also
of that independence which is but a just compensation of well-directed
industry and talent.
Mr. Woodbridge was born in 1795, graduated at Yale in 1811, and,
having studied theology, became one of the teachers of the deaf and
dumb, at Hartford. He was a raan of the greatest amenity of manner and
purity' of life; he showed also a complete devotion to what he deemed
his duty, viewed through a religious light. He gave his attention to
education, and may be considered as one of the pioneers in the great
improvements lately made in the art of instruction. He traveled in
Europe, visiting the most celebrated educational establishments, and
holding intercourse with the most enlightened friends of educational
progress and improvement. The result of his researches and reflections
he gave to the public in numerous valuable and profound treatises.
He was a little too much ofa perfectionist to be immediately practical,
and hence his books — two geographical tre.itises — were somewhat be
yond the age in which he lived ; but still they exercised a powerful
influence in suggesting valuable ideas to others. His flrst geography I
took to England in 1828, and got it published there, for his beflefit. It
still continues to be published in London, Mr. Woodbridge was a man
of feeble health, yet struggled manfully till 1845, when he expired, at
Boston — loved and admired by all who knew him.

573 LETTEEiS  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,

LETTER XXXV.
Sketches ofthe " Hartford Wits"— Dr. Hopkins— TrumbuU, author of Mc-
Fingal^David Humphries— Dr. Strong— Theodore Dwight — Thomas H.
GaiUmdet — Daniel Wadsworth — Dr. CoggsweU — Mrs. Sigourn,ey.
Mt deae Q ***** *
In order to complete the panorama of my life at
Hartford, I must give you a brief sketch of some of
the persons whom I knew there, and who had become
conspicuous by their words or works. I have al
ready said that Hopkins,'* who in point of genius
stood at the head of the noted literary fraternity of
" Hartford Wits," was not living when I went to re
side at that place. Trumbull, the author of McPin-
gal, was still living, and I knew him well. He was at
that time an old man, and — ^always small of stature — ¦
was now bent, emaciated, and tottering with a cane.
His features were finely cut, and he raust have been
* Dr. Lemuel Hopkins was born at Waterbury, 1750 : he practiced
physic at Litchfield, and afterward at Hartford, where he died in 1801.
He left a strong impression upon the public mind, as well by the eccen
tricity of his personal appearance and habits, as by bis learning and ge
nius. He was often described to me as long and lank, walking with
spreading arms and straddling legs. His nose was long, lean, and -flex
ible; his eyes protruding, and his whole expression a strange mixture
of solemnity and drollery. He was of a social disposition, and often in
talking at a neighbor's house, would forgot his business engagements.
He was intiraate with Theodore Dwight, and his daughter has told me
that she recollects his coining to their house, and being very much fa
tigued, iie laid himself down on the floor, and put a log of wood under
his head for a pillow. Here he began to dictate poetry, which her far
ther wrote down, being very likely one of those poems which has placed
his name among the most vigorous of our satirists.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 573
handsome in his younger days. His eye was keen and
bright, his nose slightly aquiline, his raouth arching
downward at the corners, expressive of sarcastic hu
mor. There was something about him that at once
bespoke the man of letters, the poet, and the satirist.'*
* John Trumbull — the poet — belonged to one of those remarkable
families in Connecticut which, through several generations, have pos
sessed talents that carried them to the highest stations in society. Jona
than Trumbull, of Lebanon, born in 1710, was elected governor in 1769,
and continued to be annually elected till 1783, when he resigned, having
been thirty years, without interruption, in public employment. His ser
vices, rendered to the country during the war, were regarded as alraost
next those of Washington. It is said that the name given to our coun
try of "Brother Jonathan," came from him, in an allusion to his oo
operation with Washington in the Eevolution. He died in 1785. His
son Jonathan, born at Lebanon, 1740, was Washington's secretary and
aid, raember of Congress in 1789, speaker of the House in 1791, in 1794
senator, and in 1798, governor of the State. He died in 1809. Joseph
Trumbull, nephew of the preceding, and still living, has filled various
offices, and been senator ofthe United States and governor ofthe State.
Benjamin Trumbull, the distinguished historian — born in 1735 and died
in 1820 — was nephew of the first Gov. Trumbull. Col. John Trumbull,
brotherof thesecondgovernorofthatname and aid to Washington, was
an eminent painter and elegant gentleman, and died in 1843, aged 87.
A collection of his paintings, valuable as historical and biographical
mementoes, belongs to Yale College.
John Trumbull, the poet, son of the Eev. John T. of Watertown, a
connection of this family, was born 1750. At seven he was admitted at
college, but did not enter upon his studies there till thirteen. I have heard
him say that when he went to enter at Yale, he rode on horseback behind
his father, and wore his mother's cloak and hood. He studied law, min
gling the composition of poetry with.legal pursuits. Having been in the
law oflSoe of John Adams, at Boston, he settled as a lawyer at Hartford
in 1781, and became distinguished in his profession. He wrote several
poems, the most noted of which was MoFingal, an imitation of Hudi-
bras, and in some passages not inferior to the best portions of that famous
production. Trumbull was, no doubt, the most conspicuous literary
character of his day, iu this country. I pubUshed a revised edition of
his works in 1820, as elsewhere stated. His society was much sought,
and he was the nucleus of a band of brilliant geniuses, including
Dwight, Hopkins, Alsop, Huraphries, &c.
The latter I often saw at Hartford, usually on visits to Trurabull. Ha

574 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
Dr. Strong was the minister of the Middle Brick
Church — the principal Congregational church in the
city. He was now near threescore and ten — ^large,
infirm, and shuffling along as if afflicted with gout
in the feet. His life and character had been marked
with eccentricities — with worldliness, wit, and social
aptitudes. Nevertheless, he was an eloquent and
devout preacher : it was said of him that when in
the pulpit, it seeraed that he ought never to leave it,
and when out of it, that he ought never to go into it.
All his levity, however, had passed when I knew
hira. He was indeed fast approaching that bourne
whence no traveler returns. With all his early
was then old, and living in his native town of Derby, where he had es
tablished a woolen manufactory. He had been one of the handsomest
men of his time, and was now large, portly, powdered, with a blue coat
and bright buttons, a yellow waistcoat, drab breeches, and white-top
boots. His complexion was florid, showing a little raore appreciation
of Sherry than was orthodox in Connecticut — a taste he brought with
his wife and her fortune frora Lisbon, or Madrid, iu both which places
he had been ambassador. He was in truth a splendid mixture of the
old Continental soldier, and the powdered and pomatumed diplomat.
Though past sixty, he still affected poetry, and on one occasion — per
haps about 1810 — came in his oo.ach-and-four, to get Trurabull to aid
him in finishing his Fable of the Monkey, who, imitating his master in
shaving, eut his own throat. He had nearly completed it, but wished a
pointed, epigrammatic termination. Trumbull took it and read to the
end, as it was written, and then added, without stopping —
" Drew razor swift as he could pull it,
And cut, fi-om eai- to ear, his gullet 1"
This completed the fable, and it so stands to this day. This anecdote
was told me by Trumbull hiraself, and I gave it to Kettell, who inserted
it in the notice of the poet, in his "Specimens of American Poetry."
Humphries died in 1818 ; Trumbull in 1841, having been a judge of the
Superior Court from 1801 till 1819, when he was disqualified by age,
imder a law of the State.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 575
faults, he had a very strong hold of the affections
and confidence of his people. His face was remark
ably expressive, his eye keen, his lips firm, his
nose arched, and his long, thick, gray hair turned
back and rolled in waves upon his shoulders. I am
not sure that his reputation as a man of wit and
worldly taste, now that these were cast aside, did not
deepen the impression made by his preaching at this
period. I am certain that I have never heard dis
courses more impressive, more calculated to subdue
the pride of the heart, and turn it to religious sub
mission, than these. He was considered a man of
remarkable sagacity, especially in penetrating the
motives of mankind, and he was at the same time
esteemed by his clerical brethren as a very able di
vine. He published two volumes of sermons, but
they furnish little evidence of the genius which was
imputed to him. His reputation is now merely tra
ditional, but it is impossible not to perceive that,
with such eccentricities, he must have been a man
of remarkable qualities, inasmuch as he gathered into
his congregation the first minds in the city, and left
a name which still seems a bond of union and strength
to the church over which he presided.'*
* Nathan Strong, D. D., was born at Coventry, 1748, and graduated
at Yale : during the Eevolution, he was a chaplain in the array. After
he was settled as a minister, he became a partner in the firm of Strong
& Sraith, and engaged in the raanufacture of gin. As M'as fit and proper,
one of his deacons, good old Mr. Corning, was a grocer, and sold New
England rura. As this article was frequently wanted after the store
was shut, he kept a barrel on tap at his house, so that the people need

576 LETTERS' — -BIOGEAPHICAL,
Theodore Dwight, a younger brother of Dr. Dwight,
was born at Northampton, in 1764. His early life
was spent upon the farm, and at that period when
the wolf wild-cat, and Indian were occasionally seen
in the forest — furnishing him with ample materials
for interesting descriptions of adventure in after
not suffer for the want of this staff of life I The firra of Strong & Smith
failed, and the minister shut himself up in his house to avoid the sheriff,
but as no writ could be served on Sundays, he then went forth and
preached to his congregation. All this took place toward the close of
the last century. There was nothing in it disgraceful, theu. Let those
who deny that society has made progress in its standard of propriety,
compare this with the universal tone of public sentiment now.
Of the numerous anecdotes of Dr. Strong, I give you one or two spe
cimens. The first of these is connected with the Missionary Society of
Connecticut, of whichhe was a principal founder. The Eev. Mr. Bacon — ¦
father of the present celebrated Dr. Leonard Bacon, of New Haven — had
been employed as a missionary to that part of Ohio called the WesterE
Eeserve. Sorae deeply interesting letters, detailing his operations, had
been received, and on the Sabbath, after the service, Dr. Strong invited
Theodore Dwight into the pulpit, to read them. This he performed,
and the letters made a deep impression upon the audience. One old
man, by the name of Z . . . P . . . . , who was not only hard of hearing, but
hard of head and heart, actually wept. As Mr. Dwight was about to
descend, the doctor whispered to him — " You have done in thirty min
utes what I have not been able to aocomplish in thirty years : you have
made old Z. . . P  cry 1"
Dr. S. had issued a prospectus for his sermons, when one day he raet
Trumbull the poet. " When are your sermons to be out ?" said the lat
ter. " I cannot exactly toll," said the doctor. " I am waiting to find a
text to suit a raan who never comes to church, except when he has a
child to be baptized" — a palpable allusion to Trumbull's neglect of the
sanctuary about those days.
Dr. Mason, of New York, once called on Dr. Strong, and as he was
about to depart, he stumbled, and almost fell, in consequence of a de
fect in one ofthe door-steps. " Why don't you mend your ways?"
said he, somewhat peevishly. " I was waiting for a Mason," was the
ready reply.
One of Dr. S.'s deacons came to him with a diflficulty. " Pray, doc
tor," said he, " tell me how it happens : all my hens hatch on Sunday."
" The reason is," said the doctor, " that you set them on Sunday !"

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, EIC. 577
time. When nearly twenty, he injured his wrist,
and being disqualified for the labors of a farmer, he
turned his attention to study, and finally selected the
profession of the law. He established himself at Hart
ford,* and rose to eminence in his profession. He
had, however, a strong bias toward literature, and
* When I went to reside at Hartford, Mr. Dwight was living next
door to ray uncle, and was on intimate terms with hira. He was a tall,
handsome mau, with an exceedingly black, flashing eye, and a lip that
»nrled easily in laughter or satire. He had an infinite fund of anecdote,
great learning, an abundant ac<iuaintance with literature, and lively pow-
srs of description. He wrote with facility, and dashed off verses almost
by improvisation.
In early life, he had written sentimental poetry, specimens of which
may be found in " American Poems," published at Litchfield, in 1793.
The lines, " Alfred to Philena," are his — Philena being Mrs. Morton.
They sound strongly Delia Cruscan— at this day — for the productions of
Theodore Dwight. As an editor, he was chiefly devoted to polities,
pursuing democracy with the unsparing vigilance of a falcon in chase
of its prey. Some of his pasquinades became very popular, and great
ly irritated the opposite party. His lines in ridicule of a Jeffersonian
festival at New Haven, March, 1803— beginning as follows, and consist
ing of some dozen similar stanzas — were said and sung all over the
country. Te tribes of Faction, join —
Tour daughters and your wives :
Moll Gary's come to dine,
And dance with Deacon Ives.
Te ragged throng
Of democrats.
As thick as rats,
Corae join the song.
Old Deacon Bishop stands,
With well-beft-izzled wig,
File-leader of the band.
To open with ajig—
With parrot-toe
The poor old man
Tries all he can
To make it go, &o.
When the Non-intercourse ac^-the last of the so-called " .Restrictive
Xiosures," and which by way ii ridicule had been nick-named the

5 78 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
wrote verses and political essays. Such was the rep
utation he soon acquired, that he was selected by
Wolcott, Hamilton, and others, to preside over the
Evening Post, established in 1801. This offer was
declined, and William Coleman filled the place. Mr,
Dwight was elected a member of the State Coun-
^^Terrapm System,''^ was repealed — Dwight wrote the foUowiDg. It pre
tends to be a lyrical lament sung by the democrats at Washington, with
whom this system had been a great favorite.
BIEGICAL HTMN.
Moarn t sons of democratic -vvoe I
In sadness bow tbe bead :
Bend every back with sorrow low —
Foor TERRAPIN is dead.
And see his dying bed, ftround
Hiis weeping friends appear :
Low droops bis grandsire to the ground ;
His father drops a tear.
Old Clopton begs tbe twentieth god,
Th« victim's life to spare :
Calhoun and Johnson kiss the rod.
And Troup and Johnson swear.
Good old Long Tom stands sniveling by
His dying eyes to close ;
While Jemmy heaves a bitter sigh,
And wipes his mournful nose.
Let sharks exult with savage joy,
The wallowing porpoise spout:
No more his fangs tbeir peace annoy.
Nor dread their ribs bis snout
Mud-turtles, paddle at your ease
In every pond and pool ;
Te tadpoles, settle on your lees.
And in the slimeTbed cool.
Te British weavers, shout and sing;
Te tinkers, join the chorus ;
Cobblers and tailors, make a ring.
And dance a jig before ust
Tell old King George the glorious tale:
Amid his dire offences,
Perhaps 'twill light his visage pale,
And bring him to his senses.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 579
*
oil, and in 1806, a member of Congress. Soon
after he established the Connecticut Mirror, and
from that time followed the career of an editor.
He was secretary of the Hartford Convention in
1814. In 1815, he removed to Albany, and con
ducted the Albany Daily Advertiser: in 1817, he
The time will shortly come, when we
I Like Terrapin must wander;
And our poor eyes will nothing see
Bnt death's cold Gerrymander!
The ''Gerrymander" here alluded to, orJ,2inated in a division of Mas
sachusetts, by the democrats, in the time of Governor Gerry, into Con
gressional Districts, so as to give that party the ascendency. It was a
violent disregard of geographical and political propriety, and the federal
ists retaliated by having a huge monster — with tail and claws, resembling,
in outline, the state of Massachusetts, aa thus distorted — engraved and
circulated, with an exceedingly piquant natural history of the animal.
It took such effect that for a long time it gave a new word to the Amer
ican political vocabulary. It is said by Buckingham, that Gilbert Stuart,
the artist, suggested this clever caricature.
The foUowing will serve as a specimen of Mr. Dwight's New- Year's
Carrier's verses, which appeared annually, and acquired great popu
larity. This extract is from the Connecticut Mirror, January 6, 1818.
* * * * *
Survey our desolated shores,
Our gra«s-grown wharves and empty stores—
Our arts and indastry depress'd,
The wealthy cramp'd, the poor distressed:
Our cities wrapped in deepest gloom.
Our commerce buried in the tomb.
No hum of business meets tlie ear,
No songs of joy the bosom cheer;
The sailor hears the whistling blasts
Murmur through sullen groves of masts —
The billows dash, the useless sail
Flap mournful to the rising gale —
Then turns and views the dismal shed
Where his young offspring cry for bread.
And as the nightly breezes blow,
Curses the authors of his woe!
Naught but exterminating war
Could all this nation's blessings mar-
Naught but an arm of Vandal power

580 LETTERS — BIOGEAPHICAL,
established the Daily Advertiser in New York, of
which he was the chief editor till 1836, when he re
moved to Hartford. He afterward returned to New
York, where he died, in 1846.
Among the Hartford notables was Daniel Wads
worth, son of Col. Jeremiah Wadsworth, who had
The harvest of its hopes devour.
Where is that virtuous patriot band,
The pride, the bulwark of our land, '
Form'd to uphold the nation's sway—
Pinckney, and Strong, and King, and Jay —
Whose counsels might our country shield,
And guide our armies in the field?
By party zeal and passions base,
Exiled from power, and driven from placet
Who fill ilie void? What names succeed?
Bead the bright list — exult and read I
Alston and Johnson, Fisk, Desha,
Porter and Piper, Pond and Rhea,
Grundy, and Hufty, and Lefevre,
Sammons and Stow, and Shaw, and Seaver,
Newton, McCoy, McKim, McKee,
Bmilie, and Troup, and Widgery! —
And shall our nation's courage sink,
E'en on perdition's awful brink.
When snch a constellated train
Her highest interests sustJiin?
I lia\e already alluded to the " Hartford wits," of whom Mr. DwigJ'*.
waa one. Their reputation was chiefly founded upon a series of arti
cles which appeared in various papers, and were collected and published
in 1807, under the title of the Echo — including other pieces. They
consisted of satires, mostly in the form of parodies and burlesques —
with occasionai passages of a more serious character. They attracted
great attention at the time, and had a wholesome effect in curing the
public of a taste for ridiculous bombast, which then prevailed. The
principal writers were Mr. Dwight, his brother-in-law Eichard Alsop,
of Middletown, and Dr. Hopkins, of Hartford. Mr. Theodore Dwight,
now of New York, the son of the author I am noticing, has shown me
a volume in which the lines contributed by each of these persons are
marked, in the handwriting of his father. This suggests the manner
in which the whole was written — one composing a few stanzas, then
another taking the pen, and then another. The characteristics of each
of these several writers are clearly indicated, in compositions having a
general aspect of homogeneity.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 581
been a distinguished member of Congress. He had
traveled in Europe, and was not only a man of large
wealth, but he had a taste for literature and art. His
wife was daughter of the second Governor Trumbull,
and a very excellent example of the refined and dig
nified lady of the olden time. She had been at Phil-
I am indebted to Mr. Dwight for the following, which is copied
from a memorandum in his father's handwriting, in relation to the
Echo: " In the year 1829 a work was published in Boston, called ' Specimens of Amer
ican Poetry,' &c., by 8. Kettell. In a biographical sketch of Eichard Alsop, a
minute and circumstantial account is given by Mr, Kettell, and which has been
frequently referred to as a correct narrative of that publication. It seems no
more than an act of justice to individuals, that a true history of it should be
published. ''The first number of the Echo appeared in the American Mercury, at Hartford,
in August, 1791. It was written at Middletown, by Richard Alsop and Theodore
Dwight The authors, at the time of writing it, had no expectation of its being
published i their sole object was to amuse themselves, and a few of their personal
friends. The general account of its origin is given in the preface of the volume in
which the numbers were afterward collected, and published in New York. A few
lines in the conrse of it were written by three of their literary friends, viz. : Dr.
M. F. Coggeswell, Elihu H. Smith, and Lemuel Hopkins. Dr. Hopkins wrote
more than these two others; a. considerable part of ten numbers were by him.
With these exceptions, the entire work was the production of Messrs. Alsop and
Dwight. Judge Trumbull never wrote a line of it. Mr. Kettell's account is incor
rect in almost every essential particular.
"The 'Political Green-House' was written by Alsop, Hopkins, and Dwight, in
unequal proportions."
I think it may be remarked that, in these compositions, Dwight shows
the most brilliant fancy and playful wit, Alsop the broadest humor,
and Hopkins the most original and crushing satire. French Jacobin
ism, with all its brood of infidelity, radicalism, and licentiousness, is
the especial object of attack throughout, and is justly and unsparingly
ridiculed. Though Mr. Dwight is perhaps chiefly known as the author of satirical
verses, and as a somewhat severe though able political writer, he was in
private life one ofthe most pure, disinterested, and amiable of men. He
had an almost womanly sensibility to human sufi'ering; he was true to
friendship, and inflexibly devoted to what hc deemed the cause of truth,
honor, and patriotism. He furnishes an instance of what has often hap
pened before^, in which the literary man seems a vindictive satirist, while
the social man — friend, neighbor, father, husband — is full of the milk

582 LETTEES  BIOGKAPHICAL,
adelphia when her father was member of Congress,
and recited many interesting anecdotes of "Washing
ton and Hamilton, and other great men, whom she
had there seen. I was often at the, house, and here
frequently saw her "Uncle, Col. Trumbull, the artist,
with his European wife, about whom there was an
impenetrable mystery. She was a beautiful woman,
and of elegant manners: her features are well pre
served in her husband's portrait of her, in the Trum
bull Gallery, at Yale College. It was rumored that
she was the daughter of an English earl, but her
name and lineage were never divulged.*
of human kindness. He had great abilities, and only missed a perma
nent reputation by setting too Ught a value upon his performances, and
thus not bringing them up to a higher standard of criticism. He wrote
too much and too rapidly for lasting farae.
* Mr. Wadsworth was one of the few rich men who know how to
mate a good distribution of their wealth. His charities during his life
time were numerous, and bestowed with kindness and judgment. He
founded at Hartford the Wadsworth Atheneum, which is an interesting
and useful institution, including many antiquities, works of art, and a
valuable historical library.
Among the interesting objects connected with the city of Hartford,
is his country-seat on Talcott's mountain — embracing a lake, a tower,
and other attractions. The situation is beautiful, and the whole is taste
fully arranged. To the west of it Ues the vaUey of Farmington river,
exhibiting a varied landscape of winding streams, swelling hills, and
cultivated fields, all seen through the enchanting azute of distance. To
he east is the Connecticut, rolling proudly through its borders, crowned
^ith the richest cultivation, and dotted with towns and villages, pre-
.¦enting some thirty spires in a single view.
The scene presented to the eye from the top of this tower — which rises
seventy feet above its platform, situated upon a high point of rock — is
indeed unrivaled. The immediate objects beneath— the tasteful viUa,
the quiet lake, and, rising up from its shores —
"Eocks, mounds, and knolls, confusedly hurled.
The fVagments of an earlier world" —
suggesting a resemblance to the wild borders of Looh Katrine, oonsti-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 583
It was, I believe, through Mr. Wadsworth's influence
that Miss Huntly, now Mrs. Sigourney, was induced
to leave her home in Norwich, and make Hartford
her residence. This occurred about the year 1814.
Noiselessly and gracefully she glided into our young
social circle, and ere long was its presiding genius.
I shall not write her history, nor dilate upon her lit
erary career — for who does not know them both by
heart ? Yet I may note her influence in this new re
lation — a part of which fell upon myself Mingling
in the gayeties of our social gatherings, and in no re
spect clouding their festivity, she led us all toward
intellectual pursuits and amusements. We had even
a literary cotery under her inspiration, its first meet
ings being held at Mr. Wadsworth's. I believe one of
my earliest attempts at composition was made here.
The ripples thus begun, extended over the whole
surface of our young society, producing a lasting and
refining effect. It could not but be beneficial thus to
mingle in intercourse with one who has the angelic
faculty of seeing poetry in all things, and good every
where. Few persons living have exercised a wider
influence, than Mrs. Sigourney ; no one that I now
know, can look back upon a long and earnest career
of such unblemished beneficence.

tute a rare assemblage of beautiful and striking groups. It is sad to
reflect that "lands and manors pass away," yet it is oonsoUng to kuow
that others live to enjoy them. Mr. Wadsworth is gone— but it gives me
pleasure to state that my old friend, D. "W., a thriving manufacturer of
axes, Is his successor.

584 LETTEES — ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
In the immediate vicinity of Mr. Wadsworth, lived
Dr.. Coggeswell, a renowned surgeon and excellent
physician. He was, withal, a man of refined tastes,
and exceedingly easy and gracious address. In early
life he had been associated with the "Hartford wits,"
and occasionally wrote verses, though more frequently
of the sentimental than the satirical kind. His daugh
ter, Alice, was deaf and dumb, if we speak of the ear
and the lip ; yet her soul heard and spoke in her eyes
and her countenance. She excited universal interest
by her sweetness of character, manners, and appear
ance ; she was, in truth, an eloquent and persuasive
lecturer upon the language, and beauty, and immor
tality of the soul — that lives above and beyond the
senses. Mr. Gallaudet, the founder of the Deaf and Dumb
Asylum at Hartford, was a person of very diminutive
stature, with a smooth, placid physiognomy — irradia
ted, however, by a remarkably large, expressive eye,
rolling at you over his spectacles. Of a frail and,
feeble constitution, and a mind of no great compass,
he still possessed two faculties which rendered his
career glorious. He had a clearness and precision in
his perceptions, which rendered his mental opera
tions almost as exact and certain as the movements
of mechanism. It was this which enabled him to
master the elements of the art of teaching the deaf
and dumb, and to carry that art — in its uses as well
as its philosophy — greatly beyond its condition wheu

HISTOEICAL, AIJECDOTIOAL, ETC. 585
he entered upon it. This principle in the head was
impelled to action by another in the heart — a deep
conviction that it was his duty to be useful to his
fellow-men. It is pleasing to observe how wide and
ample a field may be harvested by a good man, even
though he may not be a giant or a genius !
I must here tell you an anecdote still fresh in my
recollection. When President Monroe made his tour
through the New-England States, in the summer of
1817, the asylum was a novelty, and naturally enough
was the pride of the good citizens of Hartford. Of
course, the President was invited to see the perform
ances of the new institution. He was scarcely out of
his carriage, and delivered from the noise and confu
sion of his reception — for all the world turned out to
see him — before he was hurried down to the place
where the school was then kept.
A high central platform was prepared, like a
throne, for the great man, and here he took his seat.
Around were the spectators; on one side was Mr.
Gallaudet, and Mr. Clere, the well-known deaf and
dumb professor from the school of the Abbe Sicard,
in Paris. Mr. Gallaudet was a man of admirable ad
dress, and all being ready, he said to the President,
in his smooth, seductive way —
"If your Excellency will be so kind as to ask some
question, I will repeat it to Mr. Clere on my fingers,
and he will write an answer on the slate, to show the
manner and facility of conversation by signs."

586 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
The President, who was exceedingly jaded by hia
journey, looked obfuscated ; but he changed the
position of his legs, showing a consciousness of the
question, and then fell into a very brown study.
Everybody expected something profound — equal to
the occasion, and worthy of the chief magistrate ol
the greatest nation on the face of the globe. We
waited a long time, every minute seeming an hour,
through our impatience. At last it became awkward,
and Mr. Gallaudet insinuated—
" If your Excellency will be so kind as to ask some
question, I will repeat it on my fingers to Mr. Clere,
and he will write an answer on the slate, to show the
manner and facility of conversing by signs."
The President again changed the position of his
legs, and again meditated. We all supposed he was
at the very bottom of the abyss of philosophy, hunt
ing up some most profound and startling interroga
tion. Expectation was on tiptoe ; every eye was
leveled at the oracular bps, aboat to utter the amaz
ing proposition. Still, he only meditated. A long
time passed, and the impatience became agonizing.
Again Mr. Gallaudet, seeming to fear that the great
man was going to sleep, roused him by repeating his
request. The President at last seemed conscious ; his
eye twinkled, his lips moved, sounds issued from his
mouth —
"Ask him — how old he is!" — was the profound
suggestion.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 587

LETTER XXXVL
Dr. Percival — His early Life — Ms Father's attempt to cure his Skymss —
OoUege Life— His First Love— His Medical Ej^rieiioe—His Poetical Can
reer.

Mt seae 0 ***** *
I am glad to find, by your recent letter, that you
approve of my hasty sketches of the men I have seen
and known — even though they are not all of that
general celebrity which creates, in advance, an inter
est in their behalf. No doubt the portrait of a man,
whose renown has filled our ears, is more gratifying
than one which merely presents the lineaments of an
unknown, unheard-of individual. Yet every picture
which is life-like — which possesses an obvious veri-
sinxilitude— is pleasing, especially if it seems to repre
sent a type of some class of men, which we have seen
in life. It is mainly upon this principle that the ficti
tious heroes and heroines of romance, interest us as
deeply as even the celebrities of history. As I describe
things I have seen, I hope my delineations may have
so much seeming truth as to amuse you, even though
they possess only that interest which attaches to all
true pictures of humanity, I say this, not as an in-

588 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
troduction, especially suited to this chapter, for I am
now going to speak of names that are familiar to you :
I make these reflections upon your letter, only as a
precaution against any criticisms you may offer upon
the less pretentious miniatures scattered through these
pages. The news comes, even while I write, that Percival,
the poet, is dead ! Yes — one by one, those I have
known and cherished, are falling around me. Pew
of my early acquaintances are left, and I am but a lin
gerer among the graves of early friendship and love!
James Gates Percival was a native of Berlin,* the
residence of my family, and I knew him well. His
father was a physician — a man of ability, and of res
olute and energetic character. His mother was by
nature of a susceptible and delicate organization, and
she seems to have imparted to her son these qualities,
with a tendency to excessive mental development.
He early manifested a morbid shyness and shrink
ing sensitiveness, which his father sought to cure by
harsh measures. On one occasion he put the child
behind him on horseback, and rode into the thickest
of a sham fight, during a regimental muster. The
result was, that the boy was almost thrown into con
vulsions. Dr. Percival died when James was still young, and

* Berlin consists of three parishes — Worthington, where my father
resided. New Britain, and Kensington. The latter was Peroival's birth
place.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 589
after a time his mother married a respectable farmer of
the village by the name of Porter. The young Perci
val made extraordinary progress in his studies, but was
little understood by those around him. He entered col
lege at the age of sixteen, and speedily attracted atten
tion by his acquisitions and his compositions. At this
period he was often at my father's house, in Berlin, and
being subject to paroxysms of great depression of spir
its, he deeply excited the interest of my mother. Al
though, on the whole, he pursued his education with
avidity and ambition, yet he often wandered forth in
lonesome places, nursing a moody melancholy, and
at one period, he actually contemplated suicide. Erom
this he was diverted — mainly, I believe, by my moth
er's timely counsel and other kindly of&ces.
About this time he was frequently in the society
of a beautiful and accomplished young lady of the
neighborhood ; he botanized with her in the fields,
and poetized with her in the library, and at last he
thought himself in love. Months thus ran pleasantly
on, when one day he made up his mind to give her
a delicate hint of his condition. He did so, I believe,
in verse. The young lady replied in plain prose,
that she was engaged, and was speedily to be mar
ried ! The poet came to the conclusion that this was
a deceitful world, and wrote Byronic verses. In 1820
he published a volume of poems, including the first
part of his Prometheus.
Having studied medicine, he went to South Caro-

590 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
lina the same year, and established himself at Charles
ton, as a physician. He told me afterward, that, at
the end of some months, he had one patient, afflicted
with sore lips. He prescribed a dose of salts, gratis,
and this was a pretty fair example of his practice.
" I had got my name up for writing verses," said
he, " and found myself ruined."
"How so?" said I.
" When a person is really ill, he will not send for
a poet to cure him," was his answer.
Having little else before him, he directed his at
tention to literature, and published the first number
of his Clio, 1822. Soon after, he returned to the
North, and produced some miscellanies in prose and
verse. At this period, he had excited a deep interest
in the public mind, as well by his writings as his
somewhat eccentric life and manners. The melan
choly which pervaded his poetry, with fugitive pieces
of great feeling and tenderness, together with a certain
wildness in his air and manner, rendered him an ob
ject of general curiosity, and in many cases of deep
sympathy. Of all this he seemed unconscious, and
walked the world like one who neither accepted nor
desired its friendship.
By the time he was twenty, he began to stand
aloof from his fellow- man. I think he had been deep
ly injured — nay ruined — by the reading of Byron's
works, at that precise age when his soul was in all

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 591
the sensitive bloom of spring, and its killing frost of
atheism, of misanthropy, of pride, and scorn, fell upon
it, and converted it into a scene of desolation. The
want of a genial circle of appreciation, of love and
friendship, around his early life, left this malign influ
ence to deepen his natural shyness into a positive and
habitual self-banishment from his fellow-man. • Such
is the sad interpretation I put upon his career.*

LETTER XXXVII.
A few -Wayside Notes — The Poet Brainard — His first Introduction — Rip
ley's Tavern — Aunt I/ucy — The Uttle back-parhr — Brainard's Office—
Anecdote — The Devil's Dun — The Lines on Niagara — Other Poems.

Mt dear C ***** *
I have told you that in the autumn of 1823 I
set out to visit Europe ; but a few previous events
are needful to bring my narrative to that epoch. In
1821, clouds and darkness began to gather around my
path. By a fall from a horse, I was put upon crutches
* The notice of Dr. Percival in Kettell's Specimens of American
Poets, was written at my request by Eev. Eoyal Eobbins, of Kensing
ton parish, Berlin, iu which the poet lived. It is a beautifuland just
appreciation of his character at that time. I know of no person so com
petent as he to give the world a biography of Percival. He is familiar
with the details of his whole career, and especially with the earlier por
tions of his life, and is, moreover, master of all the qualifications requi
site to give interest and value to snch a work

593

LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,

for more than a year, and a cane for the rest of my
life. Ere long death entered my door, and my home
was desolate. I was once more alone — save only that
a child was left me, to grow to womanhood, and to
die a youthful mother, loving and beloved* — ^leaving
an infant soon to follow her to the tomb. My affairs
became embarrassed, my health failed, and my only
hope of renovation was in a change of scene.

*¦ Sweet Spirit passed I 'Tis not for thee
Our bitter tears unmeasured flow —
Thy path to Heaven is traced, but we.
With grieving heart, must writhe below 1
We mourn thy lost yet loving tone.
That made endearing names more dear.
And touched with music all its own
The warm fond hearts that clustered near.
We mourn thy form — thy spirit bright.
Which shone so late mid bridal flowers —
And yet could pour angelic light
Across the last tempestuous hours 1
We mourn for thee — so sudden-flown,
When least we thought from thee to sever —
As if some star we deemed our own.
At brightest hour had set forever 1
Unpitying Fate I thy dark designs
Can spare the weary, wasted, bent.
Yet crush the fairest thing that shines
Where peace and joy have pitched their tentl
Could not the youthful mother claira
Exemption from thy stern decree ?
Could not the ohild that lisped her name.
Extort one pitying tear from theo ?
Ah, human woes are not thy care I
The lightning, in its plunge of wrath,
Turns not, with heedful thought, to spare
The buzzing insect in its path I

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 593
But before I give you a sketch of my experience
and observations abroad, I must present one portrait
more — that of my friend Brainard.* He came to
Hartford in February, 1822, to take the editorial
charge of the Connecticut Mirror — Mr. Stone, as I
have stated, having left it a short time before. He
was now twenty-six years old, and had gained some
reputation for wit and poetical talent. One day a
young man, small in stature, with a curious mixture
of ease and awkwardness, of humor and humility,
came into my ofSice, and introduced himself as Mr.
Brainard. I gave him a hearty welcome, for I had
heard very pleasant accounts of him. As was natu
ral, I made a complimentary allusion to his poems,
Eorgive us. Heaven ! if thus we mourn
The lost on earth — the blest above —
So rudely from our bosom torn,
With all its clinging ties of love 1
One bright, blest spot of sunshine played
Upon the landscape's varied breast —
Yet there the clouds have cast their shade
And there the deepest shadows rest 1
* John Gardiner Caulkins Brainard was the youngest son of Jeremiah
G. Brainard, of New London, judge ofthe supreme court, whom I have
already mentioned iu the history of my military adventures in 1813. His
two elder brothers, WilUam F., a lawyer, and Dyer, a physician, were
both men of wit and learning ; the first died some years since, the latter
is StiU living. John, of whom I now write, was born in 1795, educated
at Yale, prepared for the law, and settled at Middletown 1819. He died
at New London, in 1828. The portrait of him in Messrs. Duyckincks'
" Cyclopsedia of American Literature," is from au engraving in thc
Token for 1830, and that is taken from a miniature I had painted o;
him, by our mutual friend, Tisdale. It was from recoUection, but give*
a pretty good idea of the sad yet humorous, boyish yet manly, counte
nance of the original.

594 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
which I had seen and admired. A smile, yet shaded
with something of melancholy, came over his face, as
he replied —
" Don't expect too much of me ; I never succeeded
in any thing yet. I never could draw a mug of cider
without spilling more than half of it!"
I afterward found that much truth was thus spoken
in jest : this was, in point of fact, precisely Brain
ard's appreciation of himself. All his life, feeling
that he could do something, he still entertained a
mournful and disheartening conviction that, on the
whole, he was doomed to failure and disappoint
ment. There was sad prophecy in this presentiment
—a prophecy which he at once made and fulfilled.
"We soon became friends, and at last intimates.
I was now boarding at " Ripley's" — a good old
fashioned tavern, over which presided Major Rip
ley, respected for revolutionary services, an amiable
character, and a long Continental queue. In the
administration of the establishment he was ably
supported by his daughter, Aunt Lucy — the very
genius of tavern courtesy, cookery, and comfort.
Here Brainard joined me, and we took our rooms
side by side. Thus for more than a year we were
together, as intimate as brothers. He was of a child
like disposition, and craved constant sympathy. He
soon got into the habit of depending upon me in
many things, and at last — especially in dull weather,
or when he was sad, or something went wrong with

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 595
bim — he crept into my bed, as if it was his right.
At that period of gloom in my own fortunes, this
was as well a solace to me as to him. After my re
turn from Europe we resumed these relations, and for
some months more we were thus together.
Brainard's life has been frequently written. The
sketch of him in Kettell's " Specimens," I furnished,
soon after his death. Mr. Eobbins, of Berlin, wrote
a beautiful biographical memoir of him for Hopkins'
edition of his poems, published at Hartford, in 1842.
A more elaborate notice of his life, character, and
genius, had been given in Whittier's edition of his
" Remains," 1832. To this just and feeling memoir,
by a kindred spirit — one every way qualified to ap
preciate and to illustrate his subject — I have now
nothing to add, except a few personal recollections —
such as were derived from my long intercourse and
intimacy with him.
Perhaps I cannot do better than to begin at once,
and give you a sketch of a single incident, which will
reflect light upon many others. The-scene opens in
Miss Lucy's little back-parlor — a small, cozy, carpet
ed room, with two cushioned rocking-chairs, and a
bright hickory fire. It is a chill November night,
about seven o'clock of a Friday evening. The Mirror
— Brainard's paper — is to appear on the morning of
the morrow, it being a weekly sheet, and Saturday its
day of publication. The week has thus far passed,
and he has not written for it a line. How the days

596 LETTERS — BIOGEAPHICAL,
have gone he can hardly tell. He has read a little —
dipped into Byron, pored over the last Waverley
novel, and been to see his friends ; at all events, he
had got rid of the time. He has not felt competent
to bend down to his work, and has put it off till the
last moment. No further delay is possible. He is
now not well ; he has a cold, and this has taken the
shape of a swelling of the tonsils, almost amounting
to quinsy, as was usual with him in such attacks.
Miss Lucy, who takes a motherly interest in him,
tells him not to go out, and his own inclinations sug
gest the charms of a quiet evening in the rocking-
chair, by a good fire — especially in comparison with
going to his comfortless ofiice, and drudging for the
inky devils of the press. He lingers till eight, and
then suddenly rousing himself, by a desperate effort,
throws on his cloak and sallies forth. As was not
uncommon, I go with him. A dim fire is kindled
in the small Franklin stove in his ofBce, and we sit
down. Brainard, as was his wont, especially when
he was in trouble, falls into a curious train of reflec
tions, half comic and half serious.
" "Would to heaven," he says, " I were a slave. I
think a slave, with a good master, has a good time
of it. The responsibility of taking care of himself—
the most terrible burden of life — is put on his mas
ter's shoulders. Madame Roland, with a slight altera
tion, would have uttered a profound truth. She
should have said — ¦' Oh, liberty, liberty, thou art a

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 597
humbug !' After all, liberty is the greatest possible
slavery, for it puts upon a man the responsibility of
taking care of himself. If he goes wrong — why he's
damned ! If a slave sins, he's only flogged, and gets
over it, and there's an end of it. Now, if I could
only be flogged, and settle the matter that way, I
should be perfectly happy. But here comes my tor
mentor." The door is now opened, and a boy with a touseled
head and inky countenance, enters, saying curtly —
" Copy, Mr. Brainard !"
" Come in fifteen minutes !" says the editor, with a
droll mixture of fun and despair.
Brainard makes a few observations, and sits down
at his little narrow pine table — hacked along the edges
with many a restless penknife. He seems to notice
these marks, and pausing a moment, says —
" This table reminds me of one of my brother "Wil
liam's stories. There was an old man in Groton, who
had but one child, and she was a daughter. "When
she was about eighteen, several young men came to
see her. At last she picked out one of them, and
desired to marry him. He seemed a fit match enough,
but the father positively refused his consent. For a
long time he persisted, and would give no reason for
his conduct. At last, he took his daughter aside, and
said — ' Now, Sarah, I think pretty well of this young
man in general, but I've observed that he's given to
whittling. There's no harm ih that, but the point

598 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
is this : he whittles and whittles, and never makes
nothing ! Now I tell you, I'll never give my only
daughter to such a feller as that !' Whenever BiU
told this story, he used to insinuate that this whit
tling chap, who never made any thing, was me ! At
any rate, I think it would have suited me, exactly."
Some time pas-sed in similar talk, when at last
Brainard turned suddenly, took up his pen and be
gan to write. I sat apart, and left him to his work.
Some twenty minutes passed, when, with a radiant
smile on his face, he got up, approached the fire, and
taking the candle to light his paper, read as follows :
"the FALL OP NIAGARA.
" The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain,
While I look upward to thee. It would seem
As if God poar'd thee from his ' hollow hand,'
And hung his bow upon thy awful front ;
And spoke in that loud voice that seem'd to him
"Who dwelt in Patmos for his Saviour's sake,
' The sound of many waters ;' and had bade
Thy flood to chronicle the ages back.
And notch his cent'ries in the eternal rooks !"
He had hardly done reading, when the boy came.
Brainard handed him the lines — on a small scrap of
rather coarse paper — and told him to come again in
half an hour. Before this time had elapsed, he had
finished, and read me the following stanza :
" Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we,
That hear the question'of that voice sublime ?

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 599
Oh ! what are all the notes that ever rung
From war's vain trumpet by thy thundering side ?
Yea, what is all the riot man can make.
In his short life, to thy unceasing roar ?
And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him
"Who drown'd a world, and heap'd the waters far
Above its loftiest mountains ? A light wave.
That breathes and whispers of its Maker's might."
These lines having been furnished, Brainard left
his ofiice, and we returned to Miss Lucy's parlor. He
seemed utterly unconscious of what he had done. I
praised the verses, but he thought I only spoke warm
ly from friendly interest. The lines went forth, and
produced a sensation of delight over the whole coun
try. Almost every exchange paper that came to the
office had extracted them : even then he would scarce
believe that he had done any thing very clever. And
thus, under these precise circumstances, were com
posed the most suggestive and sublime stanzas upon
Niagara, that were ever penned. Brainard had never,
as he told me, been within less than five hundred
miles of'the cataract, nor do I believe, that when he
went to the office, he had meditated upon the sub
ject. It was one of those inspirations which come to
the poet — and often come like the lightning — in the
very midst of clouds and darkness.
You will readily see, from the circumstances I have
mentioned, that I knew the history of most of Brain
ard's pieces, as they came out, from time to time, in
his newspaper. Nearly all of them were occasional

600 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
— that is, suggested by passing events or incidents in
the poet's experience. The exquisite lines beginning,
" The dead leaves strew the forest walk.
And wither'd are the pale wild-flowers" —
appeared a few days after he had taken leave of a
young lady from Savannah, who had spent a month
at our hotel, and had left an impression upon his sen
sitive heart, which the lines, mournful and touching
as they are, only reveal to those who witnessed his
emotions. Many were struck off in the extreme exi
gencies of the devil's dun — his very claws upon him.
In these cases, he doubtless resorted to the treasures
of his mind, which seems to have been largely stored
with the scenery of his native State, and the legends
connected with them. Two elements, in nearly equal
proportion, seemed to fill his soul — the humorous and
the sublime — and often in such contiguity, or even
mixture, as to heighten the effect of each — this, how-
3ver, being more noticeable in his conversation than
his writings.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. COI

LETTER XXXVIII.
Uy first Voyage across the Atlantic — England — London — My Tour on the
Continent — Return to England — Visit to Barley -Wood — Hannah More
— Inquiries as to Books for Education — Ireland — Dublin — The Giant's
CoMseway — Scotland — Scenery of the Lady of the Lake— Glasgow — Ed
inburgh,
Mt deak Q******
It was, as I have already told you, on the 16th
of November, 1823, that I set sail in the Canada,
Captain Macy, on my first visit to Europe. I have
now before me four volumes of notes made during my
tour; but be not alarmed — I shall not inflict them
upon you. I might, perhaps, have ventured to pub
lish them when they were fresh, but since that period
the world has been inundated with tales of travels.
I shall therefore only give you a rapid outline of my
adventures, and a few sketches of men and things,
which may perchance interest you.
Our voyage was — as usual at that season of the
year — tempestuous. As we approached the British
Islands, we were beset by a regular hurricane. On
the 5th of December, the captain kindly informed us
that we were almost precisely in the situation of the
Albion,* the day before she was wrecked on the rocky
* The Albion was a packet ship plying between New York and Liv
erpool. She sailed from the former port April 1, 1822, and went ashore
on the 22d of the same month. She had twenty-four seamen and
twenty-eight passengers : soven of the former and two of the latter,
only, were saved.

602 LETTEES  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
headland of Kinsale — at the southeast extremity of
Ireland — an event which had spread general gloom
throughout the United States. As night set in, we
were struck with a squall, and with difficulty the ves
sel was brought round, so as to lie to. The storm was
fearful, and the frequent concussions ofthe waves upon
the ship, sounding like reports of artillery, made her
reel and stagger like a drunken man. The morning
came at last, and the weather was fair, but our deck
was swept of its boats, bulwarks, and hen-coops. Our
old cow in her hovel, the covering of the steerage,
and that of the companion-way, were saved. We
had, however, some gratis sea-bathing in our berths
— terribly suggestive of the chill temperature of that
abyss which might soon be our grave. The next
morning we took a pilot, and on the Sth of December
entered the dock at Liverpool.
As this was my first experience at sea, I beg you
to forgive this brief description. I had suffered fear
fully 'by sea-sickness, and had scarce strength to walk

Among the persons lost was Alexander W. Fisher, Professor of Math
ematics in Yale CoUege. He was a young man — twenty-eight years old
—of fine genius, and great expectations were entertained as to his future
achievements. A person who escaped from the wreck, whom I chanced
to meet, told me that the last he saw of Mr. Fisher, he was in his berth
with a pocket-compass in his hand, watching the course of the vessel.
A moment after she strack, and he saw him no more.
The ship went to pieces on the rocks, in face of high perpendicular
oliifs. The people of the neighborhood rendered all possible assistance,
but their efi'orts were but partially successful. The struggles ofthe suf
ferers, dinging to ropes, yards, and points ofthe rocks, in the very sight
of persons on shore, wore fearful, und the details given of these scenes,
rendered the event one of the most agonizing on record.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICALj ETC. 603
ashore. I felt such horror — such disgust of the sea,
that I could easily have pledged myself never to ven
ture upon it again. Strange to say, this all passed
awey like a dream : my strength revived, and even
my constitution, shattered by long suffering, seemed
to be renovated. With the return of health and spir
its, my journey to London seemed like a triumphal
march. Though it was December, the landscape was
iijtensely green, while the atmosphere was dark as
twilight. The canopy of heaven seemed to have
come half way down, as if the sky had actually be
gun to fall. Yet this was England ! Oh, what emo
tions filled my breast as I looked on Kenilworth,
Warwick, and Litchfield, and at last on London !
I remained at the latter place about a month, and
then went to Paris. In April I departed, and visit
ing Switzerland, and a portion of Germany, followed
the Rhine to Cologne. Thence I traveled through
Flanders and Holland, and taking a sloop at Rotter
dam, swung down the Maese, and in May reached
London, by way of the Thames.
I soon after departed for Bristol — taking the re
nowned cathedral at Salisbury and the Druidical ruin
of Stonehenge in my way. Having reached that city
and seen its sights, I hired a post-coach, and went to
Barley- wood — some ten miles distant. Hannah More
was still there ! The house consisted of a small thatch
ed edifice — half cottage and half villa — tidily kept,
and garnished with vines and trellices, giving it a

604 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
cheerful and even tasteful appearance. Its site was on
a gentle hill, sloping to the southeast, and command
ing a charming view over the undulating country
around, including the adjacent village of Wrington,
with a wide valley sloping to the Bay of Bristol — the
latter sparkling in the distance, and bounded by the
Welch mountains, in the far horizon. Behind the
house, and on the crown of the hill, was a small copse,
threaded with neat gravel walks, and at particular
points embellished with objects of interest. In one
place there was a little rustic temple, with this mottO' — •
A-udi Hospes, contemnei-e opes ; in another, there was a
stone monument, erected to the memory of Bishop
Porteus, who had been a particular friend of the pro
prietor of the place. A little further on, I found an
other monument, with this inscription : "To John
Locke, horn in this viUage, this monument is erected by
Mrs. Montague, and presented io Hannah More." From
this sequesteredr spot, an artificial opening was cut
through the foliage of the trees, giving a view of the
very house — about a mile distant — in which Locke
was born ! In another place was a small temple built
of roots, which might have served for the shrine ol'
some untamed race of Dryads.
Mrs. More was now seventy-nine years of age,* and
* H.innah More was born at Stapleton, in 1744. She and her sisters
established a boarding-school in this village, but afterward it was re
moved to Bristol, and became very successful. Hannah More early be
came a writer, and at the age of seventeen, she published a pastoral
drama, entitled " Search after Happiness." Being intimate with Gar--

605
was very infirm, having kept her room for two years.
She was.small, and wasted away. Her attire was of
dark-red bombazine, made loose like a dressing-gown.
Her eyes were black and penetrating, her face glow
ing with cheerfulness, through a lace-work of wrin
kles. Her head-dress was a modification of the coif
fure of her earlier days — the hair being slightly friz
zed, and lightly powdered, yet the whole group of
moderate dimensions.
She received me with great cordiality, and learn
ing that I was from Hartford, immediately inquired
about Mrs. Sigourney, Mr. Gallaudet, and Alice Coggs
weU : of the latter she spoke with great interest. She
mentioned several Americans who had visited her, and
others with whom she had held correspondence. Her
mind and feelings were alive to every subject that was
suggested. She spoke very freely of her writings and
her career. I told her of the interest I had taken,
when a child, in the story of the Shepherd of Salis
bury Plain, upon which she recounted its history,
remarking that the character of the hero was mod
eled from life, though the incidents were fictitious.
Her tract, called "Village Politics, by Will Chip,"
'was written at the request of the British Ministry,
rick, she wrote several plays, which were performed. Afterward she
regretted these works, her new religious views leading her to condemn
the stage. She amassed a handsome fortune, and purchasing Barley-
wood, she fitted it up as I have described it. Soon after I was there,
in consequence of the frauds of her servants, her means were so di
minished, that she was obliged to leave it. She removed to Clifton,
near Bristol, and died September, 1S33.

606 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
and two million copies were sold the first year. She
showed me copies of Coelebs in Search of a Wife —
the most successful of her works — in French and
German, and a copy of one of her sacred dramas —
"Moses in the Ballrushes" — on palm-leaves, in the
Cingalese tongue — it having been translated into that
language by the missionary school at Ceylon. She
showed me also the knife with which the leaf had
been prepared, and the scratches made in it to receive
the ink. She expressed 'a warm interest in America,
and stated that Wilberforce had always exerted him
self to establish and maintain good relations between
Great Britain and our country. I suggested to her
that in the United States, the general impression —
that of the great mass of the people — was that the
English were unfriendly to us. She said it was not
so. I replied that the Americans all read the Eng
lish newspapers, and generally, the products of the
British press ; that feelings of dislike, disgust, ani
mosity, certainly pervaded most of these publications,
and it was natural to suppose that these were the
reflections of public opinion in Great Britain. At all
events, our people regarded them as such, and hence
inferred that England was our enemy. She express
ed great regret at this state of things, and said all
good people should strive to keep peace between the
two countries : to all which I warmly assented.
My interview with this excellent lady was, on the
whole, most gratifying. Regarding her as one of the

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 607
greatest benefactors of the age — as, indeed, one of the
most remarkable women that had ever lived — I look
ed upon her not only with veneration but affection.
She was one of the chief instruments by which the
torrent of vice and licentiousness, emanating from
the French Revolution and inundating the British
Islands, was checked and driven back : she was even,
to a great extent, the permanent reformer of British
morals and manners, as well among the high as the
humble. And besides, I felt that I owed her a special
debt, and my visit to her was almost like a pilgrim
age to the shrine of a divinity. When I left Amer
ica, I had it in mind to render my travels subservient
to a desire I had long entertained of making a reform
— or at least an improvement — in books for youth. I
had made researches in London, France, and Ger
many, for works that might aid my design. It is true
I had little success, for while scientific and classical ed
ucation was sedulously encouraged on the continent
as well as in England, it seemed to be thought, either
that popular education was not a subject worthy of
attention, or that Dilworth and Mothei Goose had
done all that could be done. In this interview with
the most successful and most efficient teacher of the
age, I had' the subject still in mind; and discerning
by what she had accomplished, the vast field that was
open, and actually inviting cultivation, I began from
this time to think of attempting to realize the project
I had formed. It is true that, in some respects, iixe.

COS LETTEES — BIOGRAPHICAL,
example I had just contemplated was different from
my own scheme. Hannah More had written chiefly
for the grown-up masses ; I had it in contemplation to
begin further back — witli the children. Her means,
however, seemed adapted to my purpose : her suc
cess, to encourage my attempt. She had discovered
that truth could be made attractive to simple minds.
Fiction was, indeed, often her vehicle, but it was not
her end. The great charm of these works which
had captivated the million, was their verisimilitude.
Was there not, then, a natural relish for truth in
all minds, or at least was there not a way of pre
senting it, which made it even more interesting than
romance ? Did not children love truth ? If so,
was it necessary to feed them on fiction ? Could not
history, natural history, geography, biography, be
come the elements of juvenile works, in place of fai
ries and giants, and mere monsters of the imagina
tion ? These were the inquiries that from this time
filled my mind.
Taking leave of Barley-wood and its interesting
occupant, I traversed Wales, and embarking at Ho
lyhead, passed over to Ireland. Having seen Dublin,
with the extraordinary contrasts of sumptuousness in
some of its streets and edifices, with the fearful squalid-
ness and poverty in others — I passed on to the North.
Having taken a wondering view of the Giants' Cause
way, I returned to Belfast, embarked in a steamboat,
and went over to Greenock. Thence I proceeded

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 609
toward Dumbarton, and in the early evening, as I ap
proached the town in a small steamer, I actually real
ized, in the distance before me, the scene ofthe song —
" The sun has gone down behind lofty Ben Lomond,
And left the red clouds to preside o'er the scene.''
' On the morrow I went to Loch Lomond, crossing
Jhe lake in a steamboat ; thence on foot to Callender,
and spent two days around Loch Katrine, amid the
scenery of the Lady of the Lake. With a copy of
that poem in my hand, which I had bought of a peas
ant on the borders of Loch Lomond, I easily traced
out the principal landmarks of the story : " Ellen's
Isle," nearly in the middle of the lake ; on the north
ern shore, " the Silver Strand," where the maiden
met Fitz James ; far to the east, Benain, rearing its
" forehead fair" to the sky ; to the south, the rocky
pyramid called " Roderick's Watch-tower ;" and still
beyond, the " Goblin's Cave." Leaving the lake, I
passed through the Trosachs, a wild rocky glen, and
the scene of the most startling events in the poem.
At last I came to Coilantogle Ford, where the deadly
struggle took place between the two heroes of the
poem — Roderick and Fitz James. Finally, I went
to the borders of Loch Achray — a placid sheet of
water — beautiful by nature, but still more enchant
ing through the delightful associations of poetic art.
" The minstrel came once more to view
The eastern ridge of Benvenue,

610 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
For ere he parted he would say,
Farewell to lovely Looh Achray.
"Where shall he find, in foreign land.
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand !"
'P "1^ f^ 'I' T
But I must forbear. I have pledged myself not
to weary you with descriptions of scenery, and espe
cially with that which is familiar to you in twenty
books of travels. Forgive me this instance of weak
ness, and I will try not to sin again — at least till I
get out of Scotland. Having spent two days in this
region of poetry and romance, I left for Glasgow, and
at last reached Edinburgh.

LETTER XXXIX.
Edinburgh — The Court of Sessions — Cranstoun, Cockburn, Moncrief—
Lockhart — Jeffrey— Sir 'Walter Scott.
My dear 0 ***** *
Think of being in Edinburgh, and Scott, Jeffrey,
Chalmers, Dugald Stuart, Lockhart, there I It was
then decidedly the literary metropolis of the Three
Kingdoms — not through the amount of its produc
tions, but their superiority. The eloquent, sparkling,
trenchant Edinburgh Review was the type of Scot--
tish genius ; the heavy Quarterly represented Lon
don. I had several letters of introduction — among

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 611
them one to Blackwood, another to Constable, an
other to Miss Y  The latter proved fortunate.
Her father was a Writer to the Signet — an elderly
gentleman of excellent position, and exceedingly fond
of showing off " Auld Reekie." Well indeed might
he be, for of all the cities I have seen, it is, in many
respects, the most interesting. I am told it is gloomy
in winter, but now it was the zenith of spring. The
twilight did not wholly disappear till twelve, and the
dawn was visible at one. If nature, in these high
latitudes, falls into a harsh and savage humor in win
ter, it makes ample amends in summer.
The very day after delivering my letters, Mr. Y . . . .
called on me, and showed me the lions of the town.
Many of them, all indeed, were interesting, but I pass
them by, and shall only linger a short time at the
Court of Sessions, which is the supreme civil court
of Scotland. This, with the High Court of Justi-
tiary — the supreme criminal court — forms the Col
lege of Justice, and constitutes the supreme judicial
system of Scotland. Their sessions are held in the
old Parliament House, situated in the center of the
Old Town.
We entered a large Gothic hall, opening, as I ob
served, into various contiguous apartments. Here I
saw a considerable number of persons, mostly law
yers and their clients — some sauntering, some medi
tating — some gathered in groups and conversing
together. I noticed that many of the former, and

612 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
more especially the older members of the bar, wore
gowns and wigs ; others wore gowns only, and still
others were in the ordinary dress. I afterward was
told that it was wholly at the option of individuals to
adopt this costume, or not ; in general, it was regard
ed as going out of fashion. There was a large num
ber of people distributed through the several apart
ments, and in the grand hall there was a pervading
hum of voices which seemed to rise and rumble and
die away amid the groinings of the roof above.
Among the persons in this hall, a man some thirty
years of age, tall' and handsome, dressed in a gown
but without the wig, attracted my particular atten
tion. He was walking apart, and there was a certain
look of coldness and haughtiness about him. Never
theless, for some undefinable reason, he excited in me
a lively curiosity. I observed that his eye was dark
and keen, his hair nearly black, and though cut short,
slightly curled. He carried his head erect, its largely
developed corners behind, giving him an air of self-
appreciation. His features were small, but sharply
defined ; his lips were close, and slightly disdainful
and sarcastic in their expression.
There was a striking combination of energy and
elegance in the general aspect of this person ; yet
over all, I must repeat, there was something also
of coldness and pride. Upon his face, expressive of
vigor and activity — mental and physical — there was
a visible tinge of discontent.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 613
" Who is that gentleman ?" said I, to my guide.
" That large, noble-looking person, with a gown
and wig ? That is Cranstoun, one of our first law
yers, and the brother-in-law of Dugald Stuart."
"No : that person beyond and to the left? He is
without a wig."
"Oh, that's Cockburn — a fiery whig, and one of
the keenest fellows we have at the bar."
" Yes : but I mean that younger person, near the
corner.'' " Oh, that small, red-faced, freckled man ? Why
that's Moncrief — a very sound lawyer. His father.
Sir Harry Moncrief, is one of the most celebrated di
vines in Scotland."
"No, no: it is that tall, handsome, proud-looking
person, walking by himself.
" Oh, I see : that's Lockhart — Sir Walter Scott's
son-in-law. Would you like to know him ?"
"Yes."
And so I was introduced to a man* who, at that
time, was hardly less an object of interest to me than
* J. G. Lockhart was a native of Scotland, and born in 1794. In
1826, he became editor of the Quarterly Eeview, and removed to Lon
don. In 1853, he resigned this situation in consequence of ill health.
His biography of his father-in-law — Sir Walter Scott — is well known
and highly appreciated. . The latter part of his life, Lockhart was af
flicted with deafness, which withdrew him much from society. He died
in 1854: his wife had died in London, 1887. His son, John Hugh Lock
hart, to whom Scott dedicated his History of Scotland, under the title
of Hugh Littlejohn, died early. Lockhart had a daughter, who also
has a daughter, and these two are now the only living descendants of
Sir Walter.

614 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
Scott himself. Though a lawyer by profession, he
had devoted himself to literature, and was now in the
very height of his career. "Peter's Letters to his
Kinsfolk," "Valerius," and other works, had given
him a prominent rank as a man of talent ; and be
sides, in 1820, he had married the eldest daughter of
the " Great Unknown." My conversation with him
was brief at this time, but I afterward became well
acquainted with him.
My guide now led me into one of the side-rooms,
where I saw a judge and jury, and a lawyer address
ing them. The latter was a very small man, without
gown or wig, apparently about forty years of age,
though he might be somewhat older. He was of dark
complexion, with an eye of intense blackness, and
almost painfully piercing expression. His motions
were quick and energetic, his voice sharp and pene
trating — his general aspect exciting curiosity rather
than affection. He was speaking energetically, and,
as we approached the bar, my conductor said to me
in a whisper — "Jeffrey !"
We paused, and I listened intently. The case in
itself seemed dry enough — something, I believe, about
a stoppage in transitu. But Jeffrey's pleading was ad
mirable—clear, progressive, logical. Occasionally, in
fixing upon a weak point of his adversary, he display
ed a leopard-like spring of energy, altogether startling.
He seized upon a certain point in the history of the
case, and insisted that the property in question rested

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 615
at that period in the hands of the defendant's agent,
for at least a fortnight. This he claimed to be fatal to
his adversary's plea. Having stated the facts, with a
clearness which seemed to prove them, he said, turn
ing with startling quickness upon his antagonist —
"Now, I ask my learned brother to tell me, what was
the state of the soul during that fortnight ?" To a
jury of Scotch Presbyterians, familiar -with theological
metaphysics, this allusion was exceedingly pertinent
and effective.
We passed into another room. Three fuU-wigged
judges were seated upon a lofty bench, and beneath
them,, at a little table in front, was a large man, bent
down and writing laboriously. As I approached, I
caught a side-view of his face. There was no mis
taking him — it was Sir Walter himself !
Was it not curious to see the most renowned per
sonage in the three kingdoms, sitting at the very feet
of these men — they the court, and he the clerk?
They were indeed all " lords," and their individual
names were suggestive to the ear: one was Robert
son, son of the historian of Charles V. ; another was
Gillies, brother of the renowned Grecian scholar of
that name; another, Mackenzie, son of the author
of the Man of Feeling. These are high titles — but
what were they to the author of Waverley?
Mr. Y  introduced me to him at once, breaking
in upon his occupation with easy familiarity. As he
arose from his seat, I was surprised at his robust, vig-

616
orous frame. He was very nearly six feet in height,
full chested, and of a farmer-like aspect. His com
plexion seemed to have been originally sandy, but
now his hair was gray. He had the rough, freckled,
weather-beaten skin of a man who is much in the open
air ; his eye was small and gray, and peered out keen
ly and inquisitively from beneath a heavy brow, edged
with something like gray, twisted bristles — the whole
expression of his face, however, being exceedingly
agreeable. He wore a gown, but no wig. It would
have been a sin to have covered up that wonderful
head, towering, as we have all seen it in his portraits
— the throne of the richest intellect in the world.*
He greeted me kindly — the tone of his voice being
hearty, yet with a very decided Scotch accent. I told
him I had been to the Highlands. " It is a little too
early," said he ; "I always wish my friends to wait till
the middle of June, for then the ash is in its glory.
Here in the north, summer, as you know, is a laggard.
In America it visits you in better season ?"
" I am from New England, and our forests are not
in full leaf till June."

* Scott was born in 1771 — so at this time, 1824, he was fifty-three
years old, at the highest point of Ws fame, and in the full vigor of his
genius. In 1826 he was involved in the failure of the Ballantynes —
printers ana publishers — to an extent of $700,000. He made prodigious
efforts to liquidate this immense debt, and had laid the foundation for
its payment, when his overwrought brain gave way, and he died of
paralysis, September 21, 1832. He married Miss Carpenter in 1797, and
had four children : Walter, Sophia, who married Lockhart, Ann, and
Charles. All are now dead. Abbotsford remains in the family.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 617
"YeS; your climate there is somewhat like ours.
Are you from Boston ?"
"I am from Hartford, in Connecticut — of which
you have perhaps never heard."
" My American geography is not very minute; yet
Connecticut is a familiar name to my ear. Do you
know Mr. Irving?"
" I have never seen him but once."
"Mr. Cooper?"
" Yes, I know him well."
"Do you stay long in Edinburgh?"
"A few weeks."
"We shall meet again, then, and talk these matters
over." So I had seen the author of Waverley ! I leave
you to guess my emotions, for I could not describe
them.

. LETTER XL.
Preparations for a Ride — Mr. Jeff'rey in a Rough-and-tumhle — A Glance
at Edinburghfromthe Braid Hills— AShower — The Maids of fhe Mist —
Durable Impressions.
Mt dbae 0 ***** *
I found a note — May 31st — at my hotel, from
Miss Y . . . ., inviting me to breakfast. I went at ten,
and we-had a pleasant chat. She then proposed a ride,
and I accepted. She was already in her riding-habit,
8*

618 LETTERS — BIOGEAPHICAL,
and putting on a hat and collar — ^both of rather mas
culine gender, yet not uncomely — we went forth. We
were in Queen-street, No. 48 ; passing along a short
¦iistance, we turned a corner to the left, mounted the
steps of a fine house, and rang. We entered, and I
rt^as introduced to the proprietor, Mrs. Russell. She
led us into another room, and there, on the floor, in
a romp with her two boys, was a small, dark man.
He arose, and behold, it was Francis Jeffrey !* Think
of the first lawyer in Scotland — the lawgiver of the
great Republic of Letters throughout Christendom —
having a rough-and-tumble on the floor, as if he were
himself a boy ! Let others think as they will — I
loved him from that moment ; and ever after, as I
read his criticisms — cutting and scorching as they
often were— I fancied that I could still see a kind and
genial spirit shining through them all. At least it is
certain that, behind his editorial causticity, there was
in private life a fund of gentleness and geniality
* Mr. Jeffrey was born in Edinburgh in 1773, He was admitted to
the bar at the age of twenty-one ; having little p^^ctice for a time, he
sedulously pursued the study of belles-lettres, history, ethics, criticism,
&c. In 1802, at the age of twenty-nine, he founded the Edinburgh
Eeview, of which he continued as principal editor tiU 1829 — placing it
above every other work of the kind which had ever appeared. In 1816
he was acknowledged to be at the head of the Scottish bar as an advo
cate. Having held other high stations, he was appointed, in 1830, Lord-
Advocate of Scotland, and became a member of Parliament. In 18S4
he was raised to the bench as one of the judges of the Court of Sessions.
He died at Edinburgh in 1850. He married in 1818, at New York, Miss
Wilkes, grand-niece of the celebrated John Wilkes of England. In
1815 he became the occupant of the villa of Craigcrook, near Edinburgh,
anciently a monastery, but improved and beautified. Here he was re
siding at thc time I saw him.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 619
which endeared him to all who enjoyed his intimacy.
I was now introduced to him, and he seemed a totally
different being from the fierce and fiery gladiator of
the legal arena, where I had before seen him. His
manners were gentle and gentlemanly — polite to the
ladies and gracious to me.
Jeffrey's house was some two miles from town.
His custom was to come to the city on horseback —
and Mrs. Russell being his friend, he frequently
stopped at her house, leaving his horse in her stable.
Some gossiping scandal arose from this intimacy, but
it was, of course, not only idle, but absurd. We
found Mrs. Russell in a riding-dress, and prepared to
accompany us in our excursion. Taking leave of
Mr, Jeffrey, we went to the stable, where were nearly
a dozen horses, of various kinds and adapted to va
rious uses. Miss Y  chose a shaggy gray pony,
half savage and half pet ; Mrs. Russell mounted a
long, lean, clean-limbed hunter ; and T, at her sug
gestion, took Mr. Jeffrey's mare — a bay, rollicking
cob, with a gait like a saw-mill — as I found to my
cost. We walked our steeds gently out of town, but on
leaving the pavements the ladies struck into a vigor
ous trot. Up and down the hills we went, the turn
pike gates flying open at our approach, the servant
behind, paying the tolls. We passed out of the city
by Holy Rood, and swept round to the east of Ar
thur's seat, leaving Portobello on the left. We rode

630 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
steadily, noting a few objects as we passed, until at
last, 1 eaching an elevated mound, we paused, and the
ladies directed my attention to the scenes around.
We were some two miles south of the town, upon one
of the slopes of the Braid Hills. Ah, what a view
was before us ! The city, a vast, smoking hive, to
the north ; and to the right, Arthur's Seat, bald and
blue, seeming to rise up and almost peep into its streets
and chimneys. Over and beyond all, was the sea. The
whole area between the point where we stood and
that vast azure line, blending with the sky, was a
series of abrupt hills and dimpling valleys, threaded
by a network of highw'ays and byways — honeycomb
ed in spots by cities and villages, and elsewhere sprin
kled with country-seats.
It is an unrivaled scene of varied beauty and in
terest. The natural site of Edinburgh is remarkable,
consisting of three rocky ledges, steepling over deep
ravines. These have all been modified by art; in
one place a lake has been dried up, and is now cov
ered with roads, bridges, tenements, gardens, and
lawns. The sides of the cliffs are in some instances
covered with masses of buildings, the edifices occa
sionally rising tier upon tier — in one place present
ing a line of houses a dozen stories in height ! The
city is divided by a deep chasm into two distinct
parts, the Old Town, dun and smoky, and justifying
the popular appellation of "Auld Reekie," or Old
Smoky ; the other the New Town, with all the fresh

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 621
architecture and all the rich and elaborate embellish
ments of a modern city. Nearly from the center of
the old town rises the Castle, three hundred and
eighty feet above the level of the sea — on one side
looking down almost perpendicularly, two hundred
feet into the vale beneath — on the other holding com
munication with the streets by means of a winding
pathway. In the new town is Calton Hill, rich with
monuments of art and memorials of history, and sug
gesting to the mind a resemblance to the Acropolis
of Athens. From these two commanding positions,
the scenes are unrivaled.
But I forget that I have taken you to the Braid
Hills. The panorama, from this point, was not only
beautiful to the eye, but a rich harvest to the mind.
My amiable guides directed my attention to various
objects — some far and some near, and all with names
familiar to history or song or romance. Yonder mass
of dun and dismal ruins was Craigmillar's Castle, once
the residence of Queen Mary. Nearly in the same
direction, and not remote, is the cliff, above whose
bosky sides peer out the massive ruins of Roslin
Castle ; further south are glimpses of Dalkeith Pal
ace, the sumptuous seat of the Duke of Buccleugh ;
there is the busy little village of Lasswade, which
takes the name of " Gandeircleugh" in the " Tales of
my Landlord ;" yonder winds the Esk and there the
Galawater— both familiar in many a song; and there
is the scenery of the "Gentle Shepherd," presenting

623 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
the very spot where that inimitable colloquy took
place between Peggy and her companion, Jenny—
" Gae farer np the burn to Habbie's How,
Where a' the sweets o' spring an' summer grow :
Between twa birks, out o'er a little linn,
The water fa's and makes a singan din :
A pool, breast deep, beneath as clear as glass,
Kisses wi' easy whirls the bordering grass.
We'll end our washing while the morning's cool,
And when the day grows hot, we'll to the pool.
There wash oursels — it's healthful now in May,
An' sweetly caller on sae warm a day.".
While we were surveying these unrivaled scenes,
the rain began to fall in a fine, insinuating mizzle:
soon large drops pattered through the fog, and at last
there was a drenching shower. I supposed the ladies
would seek some shelter : not they — maids of the
mist — accustomed to all the humors of this drizzly
climate, and of course defying them. They pulled off
their green vails, and stufied them into their saddle-
pockets; then chirruping to their steeds, they sped
along the road, as if mounted on broomsticks. I was
soon wet to the skin, and so, doubtless, were they —
if one might suggest such a thing. However, they
took to it as ducks to a pond. On we went, the wa
ter — accelerated by our speed — spouting in torrents
from our stirrups. In all my days, I had never such
an adventure. And the coolness with which the la
dies took it — that was the most remarkable. Indeed,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 633
it was provoking — for as they would not accept sym
pathy, of'course they could not give it, though my
reeking condition would have touched any other heart
than theirs. On we 'went, till at last coming to the top
of a hill, we suddenly cropped out into the sunshine
— the shower still scudding along the valley beneath
us. We continued our ride, getting once more soak
ed on our way, and again drying in the sun. At
last we reached home, having made a circuit of fifteen
miles. Scarcely a word was said of the rain. I saw
my mermaid friends to their residences, and was
thankful when I got back to the hotel. What with
the shower, and a slight cold which ensued — I did
not get the trot of Jeffrey's mare out of my bones for
a fortnight. Indeed, long after, during rough weather,
when the gust and rain dashed against my window,
the beast sometimes visited me in sleep, coming in the
shape of a nightmare, carrying me at a furious rate,
with two charming witches before, beckoning me on
to a race. As a just moral of this adventure — I
suggest to all Americans, who ride with Scotch ladies
around Edinburgh, not to go forth in their best dress-
coat, and pantaloons having no straps beneath the
boot.

634 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,

LETTER XLI.
William Blackwood — The Magazine — A Dinner at Blackwood's — James
BaUantyne — Lord Byron a'nd Lady Caroline Lamb — The General As
sembly of Scotland — Dr. Chahners.
Mt dear 0 ***** *
One or two more selections from my journal, and
we will leave Edinburgh. I had delivered my letter
of introdaction to Blackwood, and he had treated me
very kindly. He was, professionally, a mere book
seller and publisher — a plain, short, stocky person, with
a large head, bald and flat on the top. He spoke broad
Scotch, or rather sang it, for although all spoken
language, in every country, has its cadences, in Scot
land it is a veritable song. This is more noticeable
among the illiterate, and especially the old women.
I sometimes thought they were mocking me, so em
phatic were their inflexions and modulations. I have
since observed similar intonations in other countries,
especially in Italy, where the rising and falling of the
voice is so marked as to appear like an affectation
of musical cadenzas, even in conversation.
Nevertheless, Mr. Blackwood was an exceedingly
intelligent and agreeable gentleman. The Maga
zine* which bears his name, was then in its glory,
* Blackwood's Magazine was founded in April, 1817, the office of pub
lication being the proprietor's bookstore, 17 Prince-street. The found
er, WiUiam Blackwood, died some years since, and the Magazine is

HISIXJEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 625
and of course a part of its radiance shone on him.
He was a man of excellent judgment, even in literary
matters, and his taste, no doubt, contributed largely
to the success of the Magazine. He was in familiar
intercourse with the celebrities, of the day — and a
bright constellation they were. He spoke as famil
iarly of great names — Scott, Lockhart, Hogg, Wilson
- -sacred to me, as Appleton and Putnam and the Har
pers do of Irving, Halleck, and Bryant, or Ticknor &

continued by his sons. In general, its tone has noj been friendly to
America, and while I was there an article in the May number, 1824,
upon our country, then just issued, excited some attention, and 1 waa
frequently interrogated respecting it. It was entitled the " Five Presi
dents of the United States," and though it was written as by an Eng
lishman, perhaps in order to secure its insertion, Blackwood told me it
was from the pen of a distinguished American, then in London. It was
a somewhat slashing review of the administrations of the presidents,
from Wa.shington to Monroe, the latter being then in office. It em
braced sketches of Adams, Clay, Crawford, and Jackson — the promi
nent candidates for the presidency. The foUowing is part of the notice
of Adams.
Supposing a European ambassador to visit Washington, and is intro
duced into the President's house, "He sees a little man writing at a
table, nearly bald, with a face quite formal and destitute of expression ;
his eyes running with water — his slippers down at the heel — his fingers
stained with ink — in summer wearing a striped sea-sucker coat, and
white trowsers, and dirty waistcoat, spotted with ink — his whole dress
altogether not worth a couple of pounds ; or in a colder season, habited
in a plain blue coat, much the worse for wear, and other garments in
proportion — not so respectable as we may find in the old-clothes bag of
almost any Jew in the street. This person, whom the ambassador mis- ,
takiBS for a clerk in a department, and only wonders, in looking at him,
that the President should permit a man to appear before him in such
dress, proves to be the President ofthe United States himself!"
The article was written with vigor and discrimination, and excited a
good deal of attention. Though free, and by no means dainty in its
criticisms, it was, on the whole, just, and produced a favorable impres-
nion in onr behalf. The author, whoever he was, evidently possessed
eniinent quaUfications for magazine writing.

636 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Fields of Prescott and Longfellow. Was not that a
time to be remembered ?
Of course I was gratified at receiving from him a
note, inviting me to dine with him the next day. His
house was on the south of the old town — nearly two
miles distant. The persons present were such as I
should myself have selected : among them Lockhart
and James BaUantyne. I sat next the latter, and
found him exceedingly agreeable and gentlemanlike.
He was a rather large man, handsome, smooth in
person and manner, and very well dressed. You will
remember that at this time, it was not acknowledged
by Scott or his friends that he was the author of the
Waverley novels. Perhaps the mystery was even
promoted by them, for, no doubt, it added adventi
tious interest to his works. However, the vail was
not closely preserved in the circle of intimacy. Bal-
lantyne said to me, in the course of a conversation
which turned upon the popularity of authors, as indi
cated by the sale of their works — " We hav-e now
in course of preparation forty thousand volumes of
Scott's poems and the works of the author of Waver
ley" — evidently intimating the identity of their au
thorship. There was nothing remarkable about our meal :
it was like an English dinner, generally — ample,
substantial, administered with hospitality, and dis
cussed with relish. There was a certain seriousness
and preparation about it, common in Europe, but un-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 627
common in our country. We rush to the table as if
eating was an affair to be dispatched in the shortest
possible time : to linger over it would seem to be an
indecency. The Englishman, on the contrary, ar
ranges his business for his dinner ; he prepares his
mind for it ; he sets himself to the table, and adjusts
his legs beneath, for it ;¦ he unfolds his napkin and
lays it in his lap, or tucks a corner within his waist
coat, for it ; he finally qualifies himself the better to
enjoy it, by taking a loving survey of the good things
before him and the good friends around him. He be
gins leisurely, as if feeling that Providence smiles upon
him, and he would acknowledge its bounties by pro
longing the enjoyment of them. As he proceeds, he
spices his gratification by sips of wine, exchanges of
compliments with the ladies and convivial chat, right
and left, with his neighbors. The host is attentive,
the hostess lends a smiling countenance, the servants
are ubiquitous, and put your wishes into deeds, with
out the trouble of your speaking to them.
The first half hour has a certain earnestness about
it, apparently occupied in reducing the Malakoffs of
beef, Marnelons of mutton, and Redans of poultry —
that come one after another. The victory is, at last,
substantially won : all that remains is to capture
the pies, cakes, tarts, ices, creams, fruits, &c., which
is usually done with a running artillery of light wit.
Conversation ensues ; now and then all listen to
Bome good talker; perhaps a story-teller catches,

638 LETTEES  BIOGRAPHICAL,
for a time, the attention of the company, and then
again all around resolves itself into a joyous and
jovial confusion of tongues. An hour is past, and
the ladies retire. The gentlemen fill their glasses,
and offer them a parting toast ; then they drink
" The Queen," and give themselves up to social en
joyment. And so it was on this occasion — only that we drank
the King, instead of the Queen, for George IV. was
then upon the throne. Mr. Blackwood was living
in a plain but comfortable style, and garnished his
entertainment with a plain, simple hospitality — which
lost nothing by his occasional interjections of very
broad Scotch. It was delightful to see the easy inti
macy of the persons present : they frequently called
each other by their Christian names — using terms of
endearment, which with us would seem affected, per
haps absurd. " Jammy, dear, tak some wine your-
sel, and hand it to me !" said Blackwood to BaUan
tyne, and the latter answered in a similar tone of
familiar kindness. The whole intercourse of the com
pany seemed warmed and cheered by these simple,
habitual courtesies. Our own manners, I think, un
der similar circumstances, must appear bald and chill
ing, in comparison.
Nor was there any thing remarkable in the conver
sations — save only what related to Byron. The news
of his death at Missolonghi, on the 19th of April, had
reached Scotland a few weeks before, and produced

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 639
a profound sensation. Even while I was there, the
interest in the subject had not subsided. Mr. Lock
hart had not known Byron, personally, but he was in
London soon after his departure for the continent,
and at several subsequent periods, and he gave us
many interesting details respecting him. He was fre
quently at Lady Caroline Lamb's soirees, where he
met the literary celebrities of London, and especially
the younger and gayer portion of them. Her ladyship
had flirted with the lordly poet in the heyday of his
fame, and it was said, condescended to visit him in
the guise of a page — her reputation being of that
salamander quality, which could pass through such
fire and suffer no damage. Her lover proved fickle,
and at last ungrateful, and she retaliated in the novel
of " Glenarvon" — venting her rage upon him by
depicting him as " having an imagination of flame
playing around a heart of ice."
At the time Lockhart thus mingled in Lady Caro
line's circle, Byron was the frequent theme of com
ment. She had a drawer-full of his letters, and inti
mate friends were permitted to read them. She had
also borrowed of Murray the poet's manuscript auto
biography given to Moore, and had copied some of
its passages. This was soon discovered, and she was
obliged to suppress them — but still passages of them
got into circulation. The work was written in a dar
ing, reckless spirit, setting at defiance all the laws of
propriety, and even of decency. One of the chapters

630 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
consisted of a rhyming list of his acquaintances, at the
period of his highest fashionable success, in Lonaou —
dashed off with amazing power — yet in such terms of
profanity as to forbid repetition, at least in print. It
was obvious, from what was said by Mr. Lockhart and
others, that such were the gross personalities, the
shameful outrages of decorum, and the general licen
tiousness of this production, that 'it was impossible
for any respectable publisher to be concerned in giv
ing it to the world. The consignment of it to the
flames, by his friends, was as much dictated by re
gard to their own characters, as to the fame of the
author, which was in a certain degree committed to
their keeping.
We sat down to dinner at seven, and got up at
eleven. After a short conversation with the ladies,
we took our departure. As I was getting into my
carriage, Mr. Lockhart proposed to me to walk back
to town, a distance of a mile and a half I gladly
accepted this proposition, and we had a very interest
ing conversation. Upon intimacy, Lockhart's cold
ness wholly disappeared. He spoke in an easy,
rattling way, very much in the manner of the freer
portions of Peter's Letters. The good dinner had
doubtless cheered him a little ; but not only on this,
but other occasions I had evidence of a more genial
nature than might have been supposed to exist be
neath the haughty armor which he seemed to wear
toward the world.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 631
The next day I went to St. Giles's Church,* to see
the General Assem-bly, then holding its annual ses
sion there. This body consisted of nearly four
hundred members, chosen by different parishes, bor
oughs, and universities. The sessions are attended by
a Commissioner appointed by the crown, but he is seat
ed outside of the area assigned to the assembly, and
has no vote, and no right of debate. He sits under a
pavilion, with the insignia of royalty, and a train of
gaily-dressed pages. He opens the sessions in the
name of the King, the Head of the Church : the mod
erator then opens it in the name of the Lord Jesus
Christ, ilie only trzie Head of the Church ! It appears
that the Scotch, in bargaining for a union with Eng
land, took good care to provide for their religious in
dependence, and this they still jealously preserve ;
the Irish, on the contrary, were sold out, and treated
like a conquered people. The commissioner, at this
time, was Lord Morton — who, according to all the
accounts I heard, was a disgrace to human nature.
The aspect of the Assembly was similar to that of
the House of Commons — though somewhat graver.
I observed that the debates were often stormy, with
scraping of the floor, laughing aloud, and cries of
" hear, hear !" The members were, in fact, quite dis
orderly, sho'ftring at least as little regard for decorum

* In l&a a fine church, called Victoria HaH, was erected for the meet
ings of the General Assembly. It is of rich Mediaival Gothic archi
tecture, witli a spire two hundred and forty-six feet in height.

632 LETTERS  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
as ordinary legislatures. Sir Walter Scott once re
marked, in my hearing, that it had never yet been
decided how many more than six members could
sp^ak at once !
The persons here pointed out to me as celebrities
were Dr. Chalmers, the famous pulpit orator. Dr.
Cook, the ecclesiastical historian, and Dr. Baird, prin
cipal of the University, and caricatured in the print-
shops under a rude portrait of his large face, nearly
covered with hair, the whole labeled, Principal Beard.
The first of these was now at the height of his fame.
He had already begun those reforms which, some
years later, resulted in a disruption of the Scottish
Church. At this period the Assembly was divided
into two opposite parties, the Moderate, and the Souna
— ^the former contending for the old doctrine, that
presbyteries were bound to receive and accept every
qualified preacher, presented by the crown, or others
exercising the right of such preferment, and the lat
ter opposing It. The importance of the question lay
in the fact that a large number of the places in the
Church were in the gift of the crown, and many others
in the hands of lay -patrons, and these were frequent
ly bestowed in such a manner as to accumulate
two or more benefices in the hands of one person.
The great point made by Chalmers was, that one
church, one congregation, however small, was enough
to occupy and absorb the attention of one minister ;
and that a plurality of benefices was both corrupting

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 633
to the Church, by making it subservient to patronage,
and destractive of the apostolic spirit, which demands
the devotion of the whole soul to the work of the
ministry. T had the good fortune to hear Chalmers speak for
a few moments, but with great energy and power, so
as to give me an idea of his appearance and manner.
He was a large man, and as he rose he seemed rather
heavy, slow, and awkward. His face was large, its
outline being nearly circular. His lips, when closed,
were thin, giving a certain sharpness and firmness to
his countenance. His forehead was large and expan
sive, his brow finely arched, his eye gray, and its
expression ordinarily heavy. Altogether his appear-
iance, as he first rose to my view, was unpromising.
His speech, his articulation, was even worse, at the
outset, for he had the Fifeshire dialect — the harshest
and most unintelligible in Scotland. He had, how
ever, spoken but a few sentences, when the whole man
was transformed. That heaviness which marked his
appearance, had wholly passed away. Upon his coun
tenance there was an animated yet lofty expression — ¦
firm and fearless, benevolent and winning — while
his voice, pouring out a vast flow of thought, had in
it a tone at once of love and command, of feeling and
of authority; absolutely irresistible. I felt myself borne
along in the torrent — compelled, yet lending myself
gratefully to the movement. Sentence after sentence
fell from his lips, thought accumulated upon tiiougnt,

634 LETTERS — BIOGEAPHICAL, •
illustration upon illustration, and yet the listener com
passed every conception and treasured every word.
There was something in his voice so musical, so
touching, that the whole sank into the soul like a
hymn. The general effect was aided by his gestures
and movements, for though by no means graceful,
they harmonized so well with the emotions of the
speaker as at once to illustrate and enforce the gen
eral tenor of his address.
On another occasion I heard Dr. Chalmers preach,
in one of the churches of the city. The crov.rd was
so great, however, that I saw ahd heard very imper
fectly. It seemed to me that he was rather calculated
to produce an effect by his oratory, than his writings.
He had evidently wonderful powers of amplification :
he often started topics apparently barren and unsug-
gestive, but soon he called around them a crowd of
thoughts and associations ofthe highest interest. The
common labors of the minister of the Gospel — enter
ing into the hearts and homes of the rich and the
poor ; now leading to the stately hall, and now to the
squalid dens of vice, poverty, and crime ; now to the
administration of baptism, and now to the sacrament
— this hackneyed routine, by force of his vivid imagi^
nation and ardent spirit, presented pictures to the
mind and awoke emotions in the heart, quite over
whelming. He seemed, indeed, like a magician, capa
ble of converting even the sand and stones of the des
ert into images of life and power; but it appeared

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 635
to me that in order to do this, the voice and gesture
and presence of the sorcerer, were indispensable. I
have never, in reading any thing he has written —
noble as are his works — at all realized the emotions
produced by the brief, but startling speach I heard
from him in the Assembly.

LETTER XLII.
A Dinner at Lockhart's — Conversation about Byron — Mrs. Lockhart — Ir
vimg — Professor Ticknor — Music — The Pibroch and Miss Edgeworth —
A'necdotes ofthe Ihdian s — Southey and Second Sight — Cooper's Pioneers—
The Pilot — Paul Jones — Brockden Brown — Burns — Tricks ofthe Press
— Charles Scott — The Welsh Parson — The Italian Base-viol Player — •
Personal Appeara^nce of Sir Walter — Departure for London — Again
im, Edinburgh in 1832 — Last Moments of Sir Walter — The Sympathy of
Nature.
My DKAB 0******
I hope you fully comprehend that, in these
sketches I am only dipping into my journal here
and there, and selecting such memoranda as I think
may amuse you. Most of these passages refer to
individuals who have now passed to their graves.
It is mournful — to me it is suggestive of feelings inex
pressibly sad and solemn — to reflect that of the long
list of distinguished persons who, at the period I
refer to, shed a peculiar glory upon Edinburgh, not
one survives. Scott, Lockhart, Jeffrey, Chalmers — -
these, and others who stood beside them, either shar-

636 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
ing or reflecting the blushing honors of genius and
fame, falling around them — all are gone from the
high places which they then illumined with their pres
ence. I am speaking only of the dead — yet I remem
ber them as living, and — though their history, their
works, their fame, are familiar to you — it may still
interest you to go back and participate in recollec
tions of them — their persons, speech, manner — and
thus, in some degree, see them as they were seen, and
know them as they were known. I pray you to ac
cept these passages from my journal, as glimpses only
of what I saw, and not as pretending at all to a reg
ular account of my travels and observations, at the
time referred to.
On Wednesday, June 2, I dined with Mr. Lock
hart — 25 Northumberland-street. Besides the host
and hostess, there were present Sir Walter Scott, his
son, Charles Scott, Mr. Blackwood, Mr. Robinson,
and three or four other persons. At dinner I sat next
Sir Walter — an arrangement made, I believe, in com
pliment to myself. Every thing went off pleasantly
— with the usual ease, hospitality, and heartiness of
an English dinner. The house and furniture were
plain and handsome — such as were common to people
of good condition and good taste.
The meal was discussed with the usual relish, and
with the usual garnLsh of wit and pleasantry. After
the ladies had retired, the conversation became gen
eral and mimated. Byron was the engrossing topic.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 637
Sir Walter spoke of him with the deepest feeling of
admiration and regret. A few weeks before, on the
receipt of the news of his death, he had written an
obituary notice of him, in which he compared him
to the sun, withdrawn from the heavens at the very
moment when every telescope was leveled to discover
either his glory or his spots. He expressed the opin
ion that Byron was " dying of home-sickness" — that
being his phrase. For a long time he had flouted
England, and seemed to glory alike in his exile and
his shame. Yet all this time his heart was devoured
with " the fiend ennui." He went to Greece, in the
hope of doing some gallant deed that would wipe out
his disgrace, and create for him such sympathy in the
breasts of his countrymen, as would enable him to
return — his " faults forgiven and his sins forgot."
Lockhart and Blackwood both told stories, and we
passed a pleasant half hour. The wine was at last
rather low, and our host ordered the servant to bring
more. Upon which Scott said — " No, no, Lokert" —
such was his pronunciation of his son-in-law's name
— " we have had enough : let us go and see the la
dies." And so we gathered to the parlor.
Mrs. Lockhart was now apparently about two and
twenty years old — small in person, and girl-like in
manner. Her hair was light-brown, cut short, and
curled in her neck and around her face. Her cheeks
were blooming, and her countenance full of cheerful
ness. Her address was at once graceful and gracious

638 LETrERS— -BIOGRAPHICAL,
— ^indicating a lively, appreciative nature and the finest
breeding. She had a son, four years old, and at my
request, he was brought in. He was a fine boy,
" very like his father," but alas, doomed to an early
death.* Mrs. Lockhart spoke with great interest of Mr. Ir
ving, who had visited the family at Abbotsford. She
said that he slept in a room which looked out on the
Tweed. In the morning as he came down to break
fast, he was very pale, and being asked the reason,
confessed that he had not been able to sleep. The
sight of the Tweed from his window, and the con
sciousness of being at Abbotsford, so filled his imagi
nation — so excited his feelings, as to deprive him of
slumber. She also spoke of Professor Ticknor — lay
ing the accent on the last syllable — as having been
at Abbotsford, and leaving behind him the most
agreeable impressions.
Our lively hostess was requested to give us some
music, and instantly complied — the harp being her
instrument. She sang Scotch airs, and played sev
eral pibrochs — all with taste and feeling. Her range
of tunes seemed inexhaustible. Her father sat by,
and entered heartily into the performances. He beat
time vigorously with his lame leg, and frequently
helped out a chorus, the heartiness of his tones ma
king up for some delinquencies in tune and time.
"^ He died at London, Dec. 15, 1831 ; his mother foUowed him, Mav
17, 1837.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 639
Often he made remarks upon the songs, and told an
ecdotes respecting them. When a certain pibroch
had been played, he said it reminded him of the first
time he ever saw Miss Edgeworth. There had come
to Abbotsford, a wild Gaelic peasant from the neigh
borhood of Staffa, and it was proposed to him to
sing a pibroch, common in that region. He had con
sented, but required the whole party present, to sit in
a circle on the floor, while he should sing the song,
and perform a certain pantomimic accompaniment, in
the center. All was accordingly arranged in the great
hall, and the performer had just begun his wild chant,
when in walked a small but stately lady, and an
nounced herself as Miss Edgeworth !
Mrs. Lockhart asked me about the American In
dians — expressing great curiosity concerning them. I
told the story of one who was tempted to go into the
rapids of the Niagara river, just above the Falls, for
a bottle of rum. This he took with him, and having
swam out to the point agreed upon, he turned back
and attempted to regain the land. For a long time
the result was doubtful : he struggled powerfully,
but in vain. Inch by inch, he receded from the shore,
and at last, finding his doom sealed, he raised himself
above the water, wrenched the cork from the bottle,
and putting the latter to his lips, yielded to the cur
rent, and thus went down to his doom.
Mrs. Lockhart made some exclamations of mingled
admiration and horror. Sir Walter then said that he

640 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
had read an account of an Indian, who was in a boat,
approaching a cataract ; by some accident, it was
drawn into the current, and the savage saw that his
escape was impossible. Upon this he arose, wrapped
his robe of skins around him, seated himself erect,
and with an air of imperturbable gravity, went over
the falls.
" That is sublime," said Mrs. Lockhart : " as if he
were preparing to meet the Great Spirit, and he
thought it proper to enter his presence with dignity !"
" The most remarkable thing about the American
Indians," said Blackwood, " is their being able to fol
low in the trail of their enemies, by their footprints
left in the leaves, upon the grass, and even upon the
moss of the rocks. The accounts given of this seem
hardly credible."
"I can readily believe it, however," said Sir Wal
ter. " You must remember that this is a part of their
education., I have learned at Abbotsford to discrim
inate between the hoof-marks of all our neighbors'
horses, and I taught the same thing to Mrs. Lockhart.
It is, after all, not so difficult as you might think.
Every horse's foot has some peculiarity — either oi
size, shoeing, or manner of striking the earth. I was
once walking with Southey — a mile or more from
home — across the fields. At last we came to a bridle
path, leading toward Abbotsford, and here I noticed
fresh hoof prints. Of this I said nothing ; but paus
ing and looking up with an inspired expression, I

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 641
said to Southey — ' I have a gift of second sight : we
shall have a stranger to dinner !'
" ' And what may be his name ?' was the reply.
"'Scott,' said I.
" ' Ah, it is some relation of yours,' he said ; ' you
have invited him, and you would pass off as an ex
ample of your Scottish gift of prophecy, a matter
previously agreed upon !'
" ' Not at all,' said I. ' I assure you that till this
moment I never thought of such a thing.'
" When we got home, I was told that Mr. Scott, a
farmer living some three or four miles distant, and a
relative of mine, was waiting to see me. Southey
looked astounded. The man remained to dinner, and
he was asked if he had given any intimation of his
coming. He replied in the negative : that indeed he
had no idea of visiting Abbotsford when he left home.
After enjoying Southey's wonder for some time, I
told him that I saw the tracks of Mr. Scott's horse
in the bridle-path, and inferring that he was going to
Abbotsford, easily foresaw that we should have him
to dinner."
Mrs. Lockhart confirmed her father's statement,
and told how, in walking over the country together,
they had often amused themselves in studying the
hoof-prints along the roads.
Mr. Lockhart returned to the Indians. " I have
lately been reading an exceedingly clever American
novel, entitled the Pioneers, by Cooper. His descrip-
9*

642 LETTEES — BIOGRAPHICAL.
tive power is very great, and I think he has opened
a new field of romance, especially in the hunters
along the frontiers, who, in their intercourse with
savages, have become half savage themselves. That
border life is full of incident, adventure, poetry ; the
character of Leatherstocking is original and striking."
" I have not seen the Pioneers," said Scott ; " but
I have read the Pilot by the same author, which has
just been published. It is very clever, and I think
it will turn out that his strength lies in depicting sea
life and adventure. We really have no good sea-
tales, and here is a wide field, open to a man of true
genius." "But, papa," said our hostess, " I should think it
rather a narrow field. Only a few persons go to sea,
and" the language of sailors is so technical as to be
hardly understood by people generally. It seems to
me that sea-tales can never excite the sympathy of
the great mass of readers, because they have had no
experience of its life and manners."
" It is no doubt a task of some difficulty," said Sir
Walter, "to bring these home to the hearts of the
reading million; nevertheless, to a man of genius
for it, the materials are ample and interesting. All
our minds are full of associations of danger, of dar
ing, and adventure with the sea and those who have
made that element their home. And besides, thjs
book to which I refer — the Pilot — connects its story
with the land. It is perhaps more interesting to me,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 643
because I perfectly well recollect the time when Paul
Jones — whose character is somewhat reflected in the
hero of the story — came up the Solway in 1778 in
the Ranger, though I was then less than ten years old.
He kept the whole coast in a state of alarm for some
time, and was in fact the great scarecrow of that age
and generation."
" Mr. Cooper is a man of genius," said Lockhart :
" no one can deny that ; but it seems to me that
Brockden Brown was the most remarkable writer of
fiction that America has produced. There is a similar
ity in his style to that of the Radcliffe school, and in
the tone of mind to Godwin's Caleb Williams ; bjit in
his machinery, he is highly original. In his display
of the darker passions, he surpasses all his models."
"That maybe true," said Sir Walter, "but it is
neither a wholesome nor a popular species of literature.
It is almost wholly ideal ; it is not in nature ; it is in
fact contrary to it. Its scenes, incidents, characters,
do not represent life : they are alien to common ex
perience. They do not appeal to a wide circle of
syinpathy in the hearts of mankind. The chief emo
tion that it excites is terror or wonder. The suggest
ive manner of treating every subject, aims at keeping
the mind constantly on the rack of uncertainty. This
trick of art was long ago exhausted. Brown had
wonderful powers, as many of his descriptions show ;
bat I think he was led astray by falling under the
influence of bad examples, prevalent at his time.

644 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
Had he written his own thoughts, he would have
been, perhaps, immortal : in writing those of others,
his fame was of course ephemeral."
The conversation turned upon Burns. Scott knew
him well. He said that Tam O'Shanter was written to
please a stonecutter, who had executed a monument
for the poet's father, on condition that he should
write him a witch-story, in verse. He stated that
Burns was accustomed, in his correspondence, more
especially with ladies, to write an elaborate letter,
and then send a copy of it to several persons —
modifying local and personal passages to suit each
individual. He said that of some of these letters, he
had three or four copies thus addressed to different
persons, and all in the poet's handwriting.
The tricks of the London newspapers were spoken
of, and he mentioned the following instance. A pop
ular preacher there, had caused a church to be built,
in which he was to officiate. The time was fixed for
its dedication ; but two" days before this, an article
appeared in one of the city prints, describing the
building, and speaking well of it, but suggesting
that the pillars which supported the gallery were
entirely too slight, ahd it must be exceedingly dan
gerous for any congregation to assemble there ! This
of course produced a general alarm, and to appease
this, the proprietor found it necessary to have a sur
vey made by an architect. This was done, and the
architect declared, that, as the pillars were of iron.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 645
there was not the slightest danger. The proprietor
took this statement to the editor of the paper, and
begged him to retract his false and injurious state
ment. The reply was —
" This is doubtless an important matter to you, but
not of the slightest interest to me."
" But, sir," was the reply, " you have stated what
is not true : will you not correct your own error ?"
" Yes, but we must be paid for it."
" What, for telling the truth ?"
" That depends upon circumstances : do you sup
pose we can tell every truth that everybedy desires
us to ? No, sir ; this is a matter of interest to you :
you can afford to pay for it. Give us ten guineas,
and we will set it all right."
The proprietor of the church had no other resource,
and so he paid the money.
Charles Scott, Sir Walter's second son, a rosy-
cheeked youth of about eighteen, was present. He had
recently come from Wales, where he had been under
the teaching of a Welch clergyman. This subject
being mentioned, Blackwood asked Mr. Robinson — a
very sober, clerical-looking gentleman — to give the
company a sample of a Welch sermon. Two chairs
were placed back to back : Blackwood sat in one — his
bald, flat pate for a desk, and the performer mounted
the other — taking one of Mrs. Lockhart's songs for his
notes. It seems he was familiar with the Welch lan
guage, and an admirable mimic. His performance was

646 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
exceedingly amusing. When he became animated,
he slapped the music down on Blackwood's bald pate,
and in capping his climaxes, gave it two or three
smart thumps with his fist. Blackwood must have
had a substantial skull, or he could not have borne
it. At last, even he had enough of it, and when he
perceived another climax was coming, he dodged,
and the sermon was speedily brought to a close.
Mr. Robinson was then called upon to imitate an
Italian player on the bass-viol. He took a pair of
tongs for his bow, and a shovel for the viol, and
mounting a pair of spectacles on the tip-end of his
nose, he began imitating the spluttering of the instru
ment by his voice. It was inimitably droll. Sir
Walter was quite convulsed, and several of the ladies
absolutely screamed. As to myself, I had the side-
ache for four-and-twenty hours.
And thus passed the evening — till twelve o'clock.
I have not told you the half of what is indicated in
the notes before me. These specimens will suffice,
however, to give you some idea of the manner in
which good people unbent in the family circle of Ed
inburgh, thirty years ago. You will readily suppose
that my eye often turned upon the chief figure in this
interesting group. I could not for a monient forget
his presence, though nothing could be more unpre
tending and modest than his whole air and bearing.
His features are doubtless impressed upon you by
his portraits, for they have all a general resemblance.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 647
There was in Mr. Lockhart's parlor, where we were
sitting, a copy of Chantry's bust of him — since re
peated a thousand times in plaster. I compared it
again and again with the original. Nothing could
possibly be better as a likeness. The lofty head, the
projecting brows, the keen, peering glance of the eye,
the long, thick upper lip, the dumpy nose, the rather
small and receding chin — each feature separately
homely, yet all combined to form a face of agreeable
expression. Its general effect was that of calm dig
nity; and now, in the presence of children and
friends, lighted by genial emotions, it was one of the
pleasantest countenances I have ever seen. When
standing or walking, his manly form, added to an
aspect of benevolence, completed the image — at once
exciting affection and commanding respect.
As to his manners, I need only add that they were
those of a well-bred English gentleman — quiet, un
pretending, absolutely without self-assertion. He ap
peared to be happy, and desirous of making others so.
He was the only person present, who seemed uncon
scious that he was the author of Waverley. His in
tercourse with his daughter, and hers in return, were
most charming. She called him "papa," and he
called her "my child," "my daughter," "Sophia,"
and in the most endearing tone and manner. She
seemed quite devoted to him, watching his lips when
he was speaking, and seeking in every thing to anti
cipate and fulfill his wishes. When she was singing.

648 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
his eye dwelt upon her, his ear catching and seeming
to relish every tone. Frequently, when she was si
lent, his eye rested upon her, and the lines came to
my mind —
" Some feelings are to mortals given,
With less of earth in them, than Heaven :
And if there be a human tear
From passion's dross refined and clear,
A tear so limpid and so meek
It would not stain an angel's cheek —
'Tis that which pious fathers shed
Upon a duteous daughter's head!"
After a stay of about three weeks in Edinburgh,
I took a reluctant leave of it, and went to London.
Eight years later, September, 1832, 1 was again there.
Scott was on his death-bed, at Abbotsford. Over
burdened with the struggle to extricate himself firom
the wreck of his fortunes, his brain had given way,
and the mighty intellect was in ruins. On the morn
ing- of the 17th, he woke from a paralytic slumber—-
his eye clear and calm, every trace of delirium having
passed away. Lockhart came to his bedside. " My
dear," he said, " I may have but a moment to speak
to you. Be a good man ; be virtuous — be religious :
be a good man. Nothing else will give you any com
fort, when you are called upon to lie here !"
Oh, what a bequest were these words, uttered by
the dying lips of the mightiest genius of the age!
We may all do well to heed them. Few more words
did he speak ; he soon fell into a stupor, which, on

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 649
the 21st, became the sleep of death. Thus he ex
pired, all his children around him. " It was a beau
tiful day," says his biographer — " so warm that every
window was wide open, and so perfectly still that
the sound of all others most delicious to his ear, the
gentle ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles, was dis
tinctly audible as we knelt around the bed, and his
eldest son kissed and closed his eyes !"
The signs and symbols of mourning that spread
over Great Britain on account of the death of the
great and good man, were like those which com
memorate the decease of a sovereign. Bells were
tolled, sermons were preached, flags of ships were at
half-mast, nearly every newspaper was clothed in
black. In Edinburgh, every lip trembled in speak
ing of the melancholy event.
Two days after this, I departed with my com
panion for the Highlands. On reaching Stirling, we
found it enveloped in the drapery of dark, impene
trable clouds. We passed on to Callender ; we pro
ceeded to Loch Katrine. All around seemed to be in
mourning. Huge masses of dim vapor rolled around
the pinnacle of Benain ; the shaggy brows and rocky
precipices of Benvenue were all shrouded in gloomy
mist. The hoary forests of the Trosachs heaved sad
and moaning in the breeze. The surface of the lake
was wrinkled with falling spray. All around seemed
to wail and weep, as if some calamity had fallen upon
nature itself. He who had endowed these scenes with

650 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
immortality, was dead ; his body was now being bome
to its tomb. While a nation wept, it was meet that
the mountain and the lake, the stream and the glen —
which his genius had consecrated — should also weep.
" Call it not rain ; they do not err
"Who say, that when the poet dies,
Mate nature mourns her worshiper.
And celebrates his obsequies ;
Who say, tall cliff and cavern lone,
I'or the departed bard make moan ;
That mountains weep in crystal rill ;
That flowers in tears of balm distill ;
Through his loved groves that breezes sigh,
And oaks, in deeper groans, reply ;
And rivers teach their rushing wave
To murmur dirges round his grave I"

LETTER XLIII.
,iowrney to London — Remarks on England, as it appears to the American
Traveler — The Climate — Tlie Landscape — Jealousies between the EngUsh
amd Americans — Plan fot' securing Peace.
Mt DEAK Q ***** *
Early in June, I set out for London. My route
led me through the village of Dalkeith, and the pos
sessions of the Duke of Buccleugh, extending for
thirty miles on both sides of the road. We were
constantly meeting objects which revived historical
or poetic reminiscences. Among these was Cockpen,

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 651
the scene of the celebrated ballad, and as I rode by,
the whole romance passed before my mind. I fan
cied that I could even trace the pathway along which
the old laird proceeded upon his courtship, as well
as the residence of
" The pennyless lass with a lang pedigree ;"
and who was so daft as to reject his offer, although
" His wig was well powthered and as gude as new ;
His waistcoat was red, and his coat it was blue _
A ring on his finger, hia sword and cooked hat —
And who could refuse the auld laird wi' a' that?"
We crossed the Galawater and the Ettrick, and
traveled along the banks of the Tweed — formed by
the union of these two streams. We passed- Abbots
ford, rising at a little distance on the left — its baronial
dignity being lost in the spell of more potent associa
tions. Further on, we saw the Eildon Hills, " cleft in
three" by the wondrous wizzard, Michael Scott — as
duly chronicled in the Lay of th ; Last Minstrel. We
proceeded along the banks of the Teviot — a small lim
pid stream, where we observed the barefooted lassies
washing, as in the days of Allan Ramsay. We saw
Netherby Hall, and a little beyond Cannobie Lea, the
scenes of the song of Young Lochinvar. All these,
and many more localities of legendary name and
fame, were passed in the course of a forenoon's
progress in the stage-coach. Scotland is indeed a
charn^ed land !

653 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
One day's journey brought me to Carlisle : thence I
traveled westward, looking with all due delight upon
Wendermere, and Rydal, and Grassmere, and Helvel-
lyn, and Derwentwater, and Skiddau. Then turning
eastward, I traveled over a hilly and picturesque
countr}', to the ancient and renowned city of York.
Having lingered, half entranced amid its antiquities,
and looked almost with worship upon its cathedral —
the most beautiful I have ever seen — I departed, and
soon found myself once more in London.
As I shall not return to the subject again, allow
me to say a few words as to the impression England
makes upon the mind of an American, traveling over
its surface. I have visited this country several times
within the last thirty years, and I shall group my
impressions in one general view. The whole may be
summed up in a single sentence, which is, that Eng
land is incomparably the most beautiful country in
the world ! I do not speak of it in winter, when in
cumbered with fogs ; when there is
" 'No sun, no moon, no morn, no noon.
No dusk, no dawn — no proper time of day ;
No sky, no earthly view, no distance looking blue •
No road, no street, no t'other side the way!"
I take her as I do any other beauty who sits for hei
portrait — in her best attire ; that is, in summer. The
sun rises here as high in June, as it does in America.
Vegetation is just about as far advanced. The mead
ows, the wheat-fields, the orchards, the forests, are in

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 653
their glory. There is one difference, however, be
tween the two countries — the sun in England is not
so hot, the air is not so highly perfumed, the buzz of
the insects is not so intense. Every, thing is more
tranquil. With us, all nature, during summer, ap
pears to be in haste, as if its tirae was short — as if it
feared the coming frost. In England, on the con
trary, there seems to be a confidence in the seasons,
as if there were time for the ripening harvests ; as if
the wheat might swell out its fat sides, the hops am
plify its many-plaited flowers, the oats multiply and
increase its tassels — each and all attaining their
perfection at leisure. In the United States, the pe
riod of growth of most vegetables is compressed into
ten weeks ; in Great Britain, it extends to sixteen.
If we select the middle of June as a point of com
parison, we shall see that in America there is a spirit,
vigor, energy in the climate, as indicated by vegeta
ble and animal life, unknown in Europe. In the
former, the pulse of existence beats quicker than in
the latter. The air is clearer, the landscape is more
distinct, the bloom more vivid, the odors more pun
gent, the perceptions of the mind even, I doubt not,
are more intense. A clover-field in America, in full
bloom, is by many shades more ruddy than the same
thing in England — its breath even is sweeter: the
music of the bees stealing its honey is of a higher
key. A summer forest with us is of a livelier green
than in any part of Great Britain; the incense

654 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
breathed upon the heart, morning and evening, is, I
think, more full and fragrant. And yet, if we take
the summer through, this season is pleasanter in
England than with us. It is longer, its excitements
are more tranquil, and, being spread over a larger
space, the heart has more leisure to appreciate them,
than in the haste and hurry of our American climate.
There is one fact worthy of notice, which illus
trates this peculiarity of the English summer. The
trees there are all of a more sturdy, or, as we say,
stubbed form and character. The oaks, the elms, the
walnuts, beeches, are shorter and thicker, as well in
the trunks as the branches, than ours. They have
all a stocky, John Bull form and stature. The leaves
are thicker, the twigs larger in circumference. I have
noticed particularly the recent growths of apple-trees,
and they are at once shorter and stouter than in
America. This quality in the trees gives a pecu
liarity to the landscape. The forest is more solid and
less graceful than ours. If you will look at an Eng
lish painting of trees, you notice the fact I state, and
perceive the effect it gives, especially to scenes of
which trees constitute a prevailing element. All
over Europe, in fact, the leaves of the trees have
a less feathery appearance than in America ; and in
general the forms of the branches are less arching,
and, of course, less beautiful. Hence it will be per
ceived that European pictures of trees differ in this
respect from American ones — the foliage in the for-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 655
mer being more solid, and the sweep of the branches
more angular.
But it is in respect to the effects of human art and
industry, that the English landscape has the chief ad
vantage over ours. England is an old country, and
shows on its face the transforming influences of fif
teen centuries of cultivation. It is, with the excep
tion of Belgium, the most thickly-settled country of
Europe — nearly three hundred and fifty inhabitants
to the square mile, while in the United States we
have but seven. Massachusetts, the most thickly-
settled State in America, has but one hundred and
thirty. Englandj therefore, is under a garden-like cultiva
tion ; the plowing is straight and even, as if regulated
by machinery ; the boundaries of estates consist for
the most part of stone mason- work, the intermediate
divisions being hedges, neatly trimmed, and forming
a beautiful contrast to our stiff stone walls and rail
fences. The public roads are nicely wrought, the
sides being turfed with neat and convenient foot
ways. The railway stations are beautiful specimens
of architecture ; the sides of the railways are all sod
ded over, and often are blooming with patches of cul
tivated flowers. In looking from the top of a hill
over a large extent of country, it is impossible not to
feel a glow of delight at the splendor of the scene —
the richness of the soil, its careful and skillful cul
tivation, its green, tidy boundaries checkering the

656 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
scene, its teeming crops, its fat herds, its numberless
and full-fleeced sheep.
Nor must the dwellings be overlooked. I pass by
the cities and the manufacturing villages, which, in
most parts, are visible in every extended landscape —
sometimes, as in the region of Manchester, spread
ing out for miles, and sending up pitchy wreaths ol
smoke from a thousand tall, tapering chimneys. I
am speaking now of the country, and here are such
residences as are unknown to us. An English castle
would swallow up a dozen of our shingle or brick
villas. The adjacent estate often includes a thousand
acres — and these, be it remembered, are kept almost as
much for ornament as use. Think ofa dwelling that
might gratify the pride of a prince, surrounded by
several square miles of wooded park, and shaven
lawn, and winding stream, and swelling hill, and all
having been for a hundred, perhaps five hundred
years, subjected to every improvement which the
highest art could suggest ! There is certainly a union
of unrivaled beauty and magnificence in the lordly
estates of England. We have nothing in America
which at all resembles them.
And then there is every grade of imitation of these
high examples, scattered over the whole country.
The greater part of the surface of England belongs to
wealthy proprietors, and these have alike the desire
and the ability to give an aspect of neatness, finish,
and elegance, not only to their dwellings and the

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 657
immediate grounds, but to their entire estates. The
prevailing standard of taste thus leads to a universal
beautifying of the surface of the country. Even the
cottager feels the influence of this omnipresent spirit ;
the brown thatch over his dwelling, and the hedge
before his door, must be neatly trimmed ; the green
ivy must clamber up and festoon his windows, and
the little yard in front must bloom with roses and
lilies, and other gentle flowers, in their season.
And thus cold, foggy England is made the para
dise of the earth — at least during this charming
month of June. Nature now, in compensation for
her ill humor at other seasons, aids in this universal
decoration. Through the whole summer^nay, in au
tumn, and even in winter — the verdure of the Eng
lish landscape is preserved. Not in July nor August,
not even in December, do we here see the grass
parched with heat or grown gray in the frost. It is
true the leaves of the trees fall, as they do with us, in
November — not having first clothed the hills in red
and purple and gold as in America, but, as the Eng
lish poet tells us —
"  the fading, many-colored woods,

Shade deep'ning over shade, the country round
Imbrown ; a crowded umbrage, dusk and dun,
Of every hue, from wan, declining green,
To sooty dark" —
thus, for a time, seeming to prelude the coming win
ter, with a drapery of mourning woven of the faded

658 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
glories of summer. Nothing can indeed be more dis
mal than the aspect of England, when the black, crum
pled leaves are falling in the forests — some yet flut
tering on the branches, and others strewn on the
ground. But even then the sod retains its living
hue, and when at last the leaves have fallen, there is
still a universal mantle of verdure over the fields —
thus redeeming winter from a portion of its gloom.
So much for the common aspect of England as the
traveler passes over it. The seeker for the pictu
resque may find abundant gratification in Devon
shire, Derbyshire, Westmoreland, though Wales and
Scotland, and parts of Ireland, are still more renown
ed for scenic beauty. So far as combinations of na
ture are concerned, nothing in the world can surpass
some of our own scenery — as along the upper waters
of the Housatonic and the Connecticut, or among the
islands of Lake George, and a thousand other places
— but these lack the embellishments of art and the
associations of romance or song, which belong to the
rival beauties of British landscapes.
You will notice that I confine these remarks to a
single topic — the aspect of England, as it meets the
eye of an American traveler. The English, with all
their egotism, do not appreciate that wonderful dis
play of wealth and refinement, which the surface of
their country presents. They do not and can not
enjoy the spectacle as an American does, for they are
born to it, and have no experience which teaches

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 659
them to estimate it by common and inferior stand
ards. Having said so much on this subject, I shall
not venture to speak of English society — of the lights
and shadows of life beneath the myriad roofs of towns
and cities. The subject would be too extensive, and
besides, it has been abundantly treated by others. I
only say, in passing, that the English people are best
studied at home. John Bull, out of his own house, is
generally a rough customer: here, by his fireside, with
wife, children, and friends, he is generous, genial,
gentlemanly. There is no hospitality like that of an
Englishman, when you have crossed his threshold.
Everywhere else he will annoy you. He will poke
his elbow into your sides in a crowded thoroughfare;
he will rebuff you if, sitting at his side in a locomo ¦
tive, you ask a question by way of provoking a little
conversation ; he will get the advantage of you in
trade, if he can ; he carries at his back a load of pre
judices, like that of Christian in Pilgrim's Progress,
and instead of seeking to get rid of them, he is always
striving to increase his collection. If he becomes a
diplomat, his great business is to meddle in- every
body's affairs ; if an editor, he is only happy in
proportion as he can say annoying and irritating
things. And yet, catch this same John Bull at home,
and his crusty, crocodile armor falls off, and he is the
very best fellow in the world — liberal, hearty, sin
cere — the perfection of a gentleman.
The relations of America to England are a subject

geO LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL, ,
of great interest to both countries. It would seem
that by every dictate of prudence, as well as of pro
priety, they should remain friends. We are of the
same kith and kin, have the same language, the same
faith, the same moral and social platform, the same,
or at least similar institutions. All these ties seem
to bind us in the bonds of peace and amity. To this
may be added the myriad relations of commercial in
terest. To do good to each other is virtually to earn
and bless our daily bread. And yet we have been twice
at war. There is a social war always being waged be
tween us. The presses of England and America seem
to conceive that they say their best things when they
say their worst, of the two countries. We must not,
then, put too much faith in consanguinity. Family
quarrels are proverbially the fiercest. It is a mourn
ful truth that the first murder was a fratricide.
What then is to be done ? One thing could and
should be done, in England. The press there is in
the hands of the ruling people. If, as is asserted in
England, there is a general feeling of good-will there
toward America, that should be made manifest by
the common vehicles of public opinion. Certainly
this has never yet been done. From the very be
ginning, the British press has been supercilious, hy
percritical, condemnatory of our country, its manners,
principles, institutions. Is it possible — so long as
this state of things shall continue — for the Amer
ican people to believe that the English nation do

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 661
not, in their hearts, cherish hostility toward this
country ?
It may, indeed, be said that the American press is
as little conciliatory toward England as that of Eng
land toward America. But, certainly, the good ex
ample should come from them. • They are the older
people — the mother country : their journals are more
immediately within the control and influence of lead
ing minds and influential men, than ours. And be
sides, all that is wanted on our part, to a good under
standing, is an assurance, a conviction of good-will,
toward us on the other side of the water. Amid all
our scolding at England, there is at the bottom ofthe
American heart, a profound respect for her. We care
^ery little what the French, or Dutch, or Germans, or
Russians, or Chinese, or Japanese, say or think of us ;
but if the English say any thing bad of us, we are
sure to resent it. Why can not something be done
to bring this mischievous war to an end ?
And yet how can it be effected? Let me ven
ture upon a suggestion : if the London Times — that
mighty personiflcation of John Bull — would always
be a gentleman, when he speaks of America, such
would be the influence of this high example, that I
should have some hope of seeing, even in my life
time,' a millennial spirit in the intercourse of the two
countries.

663 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,

LETTER XLIV.
London Thirty Years Ago— Its Oreat Increase — George IV. — Ascot Races
— The Duke of Wellington — Jacob Perkins and the Steam-gun — Tlie
Duke of Sussex— Duke of York— Hounslow Heath— Parliament— Can-
nin.g — Mackintosh — Brougham — Palmerstcm — House of Lords — Lord
Eldon — Rhio Rhio— Catalani — Signorina Garcia — Edward Irving— By
ron's Coffin.
My deab c ******
It is said that Mr. Webster remarked, while in
London, that his constant and predominant feeling
was that of wonder at its enormous extent : fourteen
thousand streets, two hundred thousand houses, fif
teen hundred places of public worship, three millions
of human beings — all crowded within the space of
seven miles square !
Yet London, when I first knew it, was not what it
is now. Its population has at least doubled since
1824. At that time Charing Cross was a filthy, tri
angular thoroughfare, a stand for hackney-coaches, a
grand panorama of showbills pasted over the sur
rounding walls, with the king's mews in the immediate
vicinity : this whole area is now the site of Trafalgar-
Square — one of the most irhposing combinations of
magnificent architecture and tasteful embellishments
in the world. This is an index of other and similar
changes that have taken place all over the city. Lon
don has been nearly as much improved as New York
within the last thirty years. I know a portion of it,

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 663
nearly a mile square, now covered with buildings,
which consisted of open fields when I first visited the
city. At the present day, London not only surpasses
in its extent, its wealth, its accumulations of all that
belongs to art — the richness of its merchandises, the
extent of its commerce, the vastness of its influence —
all the cities that now exist, but all that the world has
before known. What were Nineveh, or Babylon, or
Rome — even if they had an equal population — when
their relations were confined to the quarter of a single
hemisphere, and their knowledge did not embrace
the telescope, the mariner's compass, the steam-engine,
nor the telegraph — neither railroads nor the printing-
press ; — what were they in comparison with the me
tropolis of a kingdom, whose colonies now belt the
world, and whose influence, reaching every state and
nation under the sun, extends to the thousand mil
lions of mankind !
But what of London in 1824? King George IV.
was then on the throne, and though he was shy of
showing himself in public, I chanced to see him sev
eral times, and once to advantage — at Ascot Races.
This was a royal course, and brought together an
immense crowd ofthe nobility and gentry, as well as
an abundant gathering of gamblers and blacklegs.
For more than an hour his majesty stood in the pa
vilion, surrounded by the Duke of Wellington, the
Duke of York, the Marquis of Anglesea, and other
persons of note. He was a large, over-fat man, of

664 LETTERS  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
a rather sour and discontented countenance. All
the arts of the toilet could not disguise the wrin
kles of age, and the marks of dissipation and dilap
idation. His lips were sharp, his eye grayish-blue,
his wig chestnut-brown. His cheeks hung down
pendulously, and his whole face seemed pallid, bloat
ed, and flabby. His coat was a blue surtout, but
toned tight over the breast ; his cravat, a huge black
stock, scarcely sufficient to conceal his enormous,
undulating jowl. On his left breast was a glittering
star. He wore a common hat, the brim a little broad
er than the fashion. But for the star and the respect
paid to him, he might have passed as only an over
dressed and rather sour old rake. I noticed that his
coat set very close and smooth, and was told that he
was trussed and braced by stays, to keep his flesh in
place and shape. It was said to be the labor of at
least two hours to prepare him for a public exhibi
tion, like the present. He was a dandy to the last.
The wrinkles of his coat, after it was on, were cut out
by the tailor, and carefully drawn up with the needle.
He had the gout, and walked badly. I imagine there
were few among the thousands gathered to the spec
tacle, who were really less happy than his majesty—
the monarch of the three kingdoms.
I not only saw the Duke of Wellington on this,
but on many subsequent ocdasions. I think the por
traits give a false idea of his personal appearance.
He was really a rather small, thin, insignificant look-

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 665
mg man, unless you saw him on horseback. His
profile was indeed fine, on account of his high Ro
man nose, but his front face was meager, and the
expression cold, almost mean. His legs were too
short, a defect which disappeared when he was in
the saddle. He then seemed rather stately, and in a
military dress, riding always with inimitable ease, he
sustained the image of the great general. At other
times, I never could discover in his appearance any
thing but the features and aspect of an ordinary,
and certainly not prepossessing, old man. I say this
with great respect for his character, which, as a per
sonification of solid sense, indomitable purpose, steady
loyalty, and unflinching devotion to a sense of public
duty, I conceive to be one of the finest in British
history. At this period, our countryman, Jacob Perkins,
was astonishing London with his steam-gun. He
was certainly a man of extraordinary genius, and was
the originator of numerous useful inventions. At
the time of which I write, he fancied that he had dis
covered a new mode of generating steam, by which
he was not only to save a vast amount of fuel, but to
obtain a marvelous increase of power. So confident
was he of success, that he told me he felt certain of
being able, in a few months, to go from London to
Liverpool, with the steam produced by a gallon of
oil. Such was his fertility of invention, that while
pursuing one discovery, others came into his mind,
10*

666 LETTERS — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
and, seizing upon his attention, kept him in a whirl
of experiments, in which many things were begun
and comparatively nothing completed.
Though the steam-gun never reached any practical
result, it was for some time the admiration of London.
I was present at an exhibition of its wonderful per
formances in the presence of the Duke of Sussex, the
king's youngest brother, and the Duke of Welhng-
ton, with other persons of note. The general purpose
of the machine was to discharge bullets by steam,
instead of gunpowder, and with great rapidity — at
least a hundred a minute. The balls were put in a
sort of tunnel, and by working a crank back and
forth, they were let into the chamber of the barrel —
one by one — and expelled by the steam. The noise of
each explosion was like that of a musket, and when
the discharges were rapid, there was a ripping uproar,
quite shocking to tender nerves. The balls — carried
about a hundred feet across the smithy — struck upon
an iron target, and were flattened to the thickness of
a shilling piece.*

* Jacob Perkina was a native of Newburyport, Mass., born in 1776,
He was apprenticed to a goldsmith, and soon was noted for his ingenu
ity. Before the establishment of a national mint, he was employed, and
with success, in making dies for copper coin. At the age of twenty-four,
he invented the machine for cutting nails, which had a great effect over
the whole world. He next invented a starap for preventing counterfeit
bills, and then a check-plate, which was long adopted by law in Massa
chusetts. He now discovpred a mode of softening steel, by decarboni-
zation, which led to the use of softened steel for engraving. The results
of this discovery have been extensive— the bank-note engraving, now
brought to suoh perfection, being one of the most prominent. Steel

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 667
The whole performance was indeed quite formida
ble, and the Duke of Sussex — who was an enorraous,
red-faced man — seemed greatly excited. I stood close
by, and when the bullets flew pretty thick and the
discharge came to its climax, I heard hira say to the
Duke of Wellington, in an under-tone — " Wonder
ful, wonderful — d  d wonderful ; wonderful, won
derful — d  d wonderful ; wonderful, wonderful —
d  d wonderful !" and so he went on, without va
riation. It was in fact, save the profanity, a very
good commentary upon the perforraance.

engraving for fine pictures, was another, and this led to the Souvenirs —
making books the most desirable articles for presents — instead of rings,
necklaces, shawls — thus producing not only a new generation of publi
cations, but a revolution in the taste of society. This discovery Mr. Per
kins carried to England, and here he remained till his death in 1849. His
other inventions are very numerous : among these are the chain-pump,
the bathometer, to measure the depth of water, the pleometer, to meas
ure tho velocity of ships, together with a multitude of improvements in
various devices, from house-stoves to steam-engines.
After I left London, he so far improved his steam-gun, that he sent
balls through eleven planks of deal, an inch thick ! A report of his ex
periments iu 1825, before a committee, of which the Duke of Welling
ton was the head, describes the power exerted, as absolutely terrific.
Mr. Perkins's establishment was in Fleet-street, 69, when I was in
london. One of the superintendents of this was Mr. Charles Toppan,
now so well known in connection with the eminent firm of Toppan, Car
penter & Co. To his intelligence and kindness I waQ indebted for
much of the pleasure and profit of my first visit to London. Here also
was Asa Spencer — originally a watchmaker of New London, and the in
ventor of the geometric lathe, for copying medals, as well as other inge
nious and useful devices. He was a man of true genius— full of good
ness, modesty, and eccentricity.
The house of Mr. Perkins, at this period, was a familiar gathering
place of Americans in London— his charming daughters giving a sort
of American life and grace to all around them. His son, Angier M.
Perkins, a gentleman of great talent, worth, and kindliness, oontinnes
his father's establishment in London.

668 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
Having thus spoken of the Duke of Sussex, I mus*
say a few words of his brother, the Duke of York,
whom I had seen, dressed in a green frock-coat and
white pantaloons, at Ascot. He was there interested in
the race, for he had entered a famous courser by the
name of Moses, for one of the prizes. Some person
reflected upon him for this, inasrauch, as araong other
titles, he held that of bishop.* His ready reply was,
that he was devoted to Moses and the profits. De
spite his disgrace in the Flanders carapaign, and his
notorious profligacy, both as a gambler and a roue,
he was still a favorite araong the British people.
There was about him a certain native honorable-
ness and goodness of heart, which survived, even in
the raidst of his debaucheries. English loyalty has
the faculty of seeing the small virtues of its princes
through the magnifying power of the telescope ;
their vices are dwindled into comparative insignifi
cance by being observed with the instrument re
versed. And besides, the Duke of York was now
heir-apparent to the throne, and thus stood next the
king himself.
I saw nim not only at Ascot, but on other occa
sions — especially in a review of the first regiment
of foot-guards, at Hyde Park, and again at a re
view of four thousand horse-guards, at Hounslow
Heath. The foot-guards were grenadiers, and their
• It is a curious item in ecclesiastical history, that the Duke of York
was Bishop of Osnaburgh, a district in the kingdom of Hanover.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 669
caps were of enormous height. The duke hiraself
wore the sarae kind of cap, with a red coat of
course. Like all his brothers, he was a large man,
and of full habit, though not up to the dimensions
of the Duke of Sussex. He had a red, John Bull
face, without expression, save that of good feeding.
The Duke of Wellington, at this tirae, was among
the spectators. He was now in military dress, on a
fine chestnut-colored horse. His raotions were quick,
and frequently seemed to indicate impatience. His
general aspect was highly martial. Several ladies
as well as gentlemen on horseback, were admitted to
the review and within the circle of the sentries sta
tioned to exclude the crowd. I obtained adraission
for a crown — five shillings, I raean — for I had learned
that in England cash is quite as mighty as in Amer
ica. The privileged group of fair ladies and brave
men, gathered upon a grassy knoll, to observe the
evolutions of the soldiers, presented an assemblage
such as the aristocracy of England alone can fur
nish. Those who imagine that this is an effem
inate generation, should learn that both the men
and women, belonging to the British nobility, taken
together, are without doubt the finest race in the
world. One thing is certain, these ladies could stand
fire — for, although the horses leaped and pranced at
the discharges of the troops, their fair riders seemed
as much al ease as if upon their own feet. Their
horsemanship was indeed admirable, and suggested

670 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
those habits of exercise and training, to which their
full rounded forms and blooming countenances gave
ample testimony.
The review at Hounslow Heath, some eight miles
from London — and at the present day nearly covered
with buildings — comprised seven regiments of caval
ry, including the first and second of the horse-guards.
The latter were no doubt the finest troops of the kind
in the world — all the horses being large and black,
and finely groomed. The caparisons were of the
most splendid description, and the men picked for
the purpose. All the officers were men of rank, or
at least of good family.
The performances consisted of various marches
and countermarches — sometimes slow and sometimes
quick — across the extended plain. The evolutions
of the flying-artillery excited universal admiration.
When the whole body — about four thousand horse —
rushed in a furious gallop over the ground, the clash
of arras, the thunder of hoofs, the universal shudder
of the earth — all together created raore thrilling erao-
tions in the mind than any other military parade I
ever beheld. I have seen eighty thousand infantry
in the field, but they did not impress my imagina
tion as forcibly as these few regiments of cavalry at
Hounslow Heath. One incident gave painful effect
to the spectacle. As the whole body were sweeping
across the field, a single trooper was pitched from
his horse and fell to the ground. A hundred hoofs

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 671
passed over him, and trampled him into the sod. On
swept the gallant host, as heedless of their fallen
companion, as if only a feather had dropped from
one of their caps. The conflict of cavalry in real
battle, must be the most fearful exhibition which the
dread drama of war can furnish. On this occasion both
the king and the Duke of York were present, so that
it was one of universal interest. About fifty ladies
on horseback rode back and forth over the field, on
the flanks of the troops, imitating their evolutions.
You have no doubt heard enough of Parliament ;
but I shall venture to make a few extracts frora my
note-book respecting it, inasmuch as these present
slight sketches of persons of eminence who have now
passed from the scene. I have been often at the House
of Commons, but I shall now only speak of a debate
in July, 1824, upon the petition, I believe, of the city
of London, for a recognition of the independence of
some of the South American States. Canning was then
secretary of foreign affairs, and took the brunt of the
jattle made upon the ministry. Sir James Mackintosh
led, and Brougham followed him on the same side.
I shall not attempt to give you a sketch of the
speeches : a mere description of the appearance and
manner of the prominent orators will suffice. Sir
James — then nearly sixty years old — was a man
rather above the ordinary size, and with a fine, phil
anthropic face. His accent was decidedly Scotch, and
his voice shrill and dry. He spoke slowly, often hes

673 LB'ITERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
itated, and was entirely destitute of what we call elo
quence. There was no easy flow of sentences, no gush
of feeling, no apparent attempt to address the heart or
the imagination. His speech was a rigid lecture, rather
abstract and philosophical, evidently addressed to the
stern intellect of stern men. He had a good deal of
gesture, and once or twice was boisterous in tone and
manner. His matter was logical, and occasionally
he illustrated his propositions by historical facts, hap
pily narrated. On the whole, he made the impres
sion upon my mind that he was a very philosophical,
but not very practical, statesman.
Brougham, as you know, is one of the ugliest
men in the three kingdoms. His nose is long, and
the nostrils, slightly retreating, seem to look at you
— sometimes to mock you. The raouth is hooked
downward at either corner; the brow is rolled in
folds, like the hide of a rhinoceros. And yet, strange
to say, this odd composition of odd features makes
up a face of rather agreeable, and certainly very effec
tive expression. His figure is a little above the com
mon size, and at the time I speak of, was thin and
wiry — a characteristic which time has since kindly
converted into a moderate degree of portliness. He
had abundance of words, as well as ideas. In his
speech on the occasion I describe, he piled thought
upon thought, laced sentence within sentence, min
gled satire and philosophy, fact and argument, history
and anecdote, as if he had been a cornucopia, and

673
was anxious to disburden himself of its abundance.
In all this there were several hard hits, and Canning
evidently felt thera. As he rose to reply, I took
careful note of his appearance, for he was then, I im
agine, the most conspicuous of the British statesmen.
He was a handsome man, with a bald, shining pate,
and a figure slightly stooping in the shoulders. His
face was round, his eye large and full, his lips a little
voluptuous — the whole bearing a lively and refined
expression. In other respects his appearance was not
remarkable. His voice was musical, and he spoke
with more ease and fluency than most other orators
of the House of Comraons; yet even he hesitated,
paused, and repeated his words, not only in the be
ginning, but sometimes in the very midst of his argu
ment. He, however, riveted the attention of the raera
bers, and his keen observations frequently brought
out the ejaculation of "hear, hear," frora both sides
of the house. Broughara and Mackintosh watched
him with vigilant attention, now giving nods of as
sent, and now signs of disapprobation.
The difference between the manner of speaking in
the British Parliament and the American Congress,
has frequently been the subject of remark. There is
certainly great heaviness, and a kind of habitual
hesitation, in nearly all English public speakers,
strikingly in contrast to the easy and rapid fluency,
so common with us. I have heard not only the fa
mous men just mentioned in the British Parliament,

674 LETTERS' — ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
but Peel, Palmerston, O'Connell, and others, and all
of them would have been considered dull speakers
— so far as mere manner is concerned — here in the
United States. I could never perceive in any of
them an approach to the easy and melodious flow of
Everett, the melting earnestness of Clay, or the ma
jestic thunderings of Webster.
On the occasion I am describing, Sir Francis Bur
nett* — then a raan of notoriety, but now almost
wholly forgotten — made a short speech. He was a
tall, slender person, with a singularly prominent fore
head, the rest of his face being comparatively thin and
insignificant. He was rather dandily dressed, and did
dled frora right to left as he was speaking, in a very
curious fashion. His voice was small, but penetra
ting. His attacks iipon the ministry were very di
rect, but he evidently excited no great attention. It

* The history of this individual is curious. He was born in 1770 —
and though the youngest sou of a youngest son, by a series of calamitous
deaths, he succeeded to the title and estates of his affluent and ancient
family. His wealth was increased by his marrying, in 1793, the daugh
ter of Coutts, the banker. In 1802, after a hot contest, he was returned
to Parliament for Middlesex, but the House found the election void, and
imprisoned the sheriffs. In 1807, while he w.is disabled by a duel, he
was chosen for Westminster, and continued to represent that borough
for nearly thirty years. He was of a turbulent disposition, and having
quarreled with the House of Commons, resisted the speaker's warrant
for his arrest, thus creating an excitement in which several lives were
lost. When the sorgeant-at-arms wont to his house to arrest him, he
found him affectedly teaching a young child the Magna Charta ! He was
for some time imprisoned in the Tower. The general impression is that,
while professing democracy, he was a thorough aristocrat, at least in
feeling. This opinion was confirmed in 1885, when hc totally changed
his politics, and vehemently supported the tory side. He died in 18i4.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 675
seemed to me astonishing that he should ever- have
been a popular leader, for his whole appearance
was that of the affected and supercilious aristocrat.
The populace have very often been made the dupes
of men whose hearts were full of despotism, and
who, in flattering the masses, only sought the raeans
of gratifying their unprincipled love of power. Ev
ery careful observer has seen exaraples of this hollow
and base deraocracy, and one might easily suspect
Sir Francis Burdett to have been one of them.
Of course I visited the House of Lords — paying
two shillings and sixpence for admittance. The
bishops wore their surplices ; a few of the lords had
stars upon the breast, but raost of them were without
any badge whatever. The general aspect of the as
sembly was eminently grave and dignified. Eldon
was the chancellor — a large, heavy, iron-looking
man — the personification of bigoted conservatism.
He was so opposed to reforms, that he shed tears
when the punishment of death was abolished for
stealing five shillings in a dwelling-house ! When
I saw him, his head was covered with the official
wig: his face sufficed, however, to satisfy any one
that his obstinacy of character was innate.
While I was here, a committee from the House of
Coraraons was announced; they had brought up a
message to the Lords. The chancellor, taking the
seals in his hands, approached the committee, bow
ing three times, and they doing the sarae. Then

676 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
they separated, each moving backward, and bowing.
To persons used to such a ceremony, this might be
sublime ; to me, it was ludicrous — and all the more
so on account of the ponderous starchness of the chief
performer in the solemn farce. There was a sorae
what animated debate while I was present, in which
Lords Liverpool, Lauderdale, Harrowby, and Grey
participated ; yet nothing was said or done by either
that would justify particular notice at this late day.
A great event happened in the musical world while
I was in London — the appearance of Catalani at the
Italian opera, after several years of absence. The
play was Le Nozze di Figaro. I had never before seen
an opera, and could not, even by the enchantments
of music, have my habits of thought and my common
sense so completely overturned and bewitched, as to
see the whole business of life — intrigue, courtship,
marriage, cursing, shaving, preaching, praying, lov
ing, hating — done by singing instead of talking,
and yet feel that it was all right and proper. It re
quires both a musical ear and early training, fully to
appreciate and feel the opera — which aims at a union
of all the arts of rhetoric, poetry, and music, enforced
by scenic representations, and the intense enthusiasm
of congregated and sympathetic masses. Even when
educated to it, the English, as well as the Americans,
have too practical a nature and are too much grooved
with business habits, to give themselves up to it, as is
done in Italy, and in some other parts of the continent.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 677
Madame Catalani was a large, handsome woman, a
little masculine, and past forty. She was not only a
very clever actress, but was deemed to have every
musical merit — volume, compass, clearness of tone,
surpassing powers of execution. Her whole style
was dramatic, bending even the music to the senti
ments of the character and the song. Some of her
displays were almost terrific, her voice drowning the
whole soul in a flood of passion. I could appreciate,
unlettered as I was in the arts of the opera, her ama
zing powers — though to say the truth, I was quite as
much astonished as pleased. Pasta and Garcia — -
both of whom I afterwards heard — gave me infinitely
greater pleasure, chiefly because their voices pos
sessed that raelody of tone which excites sympathy
in every heart — even the most untutored. Madame
Catalani gave the opera a sort of epic grandeur — an
almost tragic vehemence of expression ; Pasta and
Garcia rendered it the interpretation of those soft and
tender emotions which haunt the soul, and for the
expression of which God seems to have given music
to mankind. It was, no doubt, a great thing to hear
the greatest cantatrice of the age, but my remem
brance of Madame Catalani is that of a prodigy,
rather than an enchantress. On the occasion I am
describing, she sang, by request, Rule Britannia,
between the acts, which drew forth iraraense ap
plause, in which I heartily joined — not that I liked
the words, but that I felt the rausic.

678 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
It was about this time that a great attraction was
announced at one of the theatres — nothing-less than
the king and queen of the Sandwich Islands, who
had graciously condescended to honor the perform
ance with their presence. They had come to visit
England, and pay their homage to George the Fourth;
hence the government deemed it necessary to receive
them with hospitality, and pay them such attentions
as were due to their rank and royal blood. The
king's name was Tamehamaha, but he had also the
sub-title or surnarae of Rhio-Rhio — which, being in
terpreted, raeant Dog of Dogs. Canning's wit got the
better of his reverence, and so he profanely suggest
ed that, if his majesty was Dog of Dogs, what must
the queen be? However, there was an old man about
the court who had acquired the title of Poodle, and
he was selected as a fit person to attend upon their
majesties. They had their lodgings at the Adelphi
Hotel, and might be seen at all hours of the day,
looking at the puppet-shows in the street with in
tense delight. Of all the institutions of Great Bri
tain, Punch and Judy evidently made the strongest
and raost favorable irapression upon the royal party.
They were, I believe, received at a private inter
view by the king at Windsor ; every thing calculated
to gratify them was done. I saw them at the thea
tre, dressed in a European costurae, with the addition
of some barbarous finery. The king was an enor
mous man — six feet, three or four inches ; the queen

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 679
was short, but otherwise of ample dimensions. Be
sides these persons, the party comprised five or six
other members of the king's household. They had
all large, round, flat faces, of a coarse, though good-
humored expression. Their complexion was a ruddy
brown, not very unlike that of the American Indians ;
their general aspect, however, was very different, and
entirely destitute of that mysterious, ruminating air
which characterizes our children of the forest. They
looked with a kind of vacant wonder at the play,
evidently not comprehending it; the farce, on the
contrary, seemed greatly to delight them. It is sad
to relate that this amiable couple never returned to
their country ; both died in England — victiras either
to the climate, or the change in their habits of liv
ing.* * The chief whom I have here noticed was Tamehamaha II. Hia
name is now generally spelled Kamehamaha, and his other title is writ
ten Liho-Liho. They sailed in the British ship L'Aigle, October, 1823,
and arrived at Portsmouth, May, 1824. Of the twenty-five thousand
dollars shipped in their chests, only ten thousand were found — twelve
thousand having been robbed, and three thousand taken for pretended
expenses. Kamamalu, the principal queen, and the two or three infe
rior wives of his majesty, exhibited themselves at flrst in loose trowsers
ajid velveteen bed-gowns — but ere long their waists, for the first time,
were subjected to corsets, and their forms to Parisian fashions. They
wore native turbans, which became the rage in high circles. The king
was dressed in the English style, with certain embellishments denoting
his rank. They generally behaved with propriety, though one of the
party seeing a mullet, resembling a species common in the Sandwich
Islands, seized it and hurried home, where their majesties devoured it
raw, probably finding it the sweetest morsel they bad tasted since they
left home. In June, 1824, the whole party were attacked by the mea
sles, Manui, the steward, first, and the king next. On the evening of
the Sth the queen died, having taken an affectionate leave of her hus
band. His heart seemed to be broken, and on the 14th he breathed hia

680 LETTERS  ^BIOGRAPHICAL,
One or two items more, and this chapter shall oe
closed. Among the prominent objects of interest in
London at this period was Edward Irving, then
preaching at the Caledonian Chapel, Cross-street, Hat
ton Gardens. He was now in the full flush of his
fame, and such was the eagerness to hear him that it
was difficult to get adraission. People of all ranks,
literary raen, philosophers, statesmen, nobleraen, per
sons of the highest name and influence, with a full and
diversified representation of the fair sex, crowded to
his church. I was so fortunate as to get a seat in the
pew of a friend, a privilege which I appreciated all
the more, when I counted twenty coroneted coaches
standing at the door — some of those who came in
them, not being able to obtain even an entrance into
the building. The interior was crowded to excess;
the alleys were full, and even fine ladies seemed
happy to get seats upon the pulpit stairway. Persons
of the highest title were scattered here and there, and
cabinet ministers were squeezed in with the mass of
common humanity.
Mr. Irving's appearance was very remarkable. He
was over six feet in height, very broad-shouldered,
violently cross-eyed, with long black hair hanging in
heavy, twisted ringlets down upon his shoulders.
His complexion was pallid yet swarthy, the whole
last. The bodies of the royal pair were taken to their native islands,
and there interred with great pomp. The remainder of the party re
turned to their home, one of them, however, Kapihe, dying ou the way,
at Valparaiso.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 681
expression of his face — half sinister and half sancti
fied — creating in the mind of the beholder a painful
doubt whether he was a great saint or a great sinner.
He wore a black-silk gown, of rich material and am
ple, graceful folds. His hair was sedulously parted
so as to display one corner of his forehead, which a
white hand and a very pure linen handkerchief fre
quently wiped, yet so daintily as not to disturb the
love-locks that inclosed it.
There was a strange mixture of saintliness and
dandyism, in the whole appearance of this man. His
prayer was affected — strange, quaint, peculiar, in its
phraseology — yet soleran and striking. His reading
of the psalra was peculiar, and a fancy or feeling
crossed my mind that I had heard soraething like it,
but certainly not in a church. There was a vague rain-
gling in my imagination of the theatre and the house
of worship : of foot-lights, a stage, a gorgeous throng of
spectators — an orchestra and a troop of players — and
side by side with these — ^there seeraed to corae a psalm
and a text and a preacher. I was in fact seeking to
trace out a resemblance between this strange parson
and some star of Drury Lane or Covent Garden. Sud
denly I found the clew : Edward Irving in the pulpit
was imitating Edmund Kean upon the stage ! And he
succeeded admirably — his tall and coramanding per
son giving him an iraraense advantage over the little,
insignificant, yet inspired actor. He had the tones of
the latter—- his gestures, his looks even, as I had often

683 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
seen hira in Richard the Third and Shylock. He had
evidently taken lessons of the renowned tragedian,
but whether in public or private, is not for rae to say.
The text was Genesis iii. 17, 18. I will extract
frora my notes, for your entertainment, a rough sketch
ofthe discourse.
" This malediction — ' Cursed is the ground for thy
sake ; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of
thy life ; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth
to thee : and thou shalt eat the herb of the field' —
this was the charter under which man held his exist
ence till the birth of Christ, when the benediction —
' Peace on earth and good-will to man,' was pro
nounced. Since that time, these two principles and
powers — the malediction and the benediction — have
been at strife. To trace sorae of the consequences
of this conflict is our present business.
" Moses discriminates between the two natures of
man, by first stating the creation of his body as the
completion of one distinct part or portion of his na
ture, and then the Creator breathing into him a liv
ing soul, or more literally the spirit of lives, thus
completing the other portion of his being.
" I can not but pause a moraent to note the stri
king coincidence between the stateraent of Moses
and the result of philosophic speculation, which now
makes the same discrimination; the study of the
structure of the body, or physiology, being one
iDranch of science, and the study of the mind or spi-

683
rit, called metaphysics, being another. The French
school, some time since, blended the whole nature of
man in one physical organization, and Helvetius
found in_the sensibility of the fingers, all the rudi
ments — the entire foundation — of the moral and in
tellectual faculties of man. This crept into English
philosophy, until the iraraortal mind was degraded
into a mere tool of the body : the crumbling, earthy
tenement alone was regarded, while the godlike in
habitant was made its servant and its slave.
" Let us do justice to the truth ! The spirit con
sists of three parts: the understanding, which dis
courseth of sensible ideas and powers — the basis of
what is called knowledge ; the reason, which dis
courseth of insensible objects and insensible ideas,
and has relation to principles and abstract science ;
and conscience, which discourseth of duty, and hath
regard to the relations between man and man, and
also between man and his Maker.
" Now the proper vocation of the body is to min
ister to the spirit in this threefold character.
" Yet, I grieve to say it — the conduct of mankind
reverses this system : it is the faculties of the spirit,
debased from their high mission, which are every
where made subservient to the body. I am loth to
pain and disgust you with pictures in evidence of
this, but every speculation should be supported by
fact. I beg you therefore to consider the state of
things in this city — the Babylon around us. Divest

684

LETTERS  JJIOGR-APHICAL,

yourselves of that magic influence which is exercised
by the term — people; of that morbid fashion of see
ing in low vice and humble misery, only matter for
mirth and song ; of that cruel taste which haunts the
dark and dismal courts and lanes and labyrinths of
labor, of want and wretchedness, for subjects for the
pencil and the stage. Stand all aloof from the sad
jollity with which unthinking men survey such scenes.
Wrap the mantle of immortality about thee and go
forth, and in the scales of eternity, weigh the things
thou seest !
" In the gray of the morning, you hear beneath
your casement the heavy tread of the laborer plod
ding to his toil. This gradually increases, till one
pervading volume of sound shakes every part of the
city. Go forth and study the scene — the producers
of this mighty uproar — the wagoner plodding by the
side of his heavy wain, the porter staggering beneath
his burden, the scavenger picking and prowling among
the offal — the hundreds, the thousands, pouring along
in a tide, and bent on their various labors. Survey
them as they pass, and how fearfully is the heart srait
ten with the fact that these are reversing the true order
of human destiny : not one among thera is subjecting
the body to the mind — all are subjecting the mind
to the body — all are submitting themselves to the
Malediction of the outcasts of Eden, as if the Bene ¦
diction of the gospel had never been pronounced.
From the gray dawn to the deep night, these beings,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 685
to whom is offered the bread of iraraortal life, are
occupied with the poor thought of gaining a few
crusts to feed the raortal body I
"If we turn to the higher classes, the picture is
equally dark, and perhaps even more discouraging.
Whatever we may here find of spiritual culture or
intellectual tastes, we still see that the cares, the pas
sions, the desires of the body, though they may often
be disguised and refined, still master the soul. The
being, whose iraagination is capable of reaching the
stars, and whose power of faith raight carry hira to
the throne of God and the companionship of angels
and just men raade perfect — those whose ample means
raise them above the groveling necessities of life-
still cling to this earthly footstool, still think only of
the pleasures of this fleeting animal existence. What
ever there may be of soul, in their pursuits, is a sub
jugation of it to the senses. A subtle epicureanisra
pervades the whole atraosphere they breathe. Pleas
ure, ambition, pride, the desire of honor, of wealth,
of name, farae — all hopes, all fears — center in the
little narrow kingdora of these poor five senses.
These which were given only as windows from which
the soul might look out upon immortality, are used
as doors and avenues by which the soul passes into
its prison-house of earthly enjoyments. Thus the
gifted, the rich, the exalted, the favorites of fortune
— are, after all, forgetful of the bread of life, and
while pampering the body with oil and wine, are

686 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
starving the soul with shriveled husks and unsatis
fying straw.
" How hard, how disheartening is the steep ascent
of duty, which calls upon us to contend with a world
thus embattled against the truth. And yet, as sol
diers of the cross, we may not ground our arms. If
we can not do all we would, let us at least accomphsh
what we raay. To-day, I ask you here to join rae, not
in the irapossible, but the possible. If the poor re
ject the bread of life, it is perhaps not altogether by
choice : the heavy sin of Dives, who, being rich and
able to choose, preferred a sensual life, is not laid
upon their souls — the groveling necessities of Lazarus
have subdued them, crushed them, mastered them. It
is through ignorance, through peculiar temptations,
throiigh the cares and needs of life, that they thus go
astray. The mother, uncertain of bread, alike for her
self and her offspring — the father, anxious lest he shall
not have a shelter for those whom God has given him
— how can these think of aught but the immediate
pressing cares of the body ? How can these slaves of
mortality put on immortality ? Let Christianity kneel,
mourning and penitent, at the throne of grace, and
confessing that these things are so, rouse itself, and
say they shall be so no longer. I_see around me the
great, the powerful : let them speak, and the work is
done. Let us carry Comfort to the poor, and as that
enters one door, the Gospel with its glad tidings, will
corae in at the other Each may do something.

- HISTOEICAL, ANEODOTICAX, ETC. 687
None are too high, none too humble, to assist in this
glorious work. The rich, the proud, the strong, in
the confidence of their strength, may reject even the
bread of life ; the poor will welcome it. Relieve the
famished body from its suffering for the want of daily
bread, and the soul, delivered from its humiliation,
will ascend to the throne of grace, and God will bless
It, and he will bless you also who have ministered to
the good work."
This is a mere outline of the discourse, and only
gives an idea of its general drift and argument. The
phraseology — which was rich, flowing, redundant, and
abounding in illustration, and seemed to me carefully
modeled after that of Jeremy Taylor — I did not at-
tenipt to preserve. In spite of the evident affectation,
the solemn dandyism, the dramatic artifices of the
performer — for, after all, I could only consider the
preacher as an actor — the serraon was very irapres-
sive. Sorae of the pictures presented to the imagi
nation were startling, and once or twice it seemed
as if the whole audience was heaving and swelling
with intense eraotion, like a sea rolling beneath the
impulses of a tempest. The power of the thought,
aided by the deep, sympathetic voice of the speaker,
and still further enforced by his portentous figure
and emphatic action, overrode all drawbacks, and
carried the whole heart and imagination along upon
its rushing tide. Considered as a display of orator
ical art, it was certainly equal to any thing I have

688 LETTERS — BIOGEAPHICAL,
ever heard from the pulpit; yet it did not appeal
to me calculated to have any permanent effect in
enforcing Christian truth upon the conscience. The
preacher seemed too much a player, and too little an
apostle ; the afterthought was, that the whole effect
was the result of stage trick, and not of sober truth.
The character and career of Edward Irving present
a strange series of incongruities. He was born in Scot
land, in 1792 ; he became a preacher, and acquired
speedy notoriety, as rauch by his peculiarities as his
merits. He attracted the attention of Dr. Chalmers,
and through his influence was for a time assistant
minister in the parish of St. John's, at Glasgow.
From this place he was called to the Caledonian
Chapel, where I heard him. His farae continued to
increase ; and having published a volurae of dis
courses, under the quaint title, "For the Oracles of
God, four Orations; for Judgraent to come, an Ar
guraent in nine Parts" — three large editions of the
work were sold in the space of six months. Where-
ever he preached, crowds of eager listeners flocked to
hear him. His eccentricities increased with his farae.
He drew out his discourses to an enorraous length,
and on several occasions protracted the services to
four hours ! He soon became mystical, and took to
studying unfulfilled prophecy, as the true key to the
interpretation of the scriptures. From this extrava
gance, he passed to the doctrine that Christians, by
the power of faith, can attain to the working of mira-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 689
cles and speaking with unknown tongues, as in the
primitive ages. Such at last were his vagaries, that
he was cut off from communion with the Scottish
Church ; in consequence, he becarae the founder of a
sect which continues to the present tirae in England,
bearing the title of Irvingites. Worn out with anx
iety and incessant labors, he died at Glasgow, while
on a journey for his health, in 1834, at the early age
of forty-two.
The history of this extraordinary raan teaches us
various important lessons. It shows us that genius,
even though it be allied to sincerity, is easily led
astray by flattery and personal vanity; that eccentri
city naturally ends in extravagance ; that fanaticism is
not superior to the use of artifice and affectation, even
when they invade the pulpit and assume the badge
of the preacher of the gospel ; in short, that a man of
great gifts, if so be he is not controlled by comraon
sense — if he do not conforra his conduct to that
every-day but safe regulator, called propriety — is very
apt to become a misguiding and bewildering light to
his fellow-men, just in proportion as his abilities may
surpass those of other persons. A large observation
of mankind has satisfied me that a great raan, even
though he be a preacher, if he despises the sugges
tions of good sense, decency, congruity, usually be
comes a great curse. Nearly all the religious vaga
ries which have led the world astray, have originated
with individuals of this character. A large portion
11*

690 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
of the infidelity of mankind has its origin in the
foibles of those who are set up as the great lights of
Christianity. One more event I must notice — the arrival in Lon
don of the mortal remains of Lord Byron, and their
lying in state previous to interraent. His body had
been preserved in spirits, and was thus brought from
Greece, attended by five persons of his lordship's
suite. Having been transferred to the coffin, it was
exhibited at the house of Sir Edward Knatchball,
No. 20 Great George-street, on Friday and Saturday,
the 9th and 10th of July, 1824. It caused a profound
sensation, and such were the crowds that rushed to
behold the spectacle, that it was necessary to defend
the coffin with a stout wooden railing. When I ar
rived at the pla:ce the lid was closed ; I was told,
however, that the countenance, though the finer lines
had collapsed, was so little changed as to be easily
recognized by his acquaintances. The general mus
cular form of the body was perfectly preserved.
The aspect of the scene, even as I witnessed it,
was altogether very irapressive. The coffin was cov
ered with a pall, enriched by escutcheons wrought in
gold. On the top was a lid, set round with black
plumes. Upon it were these words —
"GEORGE GORDON NOEL BYRON.
BoEN IN London, 22d January, 1788 :
Died at Missolonghi, April 19th, 1824."

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 691
At the head of the coffin was an urn containing the
ashes of his brain and heart — this being also covered
with a rich pall, wrought with figures in gold. The
windows were closed, and the darkened roora was
feebly illurained by nuraerous wax-tapers.
And this was all that reraained of Byron I What
a lesson upon the pride of genius, the vanity of rank,
the fatuity of fame — all leveled in the dust, and de
spite the garnished pall and magnificent coffin, their
possessor was bound to pass through the same pro
cess of corruption as the body of a common beggar.
And the soul — the soul?
Ah, what questions rose in my mind as I stood
beside that coffin ! Where art thou, Byron ? What
art thou? I have never seen thee — I have never
known thee, face to face : yet hast thou often spoken
to me, and in words that can never die ! Thou art
not dead-^that were impossible : speak to me, then I
Tell rae — for such as thou raight break the seal of
the grave — what art thou? — where art thou? Wliis-
per in my ear the dread secret of the tomb ! Thou
art silent — even thou. How fearful, how terrible is
that spell which holds lips like thine — Childe Harold,
Manfred, Cain — ^in the bondage of perpetual stillness!
This, indeed, is death I

693 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,

LETTER XLV.
Return to America — Removal to Boston — Literary position qf Boston —
Prominent literary characters— The Press — The Pulpit — the Bar — New
York now the literary metropolis — My publication of various works—
The Legendary— N. P. Willis — The era of Annuals — The Token — The
artists engaged in it — Tlie auth/yrs — Its terminat'ion.
Mt deae 0 ***** *
Having made a hurried trip to Paris and back
to London, I departed for Liverpool, and thence em
barked for the United States, arriving there in Octo
ber, 1824. I reraained at Hartford till October, 1826,
as already stated, and then reraoved to Boston, with
the intention of publishing original works, and at the
same time of trying my hand at authorship — the latter
part of my plan, however, known only to myself. .
At that tirae, Boston was notoriously the literary
raetropolis of the Union — the adraitted Athens of
America. Edward Everett had established the North
American Review,* and though he had now just left
the editorial chair, his spirit dwelt in it, and his fame
lingered around it. Rich'd H. Dana, Edw'd T. Chan
ning, Jared Sparks, George Bancroft, and others, were
among the rising lights of the literary horizon. The
* The North American was founded in 1815, by William Tudor, whc
had previously been one of the principal supporters of the Monthly
Anthology. Mr. Everett, however, may be said to have given perma
nency to the publication by his masterly administration of the editorial
department.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 693
newspaper press presented the witty and caustic Gal
axy, edited by Buckinghara ; the dignified and schol
arly Daily Advertiser, conducted by Nathan Hale ;*
and the frank, sensible, raanly Centinel, under the ed
itorial patriarch — Benjamin Russell. Channing was
in the pulpit and Webster at the forum. Society was
strongly impressed with literary tastes; genius was
respected and cherished : a man, in those days, who
had achieved a literary fame, was at least equal to a
president of a bank, or a treasurer of a manufactur
ing company. The pulpit shone bright and far, with
the light of scholarship radiated from the naraes of
Beecher, Greenwood, Pierpont, Lowell, Palfry,
Doane, Stone, Frothingham, Gannett : the bar also
reflected the glory of letters through H. G. Otis,
Charles Jackson, William Prescott, Benjarain Gor
ham, Willard Philips, Jaraes T. Austin, araong the
older members, and Charles G. Loring, Charles P.
Curtis, Richard Fletcher, Theophilus Parsons, Frank
lin Dexter, J. Quincy, jr., Edward G. Loring, Benj.
R. Curtis, among the younger. The day had not yet
come when it was glory enough for a college profes
sor to marry a hundred thousand dollars of stocks,
or when it was the chief end of a lawyer to become
* The Boston Daily Advertiser was founded in March, 1814, and Mr.
Hale began his editorial career with it. It may be taken as the modei
ofthe highest class of newspapers in the United States — able, calm, sin
cere, wise, and gentlemanly. It would be difficult to name a single jour
nal in any country which, in a union of these qualities, takes rank above
it. In the United States there are some which emulate it, but few, if
any, which surpass it.

694 LETl-ERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
the attorney of an insurance company, or a bank, or
a manufacturing corporation. Corporations, without
souls, had not yet become the masters and moulders of
the soul of society. Books with a Boston imprint had
a prestige equal to a certificate of good paper, good
print, good binding, and good matter. And while
such was the state of things at Boston, how was it at
New York? Why, all this tirae the Harpers, who
till recently had been raere printers in Dover-street,
had scarcely entered upon their career as pubhshers,*
and the Appletons,t Putnara, Derby, the Masons, and
other shining lights in the trade of New York at the
present tirae, were either unborn, or in the nursery,
or at school.
What a revolution do these simple items suggest —
wrought in the space of thirty years ! The scepter
has departed frora Judah : New York is now the
* James Harper, the eldest of the four brothers now associated in the
concern, served his time as apprentice to the trade of printing to Abm.
Paul, of New York ; he and his brother John coramenced as printers
in Dover-street, 1817 ; in 1818, having removed to .Fulton-street, they
printed and published Locke's Essays, which was their first enterpriso
as publishers. For a long tirae their publications were almost exclu
sively foreign books : at the present time, three-fourths are American
works. Their Magazine pubhshes about one hundred and seventy
thousand numbers a month, and surpasses any other publication of the
kind in its circulation. The publishing establishment of the Messrs.
Harper, the legitimate result of industry, discretion, energy, and prob
ity, is justly the pride of New York, and one of the reflected glories of
our literature, probably surpassing every other establishment of tho
kind in the world in its extent and the perfectness of its organization.
+ The present eminent publishing house of Appleton & Co., consisting
of Mr. W. Appleton and his four brothers, was founded by their father,
Daniel Appleton, who came from New England to New Y^ork about the
year 1826. He died in 1849, aged fifty-eight.

695
acknowledged metropolis of American literature, as
well as of art and commerce. Nevertheless, if we
look at Boston literature at the present time, as re
flected in the publishing lists of Messrs. Little, Brown
& Co., Ticknor & Fields, Philips, Sampson & Co.,
Crocker & Brewster, Gould & Lincoln, we shall see
that the light of other days has not degenerated.
Is it not augmented, indeed — for since the period I
speak of, Prescott, Longfellow, Hawthorne, Whipple,
Holmes, Lowell, Hillard, have joined the Boston con
stellation of letters ?
It can not be interesting to you to know in detail
ray business operations in Boston at this period. It
will be sufficient to say, that among other works I
published an edition of the novels .of Charles Brock
den Brown, with a life of the author, furnished by
his widow, she having a share of the edition. I also
published an edition of Hannah More's works, and
also of Mrs. Opie's works — these being, I believe, the
first complete collections of the writings of these sev
eral authors. In 1827 I published Sketches by N. P.
Willis, his first adventure in responsible authorship.
The next year I issued the Coramon-place Book of
Prose, the first work of the now celebrated Dr. Chee
ver. This was speedily followed by the Coraraon-place
Book of Poetry and Studies in Poetry, by the sarae
author.* * Among my lesser publications were Beauties of the Souvenirs, His-
Vory ofthe Kings and Queens of France, Beauties of the Waverley Nov-

696 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
In 1828, 1 published a first, and soon after a second,
volurae of the Legendary, designed as a periodical,
and to consist of original pieces in prose and verse,
principally illustrative of American history, scenery,
and manners.* This was edited by N. P. Willis, and
was, I believe, his first editorial engagement. Among
els, Blair's Outlines of Ancient History, Blair's Outlines of Chronology,
Blair's History of England, C. A. Goodrich's Outlines of Modern Geog
raphy, the American Journal of Education, issued monthly, Poems by
Mrs. Sigourney, Eecords of the Spanish Inquisition, translated from
the original documents by S. Kettell, Comstook's Mineralogy, Child's
Botany, Sad Tales and Glad Tales by G. Mellen, Mary's Journey, Memoirs
of a New England Village Choir, Specimens of American Poetry, 3 vols.,
edited by S. Kettell, Universal History, illustrated, copied, with addi
tions, from Straus, the Garland of Flora, Balbi's Geography, edited by
T. G. Bradford, Historical Cyclopaedia, edited by F. A. Durivage, and
doubtless some others, which I have forgotten. These' were mostly
original works. After 1885, I ceased to be a publisher, except for my
own works ; since 1845, these have been entirely published by others.
* I give a few extracts from a criticism of this work upon its first ap
pearance : these will serve to show the estimate put upon some of the
productions of popular authors at that time, by a noted critic; they will
also show a state of things strikingly in contrast with the habits of the
present day — for the reviewer found time and patience to notice, seria
tim, every article in the book, some thirty in number. This was the
(lay of great things in criticism, and small things in the production of
materials for criticism. " EEVIEW.— THE LEGENDARY.
"It would be a reproach to our country, if the proprietor ofa work of
this nature, got up under circumstances so favorable to the growth of
our native literature — even if the Legendary were no better than the
mob of books that one may see every day of the year pouring forth out
of the shops of people who pay more for puffs than for copyrights — a
reproach to our country, I vow, if he were to suffer by the enterprise.
If we are to have a literature of our own, we must pay for it ; and they
who are the flrst to pay for it, deserve to be the first to be repaid for it
¦ — with usury. * * *
" The first of the tales, by thc author of ' Hobomok,' 'is called tho
'Church ofthe Wilderness.' Here we have the serene, bold, and beau
tiful style of writing which bar' to be found fault with in the review of

697
the contributors I find the names of Halleck, Crosby,
Lunt, W. G. Clark, H. Pickering, J. 0. Rockwell,
Miss Sedgewick, Miss Francis, Mrs. Sigourney, Wil
lis, Pierpont, Cutter, I. M'Lellan, Jr., J. W. Miller,
and other popular writers of that day. It was kind
ly treated by the press, which generousl}' published

' Hobomok' — no, not of ' Hobomok,' of some other story by the same
author, the title of which I forget. What I said then, I say now.
" The second affair is a, piece by a young man of this town — Wm.
Gutter — whom I never suspected before of poetry. It is called the
Valley of Silence,' and of a truth will bear to be treated as poetry. *
* * But I do not believe that in a poem of forty lines, it would be fair
play for any author to repeat the same idea more than eighty times, or
that HnsHiNO and ehshing are altogether where they should be in the
forty lines now before rae. For exaraple, we have a bird that ' hushed
his breath,' and we have the hush of the slumbering air, and we have
echoes 'hushed in their caves,' and a 'hush that is grand, not awful,'
and a 'hushed worship,' and 'hushed voices,' and all those by-baby-
bunting epithets in one single poem i * * *
" ' Unwritten Poetry,' by N. P. W., the editor of the Legendary.
There are touches of exquisite beauty in this paper, and not a little of
what, to speak reverently of a brother poet, I should call heavenly non
sense. * * *
" ' Descriptive Sonnets,' by Mr. II. Pickering. I hate sonnets ; I
never saw a good one, and never shill.
" 'The Clouds:' Grenville Mellen. Would this were better — would
it were worthier of my young friend. Some of the ideas are beautiful,
and some powerful ; but the abrupt termination of almost every stanza,
the truncated air of the finest passages- a line being a period by itself
 who that knows poetry, or knows what poetry should be, can forgive 3
" ' The Pampas of Buenos Ayres,' by I. M'Lellan, jr. Here we have a
poet ; I do not mean to say that here we have poetry, or, properly speak
ing, much poetry— for some there certainly is in every paragraph ; but
simply that the author has within him a sure, and I believe a deep well-
of poetry. If he has, however, he will never know its depth, nor
what riches may lie there, till the waters have been troubled- by an
angel— if you like, for angels are mighty troublesome now, as well as of
yore, to the fountains of life and health.
" ' The Haunted Grave :' E. P. Blount. Never heard of this writer
before. Who is he ? He shows talent-strong, decided, peculiar talent.
"'Extract from a Journal,' &c. Mellen— liiey 'i A mere scratch or

698 LETTEES — BIOGRAPHICAL,
without charge, the best pieces in full, saving the
reading million the trouble of buying the book and
¦ paying for the chaff, which was naturally found with
the wheat. Despite this courtesy, the work proved
a miserable failure. The time had not come for such
a publication : at the present day, with the present
two of a free pen. The author, if it is he, will make a better figure in
prose yet than he ever made in poetry. I do not speak of this paper,
bnt of others that I know to be his.
" ' Grave of an Unknown Genius :" Joseph H. Nichols. Good poetry
here, though not much. The best is —
' And worthy of their harps was he,
Worthy to wake with them, the grand
War-anthem, or the music free
Of love, with burning lip and hand.'
'"Mere Accident:' N. P. Willis. Rather too Tom Moorish. How
ever, let that pass. For, do ye know, ye blue-eyed, fair-haired girls,
and ye of the dark, lamping eyes and a shadowy crown — do ye not
know that the old proverb about kissing and telling is not -worth a fig ?
I'll give you a better one : ' They that kiss never tell — and they that tell
never kiss.'
" ' The Nun,' by Emma G. Manly. High and pure and sensible
poetry. But who is Erama C. Manly? Is it not another narae fo.
N. P. W. ?
" 'Koraance in Eeal Life:' author of Redwood. This very sensible
and happy writer, if she had more courage, and were willing to tell the
very truth and nothing but the truth of our country manners, would be
more thought ofa hundred years hence than she is now.
" ' Ascutney :' Mrs. A. M. Wells. Upon my word, it is very encour
aging to see what a few of our Yankee women are about in the world of
literature. They only want fair play to shoot ahead of their teachers,
the hatted ones of our earth.
" 'Telling the Dream:' Willis. Heigho ! " Do dreams always prove
true, lanthe?" I say, brother Willis, you deserve to be whipped back
ward through your alphabet for the false quantity in that last line — the
very pith and marrow of the whole poem. Up with your fingers, and
count them; out with your hand for the ferule, or shut your eyes and
open your raouth, like a good boy, and see what the ladies will send
you. Aud then — 'Do drearas always prove true, lanthe?' ¦» * *
" ' The Bruce's Heart,' by the author of ' Moral Pieces.' Very good
poetry, and very like what a ballad of our time should be — a ballad of

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 699
accessories, and the present public spirit, I doubt not
that such an enterprise would be eminently successful.
I believe I have already alluded to the Age of An
nuals* — the first work of the kind, entitled the For
get-me-not, having been issued by the Ackermans of
London, in the winter of 1823, while I was in that city.
It was successfully iraitated by Carey & Lea, at Phil
adelphia, iu a work entitled the Atlantic Souvenir,
and which was sustained with great spirit for several
years. In 1828 I commenced and published the first
volume of tho Token, and which I continued for fif
teen years, editing it myself, with the exception of
the volume for 1829, which carae out under the aits-
pices of Mr. Willis. In 1836 the Atlantic Souvenir
ceased, and after that tirae, by arrangeraent with the
publishers, its title was added to that of the Token.
the war, I mean. But — I have always a but in reserve, you know — why
deal so with the Moors ? * * *
" ' Columbus,' by J. W. Miller. This man must be capable of writing
magnificent poetry. The proof :
Stands he upon the narrow deck
Of yon lone caravel,
Whose tall shape as with princely beck
JSonnd to the heaving swell ;
And when the conqueror o'er her side
Crossed meekly, rose with living pride." .--
From the Yankee, June 28, 1828.
* We are doubtless indebted to the Germans for originating the race
of Annuals, but Ackerman's Forget-me-not was the flrst attempt at pro
ducing thera with all the luxurious embellishments of art, aud which
became, in fact, their distinctive characteristic. At first the literary de
partment was held inferior to the mechanical, but at last, Scott, Eogers,
Campbell, Mrs. Hemans, Moore, &e., in England, and Bryant, Irving,
Halleck, in America, became contributors to these works ; nay, Bryant,
Sands, and Verplanck produced in New York an annual entitled tha
Talisman, and which was continued for three years

700 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
The success of this species of publication, stimula
ted new enterprises of the kind, and a rage for them
spread over Europe and America. The efforts ofthe
first artists and the first writers were at length drawn
into them, and for nearly twenty years every autumn
produced an abundant harvest of Diadems, Bijous,
Pearls, Gems, Amethysts, Opals, Amaranths, Bou
quets, Hyacinths, Amulets, Talismans, Forget-me-
nots, Remember-rae's, &c.* Under these seductive
titles, they became messengers of love, tokens of
friendship, signs and symbols of affection, and lux
ury and refinement ; and thus they stole alike into the
palace and the cottage, the library, the parlor, and the
boudoir. The public taste grew by feeding on these
* Besides these Annuals, there were, in England and the United
States, the following :
Gift, Keepsake, Souvenir, Literary Souvenir, Boudoir, Floral Offering,
Friendship's Offering, Iris, Laurel, Wreath, Jewel, Cabinet, Drawing-
room Annual, Pictorial Annual, Continental Annual, Picturesque An
nual, Fancy Annual, Court Album, Anniversary, Pearls of the East,
Pearls of the West, The Favorite, The Ehododendron, The Waif, The
Gleaner, The Eose, and many others. Among the works which may be
considered as successors of the Annuals, being all splendidly illustra
ted, there were Tableaux of Prose and Poetry, Baronial Halls of Eng
land, Authors of England, Artist's Sketch Book, Book of Art, Book
of the Passions, Calendar of Nature, Continental Sketches, Etched
Thoughts, Finden's Tableaux, Wanderings of Pen and Pencil, Tales oi
the Brave and the Fair, Poetry of the Year, British Ballads, Book of
Art, Book of the Passions, Gems of British Poetry, Lays of Ancient
Eorae, and a raultitude of others.
The effect of the circulation of such works as these, in creating and
extending a taste for the arts, and in their most exquisite forms, can only
be appreciated by those who have examined and reflected upon the sub
ject. Even in the United Stales alone, four thousand volumes of oue
of these works, at the price of twelve dollars each, have been sold in a
single season ! Not five hundred would have been sold in the sama
space of time, twenty years ago.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 701
luscious gifts, and soon craved even more gorgeous
works of the kind, whence came Heath's Book of
Beauty, Lady Blessington's Flowers of Loveliness,
Bulwer's Pilgrims of the Rhine, Butler's Leaflets of
Memory, Christmas araong the Poets, and many
others of similar design and execution. Many of
the engravings of these works cost five hundred
dollars each, and many a piece of poetry, fifty dollars
a page. In several of these works the generous pub
lic spent fifty thousand dollars a year !
At last the race of Annuals drew near the end of
its career, yet not without having produced a certain
revolution in the public taste. Their existence had
sprung, at least in part, from steel-engraving, which
had been discovered and introduced by our country
man, Jacob Perkins. This enabled the artist to pro
duce works of more exquisite delicacy than had ever
before been achieved ; steel also gave the large num
ber of impressions which the extensive sales of the
Annuals demanded, and which could not have been
obtained from copper. These charming works scat
tered the very geras of art far and wide, raaking
the reading mass familiar with the finest specimens
of engraving, and not only cultivating an appetite
for this species of luxury, but in fact exalting the
general standard of taste all over the civilized world.
And thus, though the Annuals, by name, have per
ished, they left a strong necessity in the public mind
for books enriched by all the embellishments of art.

703 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
Hence we have such works as the Woraen of the
Bible, Women of the New Testament, the Republican
Court, by Dr. Griswold, together with rich illustrated
editions of Byron, Rogers, Thomson, Cowper, Camp
bell, and others, including our own poets — Bryant,
Halleck, Sigourney, Longfellow, Reed, &c. Wood-
engraving has, meanwhile, risen into a fine art, and
lent its potent aid in making books one of the chief
luxuries of society, from the nursery to the parlor.
In comparison with these splendid works, the To
ken was a very modest affair. The first year I offered
prizes for the best pieces in prose and poetry. The
highest for prose was awarded to the author of
" Sorae Passages in the Life of an Old Maid." A
mysterious man, in a mysterious way, presented him
self for the money, and, giving due evidence of his
authority to receive it, it was paid to him, but who
the author really was, never transpired, though I had,
and still have, my confident guess upon the sub
ject.* Even the subsequent volumes, though they
" obtained favor in their day, did not approach the splen
dor of the modern works of a similar kind. Never
theless, some of the embellishments, by John Cheney, -f
* The prizes were one hundred dollars for the best piece in prose, and
the same for the best in verse. The judges — Charles Sprague, F. W.
P. Greenwood, and J. Pierpont — hesitated between two pieces for the
latter : The Soldier's Widow, by Willis, an'd Connecticut Eiver, by Mrs.
Sigourney. They finally recommended that the prize be divided be
tween them, which was accepted by the authors. *
t John Cheney, who may be regarded as the first of American engra
vers in sweetness of expression and delicacy of execution, was a native ol

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 703
Ellis, Smilie, Andrews, Hatch, Kelly, Danforth, Du
rand, and Jewett, engraved frora the designs of Alls-
ton, Leslie, Newton, Cole, Inman, Fisher, Doughty,
Chapman, Weir, Brown, Alexander, and Healey,
were very clever, even compared with the finest
works of art at the present day.
The literary contributions were, I believe, equal,
on the whole, to any of the Annuals, Araerican or
European. Here were inserted some df the earliest
productions of Willis, Hawthorne, Miss Francis, now
Mrs. Child, Miss Sedgewick, Mrs. Hale, Pierpont,
Greenwood, and Longfellow. Several of these first
made acquaintance with the public through the pages
of this work. It is a curious fact that the latter,
Longfellow, wrote prose, and at that period had
shown neither a strong bias nor a particular talent
for poetry.
The Token was continued annually till 1842,
when it finally ceased. The day of Annuals had, in
deed, passed before this was given up, and the last

Manchester, eight miles east of Hartford, Conn. When I first met him,
he was working at Hartford with Mr. Willard, a map engraver. I en
couraged him to come to Boston, and for several years, during which
time he visited London and Paris, l^e was wholly employed for the To
ken. His brother Seth, not less celebrated for his admirable portraits
in crayon, was also induced to come to Boston by me, raaking my house
at Jamaica Plain, his stopping place at the beginning. Both .these ad
mirable artists are wholly self-taught. They have six brothers, tha
youngest of whom made some valuable improvement in machinery
which led to the establishment of a silk manufactory at their native
place, which some of the rest have joined, and it has made all rich who
are concerned in it.

704 LETTERS — ^BIOGEAPHICAL,-
two or three years, it had only lingered out a poor
and fading existence. As a matter of business, it
scarcely paid its expenses, and was a serious draw
back upon my time and resources for fifteen years — ¦
a punishment no doubt fairly due to an obstinate
pride which made me reluctant to allow a work to
die in my hands, with which my name and feelings
had become somewhat identified.

LETTER XLVI.
The Comtrilmtors to the Token — N. P. -WiUis — N. Hawthorne— Miss Franeit
— Mr. Greenwood — Mr. Pierpont — Charles Sprague — Mrs. Sigowmey —
]iE,ss Sedgwick — Mrs. Osgood, and others — Quarrels between Authors and
PubUshers — Anecdotes — The Publishers' Festival.
Mt DEAE 0 ***** *
As to the contributors for the Token, you may
expect me to say a few words more. The most prom
inent writer for it was N. P. Willis ; his articles were
the most read, the most admired, the most abused,
and the most advantageous to the work. I published
his first book, and his two first editorial engagements
were with me ; hence the early portion of his literary
career fell under my special notice.
He had begun to write verses very early, and while
in college, before he was eighteen, he had acquired an
extended reputation, under the signature of Eoy. In

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 705
1827, when he was just twenty years old, I published
his volume entitled " Sketches." It brought out quite
a shower of criticism, in which praise and blame were
about equally dispensed : at the sarae tirae the work
sold with a readiness quite unusual for a book of
poetry at that period. It 'is not calculated to estab
lish the infallibility of critics, to look over these no
tices at the present day : raany of the pieces which
were doubly daraned have now taken their place
among the acknowledged gems of our literature, and
others, which excited praise at the time, have faded
from the public reraerabrance.
One thing is certain — everybody thought Willis
worth criticising.* He has been, I suspect, more writ-
* In 1831, there appeared in Boston a little book, of sorae fifty or sixty
pages, entitled, " Truth : A New Year's Gift for Scribblers." It was writ
ten by Joseph Snelling, who had been, I believe, an under offifeer in tho
United States army, and stationed in the Northwest, perhaps at Prairie
du Chien. He came to Boston, and acquired some notoriety as a ner
vous and daring writer — his chief desire seeming to be, notoriety. The
work was little more than a string of abuse, without regard to justice;
yet it was executed with point and vigor, and as it attacked everybody
who had written verses, it caused a good deal of wincing. The follow
ing is the exordium :
"Moths, millers, gnats, and butterflies, I sing-,
Far-darting Phoebus, lend my strain a sting;
Much-courted virgins, long-enduring Nine,
Screw tight the catgut of this lyre of mine:
If D-na, D-wes, and P-rp-nt ask your aid,
If W-ll-s takes to rhyming as a trade.
If L-nt and F-nn to Pindus' top aspire,
I too may hlameless beg one spark of flre;
Not snob as warmed tbe brains of Pope and Swifts
Witb less assistance I can make a shift:
To Gifford's bow and shafts I lay no claim —
He shot at hawks, bnt I at insects aim :
Tet grant, since I must war on Httle tblngts.
Just flame enough to singe their puny wings;

706 LETIEES  BIOGRAPHICAL,
ten about than any other literary man in our history.
Some of the attacks upon him proceeded, no doubt,
from a conviction that he was a man of extraordi
nary gifts, and yet of extraordinary affectations, and
the lash was applied in kindness, as that of a school
master to a loved pupil's* back ; some of them were
dictated by envy, for we have had no other example
of literary success so early, so general, and so flatter
ing. That Mr. Willis made mistakes in literature
and life — at the outset — may be admitted by his best
A feather besom, too, to bring them down,
And pins to stick them iu my beaver's crown.*'
* « # * •
Here are specimens from the body of the work :
"The wax still sticking to his fingers' ends.
The upstart Wh-tt-r, for example, lends
The world important aid to understand
What's said, and sung, and printed in the land.**
*****
"'Tis plain the county Cumberland, in Maine,
Contains no hospital for folks insane:
Though never there, the fact I nothing doubt,
Since N-al and M-ll-n run at large about.
When the moon waxes, plaintive M-ll-n howls;
But Johnny, like a bull-dog, snaps and growls;
Or strikes his brother poetasters mute
With harsh vibrations on his three-stringed lute."
*****
" Dear Halleck, Nature's favorite and mine,
Curst be the hand that plucks a hair of thine;
Accept the tribute ofa muse inclined
To how to nothing, save the power of mind.
Bard of Bozzaris, shall thy native shore
List to thy harp and mellow voice no more?
Shall we, with skill like thine so nigh at hand,
Import our music from a foreign land P
While Mirror M-rr-s chants in whimpering note,
And croaking D-na strains his screech-owl throat;
While crazy N-al to meter shakes his chains,
And fools are found to listen to his strains;
While childish Natty P. the public diddles.
And L-nL and E-ckw-11 scrape his second fiddles;

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 707
friends; for it must be reraerabered that before he
¦was five-an.d-twenty, he was raore read than any
other American poet of his time ; and besides, being
possessed of an easy and captivating address, he be
came the pet of society, and especially of the fairer
portion of it. Since that period, his life, on the
whole, has been one of serious, useful, and successful
labor. His reputation as a poet has hardly advanced,
and probably the public generally regard some of hia
early verses as his best. As an essayist, however, ho
While Brooks, and Sands, and Smith, and either Clark,
In cha^e of Phoebus, howl, and yelp, and bark —
Wilt thou bo silent? Wake, O Halleck, wake!
Thine and thy country's honor are at stake]
Wake, and redeem the pledge — thy vantage keep;
Tis pity, one like thee so long should sleep P*
* * * * *
** One bard there is I almost fear to name.
Much doubting whether to applaud or blame.
In P-rc-v-l's productions, wheat and chafP
Are mixed, like sailor's tipple, half and half;
But, duly bolted through the critic's mill,
I find the better part is wholesome stilL"
The following is a part of the amiable notice bestowed upou Willis :
"Muse, shall we not a few brief lines afford
To give poor Natty P. his meet reward ?
What has he done to be despised by all
Within whose hands his harmless scribblings fall?
Why, as in bandbox-trim he walks the streets,
Turns up the nose of every man he meets,
As if it scented carrion ? Why, of late.
Do all the critics claw his shallow pate?
True, he's a fool ;— if that's a hanging thing,
• Let Pr-nt-oe, Wh-tt-r, M-U-u also swing."
Willis replied contemptuously, but effectively, in some half-dozen
verses inserted in the Statesman, and addressed to Smelling Joseph.
The lines stuck to poor Snelling for the remainder of his life, and I
suspect, in fact, contributed to his downfall. As he had attacked
everybody, everybody joined in the chuckle. He soon fell into habits
of dissipation, which led from one degradation to another, till hw •nis-
erable career was ended.

708 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
stands in the first rank, distinguished for a keen sa
gacity in analyzing society, a fine perception of the
beauties of nature, an extraordinary talent for en
dowing trifles with interest and meaning. As a trav
eler, he is among the most entertaining, sagacious,
and instructive. It is within my knowledge, that
Mr. Webster was an admiring reader of his itinerary
sketches. His style is certainly peculiar — and is deemed af
fected, tending to an excess of refinement, and dis
playing an undue hankering for grace and melody —
sometimes sacrificing sense to sound. This might
onee have been a just criticism, but the candid reader
of his works now before the public, will deem it hy
percritical. His style is suited to his thought ; it is
flexible, graceful, musical, and is adapted to the play
ful wit, the spicy sentiment, the dramatic tableaux,
the artistic paintings of sea, earth, and sky, of which
they are the vehicle. In the seeming exhaustlessness
of his resources, in his prolonged freshness, in his
constantly increasing strength, Mr. Willis has refuted
all the early prophets who regarded him only as a
precocity, destined to shine a few brief years, and
fade away.
-A^ to his personal character, I need only say that
from the beginning, he has had a larger circle of
steadfast friends than almost any man within my
knowledge. There has been soraething in his works
which has made the fair sex, generally, alike his lite-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 709
rary and personal admirers. For so many favors, he
has given the world an ample return ; for, with all
his imputed literary faults — some real and some im
aginary — I regard him as having contributed more
to the arauseraent of society than almost any other
of our living authors.*
It is not easy to conceive of a stronger contrast
than is presented by comparing Nathaniel Hawthorne
with K P. Willis. The former was for a time one
of the principal writers for the Token, and his admi
rable sketches were published side by side with those
of the latter. Yet it is curious to remark that every
thing Willis wrote attracted iraraediate attention, and
excited ready praise, while the productions of Haw
thorne were almost entirely unnoticed.
The personal appearance and demeanor of these
two gifted young men, at the early period of which I
speak, was also in striking contrast. Willis was
slender, his hair sunny and silken, his cheek ruddy,
his aspect cheerful and confident. He raet society
with a ready and welcome hand, and was received
readily and with welcome. Hawthorne, on the con
trary, was of a rather sturdy form, his hair dark and

* Mr. N. P. Willis was the eon of Nathaniel Willis, of Boston, origi
nally a printer, but for a long time an editor, and much respected for
his industry, his good sense, his devotion to whatever he deemed his
duty, and his useful services rendered to morals, religion, Christianity,
and philanthropy. His wife was a woman of uncommon mental endow
ments ; her conversation was elegant, full of taste, reading, and refine
ment. The beautiful tributes which N. P. Willis has rendered to her
memory, are no more than was due from a gifted son to a gifted mother.

710 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
bushy, his eye steel-gray, his brow thick, his mouth
sarcastic, his complexion stony, his whole aspect
cold, moody, distrustful. He stood aloof, and sur
veyed the world from shy and sheltered positions.
There was a corresponding difference in the wri
tings of these two persons. Willis was all sunshine
and summer, the other chill, dark, and wintry; the
one was full of love and hope, the other of doubt
and distrust ; the one sought the open daylight — sun
shine, flowers, music, and found them everywhere —
the other plunged into the dim caverns of the mind,
and studied the grisly specters of jealousy, remorse,
despair. It is, perhaps, neither a subject of surprise
nor regret, that the larger portion of the world is so
happily constituted as to have been more ready to
flirt with the gay muse of the one, than to descend
into the spiritual charnel-house, and assist at the psy
chological dissections of the other.
I had seen some anonymous publication which
seemed to me to indicate extraordinary powers. I
inquired of the publishers as to the writer, and
through them a correspondence ensued between me
and "N. Hawthorne." This name I considered a dis
guise, and it was not till after many letters had pass
ed, that I met the author, and found it to be a true
title, representing a very substantial personage. At
this period he was unsettled as to his views; he
had tried his hand in literature, and considered him
self to have met with a fatal rebuQ" frora the reading

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 711
world. His mind vacillated between various pro
jects, verging, I think, toward a mercantile profession.
I combated his despondence, and assured him of tri
umph, if he would persevere in a literary career.
He wrote numerous articles, which appeared in
the Token ; occasionally an astute critic seemed to
• see through thera, and to discover the soul that was
in them ; but in general they passed without notice.
Such articles as Sights from a Steeple, Sketches be
neath an Umbrella, the Wives of the Dead, the Pro
phetic Pictures, now universally acknowledged to be
productions of extraordinary depth, meaning, and
power, extorted hardly a word of either praise or
blame, while columns were given to pieces since to
tally forgotten. I felt annoyed, almost angry indeed,
at this. I wrote several articles in the papers, direct
ing attention to these productions, and finding no
echo of my views, I recollect to have asked John
Pickering* to read some of them, and give me his
opinion of them. He did as I requested ; his an
swer was that they displayed a wonderful beauty of
style, with a kind of double vision, a sort of second
sight, which revealed, beyond the outward forms of
life and being, a sort of spirit world, somewhat as a

* John Pickering, son of Timothy Pickering, Washington's Secre
tary of Stato, was a distinguished jurist and philologist, and a refined
and amiable gentleman. A good notice of him is given in Messrs-
Duyckinck's excellent Cyclopedia of American Literature, vol. i. page
625. To this, by the way, I have often been indebted for assistance in
the preparation of this work.

713 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
lake reflects the earth around it and the sky above
it : yet he deemed thera too raystical to be popular.
He was right, no doubt, at that period, but, ere long,
a portion of mankind, a large portion of the read
ing world, obtained a new sense — how or where or
whence, is not easily determined — which led them
to study the mystical, to dive beneath and beyond
'the senses, and to discern, gather, and cherish gems
and pearls of price in the hidden depths of the soul.
Hawthorne was, in fact, a kind of Wordsworth in
prose — less kindly, less genial toward mankind, but
deeper and more philosophical. His fate was simi
lar : at first he was neglected, at last he had wor
shipers. In 1837, I recoraraended Mr. Hawthorne to pub
lish a volurae, comprising his various pieces, which
had appeared in the Token and elsewhere. He con
sented, but as I had ceased to be a publisher, it was
difficult to find any one who would undertake to
bring out the work. I applied to the agent of the
Stationers' Company,* but he refused, until at last I

* The Stationers' Company, organized in the autumn of 1886, was a
joint-stock company, in which some of the leading lawyers aud literary
men of Boston engaged, with a view of publishing original American
works of a high character, and ill such a way as to render due compen
sation aud encouragement to authors. One of the works which theu
sought a publisher, without success, was Prescott's Ferdinand and Isa
bella — it being at that day supposed to be absurd for Americans to pre
sume to write general histories. This was in fact one of the first works
issued by this concern. In 1838 the country was suffering under a state
of general commercial panic aud paralysis, and this company was pre
cipitated into the gulf of bankruptov. with tho'isauds of others. Though

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 713
relinquished rtiy copyrights on such of the tales as I
had published, to Mr. Hawthorne, and joined a friend
of his in a bond to indemnify them against loss ; and
thus the work was published by the Stationers' Com
pany, under the title of Twice Told Tales, and for
the author's benefit. It was deemed a failure for
more than a year, when a breeze seemed to rise and
fill its sails, and with it the author was carried on to
farae and fortune.
Araong the raost successful of the writers for the
Token was Miss Francis, now Mrs. Child. I have not
seen her for many years, but I have raany pleasant
remembrances of her lively conversation, her saucy
wit, her strong good sense, and her moat agreeable
person and presence. To Rev. F. W. P. Greenwood
— the author of "Niagara" and the "Sea" — articles
which are still admired by all tasteful readers — I was
indebted not only for some of the best contributions,
but for excellent counsel and i^idvice in my literary
affairs. He was a man of fine genius, gentle manners,
and apostolic dignity of life and character.
To Mr. Pierpont, I was indebted for encouragement
and syrapathy in ray whole career, and for some of
the best poeras which appeared in the work I ara no
ticing. I remember once to have met him, and to have
I was a hesitating and reluctant subscriber to the stock, and in fact was
the last to join the association, I still shared largely — I may say fatally
— in its misfortunes. It entailed upon me the loss ofthe little property
1 had accumulated, and embarrassments which have haunted me to the
present day. 12*

714 LETTEES — BIOGKAPHICAL,
asked him to give me a contribution for the Token.
He stopped and said, reflectingly, " I had a dream not
long ago, which I have thought to put into verse. I
will try, and if I ara successful you shall have it." A
few days after he gave me the lines, now in all the
gem books, beginning —
" Was it the cliime of a tiny bell.
That came so sveeet to my dreaming ear —
Like the silvery tones of a fairy's shell,
That he winds on the beach so mellow and clear,
When the winds and the waves lie together asleep,
And the moon and the fairy are watching the deep-
She dispensing her silvery light.
And he his notes, as silvery quite.
While the boatman hstens and ships his oar.
To catch the music that comes from the shore ?
Hark ! the notes on my ear that play.
Are set to words ; as they float, they say,
' Passing away, passing away !' "
Charles Sprague wrote for me but little, yet that
was of diamond worth. Next to Willis, Mrs. Sigour
ney was my most successful and liberal contributor ;
to her I ara indebted for a large part of the success
of my editorial labors in the matter now referred to.
To Miss Sedgwick, also, the Token owes a large
share of its credit with the public. Grenville Mellen
— a true poet, and a most kind, gentle spirit, doomed
early to " pass away" — was a favorite in ray pages,
and to rae a devoted friend. To B. B. Thacher — also
among the good and the departed ; to Mrs. Osgood,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. . 715
gifted and gone ; to John Neale, A. H. Everett, Bish
op Doane, Mr. Longfellow, Caleb Cushing; to the
two Sargents — Epes and John, though masked as
Charles Sherry or the modest letter E. ; to Miss
Gould, Miss Leslie, H. T. Tuckerman, 0. W. Holmes,
OrvHle Dewey, J. T. Fields, T. S. Fay, G. C. Ver
planck — to all these and to many others, I owe the
kind remembrance which belongs to good deeds,
kindly and graciously bestowed.
It is not to be supposed that in a long career, both
as bookseller and editor, I should have escaped alto
gether the annoyances and vexations which naturally
attach to these vocations. The relation of author and
publisher is generally regarded as that of the cat and
the dog, both greedy of the bone, and inherently jeal
ous of each other. The authors have hitherto written
the accounts of the wrangles between these two par
ties, and the publishers have been traditionally gib-
eted as a set of mean, mercenary wretches, coining
the heart's blood of genius for their own selfish prof
its. Great minds, even in modern times, have not
been above this historical prejudice. The poet Camp
bell is said to have been an adrairer of Napoleon be
cause he shot a bookseller.
Nevertheless, speaking from my own experience,
I suspect, if the truth were told, that, even in cases
where the world has been taught to bestow all its
sympathy in behalf of the author, it would appear
that while there were claws on one side there were

716 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
teeth on the other. My belief is, that where there
have been quarrels, there have generally been mutual
provocations. I know of nothing more vexatious,
more wearisome, more calculated to beget impa
tience, than the egotisms, the exactions, the unrea
sonablenesses of authors, in cases I have witnessed.^
* I could give some curious instances of this. A schoolmaster came
to me once with a marvelously clever grammar ; it was sure to overturn
all others. He had figured out his views in a neat hand, like copper
plate. He estimated that there were always a million of children at
school who would need his grammar ; providing for books worn out,
and a supply for new-comers, half a million would be wanted every
year. At one cent a copy for the author — which he insisted was ex
ceedingly moderate — this would produce to him five thousand dollars a
year, but if I would publish the work he would condescend to take half
that sum annually, during the extent of the copyright — twenty-eight
years ! I declined, and he seriously believed rae a heartless block-
liead. He obtained a publisher at last, but the work never reached a
second edition. Every publisher is laden with similar experiences.
I once employed a young man to block out some little books to be
published underthe nominal authorship of Solomon Bell; these I remod
eled, and one or two volumes were issued. Some over-astute critic an
nounced them as veritable Peter Parleys, and they had a sudden sale.
The young man who had assisted me, and who was under thc most sol
emn obligations to keep the matter secret, thought he had an opportu
nity to make his fortune ; so he publicly claimed the authorship, and
accused me of duplicity ! The result was, that the books fell dead from
that hour ; the series was stopped, and his unprinted manuscripts, for
which I had paid him, became utterly worthless. A portion I burnt,
and a portion still remain amidst the rubbish of other days.
In other instances, I was attacked in the papers, editorially and per
sonally, by individuals who were living upon the employment I gave
them. I Wiis in daily iuteroourse with persons of this character,
who, while flattering me to my face, I knew to be hawking at me in
print. These I regarded and treated as trifles at the time ; they are less
than trifles now. One thing may be remarked, that, in general, such
difdoulties come from poor and unsuccessful writers. They have been
taught that publishers and booksellers are vampires, aud naturally feed
upon the vitals of genius ; assuming— honestly, no doubt — that they are
of this latter class, they feel no great scruple in taking vengeance upon
those whom they regard as their natural enemies.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 717
That there may be examples of meanness, stupidity,
and selfishness, in publishers, is indisputable. But
in general, I am satisfied that an author who will do
justice to a publisher, will have justice in return.
In judging of publishers, one thing should be con
sidered, and that is, that two-thirds of the original
works issued by them, are unprofitable. An eminent
London publisher once told rae that he calculated that
out of ten publications, four involved a positive, and
often a heavy, loss ; three barely paid the cost of pa
per, print, and advertising ; and three paid a profit.
Nothing is more common than for a pubhsher to pay
money to an author, every farthing of which is lost.
Self-preservation, therefore, compels the publisher to
look carefully to his operations. One thing is cer
tain — he is generally the very best judge as to the
value of a book, in a marketable point of view : if he
rejects it, it is solely because he thinks it will not
pay, not because he despises genius.
Happily, at the present day, the relations between
these two parties — authors and publishers — are on a
better footing than in forraer tiraes : the late Festival*
My editorial experience also furnished me with some amusing anec
dotes. An editor of a periodical once sent me an article for the Token ,
entitled La Longue-vue ; the pith of the story consisted in a romantio
youth's falling in love with a young lady, two miles off, through a tele
scope ! I ventured to reject it, and the Token for that year was duly
daraued in the columns of tlie offended author.
Aud yet, while noticing these trifles, I am bound to say distinctly,
that, on the whole, I have had generous and encouraging treatment
from the press, and most kindly intercourse with authors.
* The Complimentary Fruit Festival of the New York Book Publish-

718 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
in New York, given by the publishers to the authors,
was a happy testimonial to the prevailing feeling that
both are partners in the fellowship of literature, and
that mutual good offices will best contribute to mutual
prosperity. Indeed, a great change has taken place
in the relative positions of the two classes. Nothing
is now more marketable than good writing — at least
in this country — whatever may be its form — poetry
or prose, fact or fiction, reason or romance. Star
ving, neglected, abused genius, is a myth of bygone
times. If an author is poorly paid, it is because he
writes poorly. I do not think, indeed, that authors
are adequately paid, for authorship does not stand
on a level with other professions as to pecuniary
recompense, but it is certain that a clever, industri
ous, and judicious writer may make his talent the
means of living.*
ers' Association to Authors arid Booksellers, took place at the Crystal
Palace, September 27, 1855, and was one of the most gratifying and
suggestive occasions I ever witnessed. The opening address of the
president, Mr. W. Appleton, the introductory statistical sketch, by Mr.
G. P. Putnam, the genial toasts, the excellent letters of Charles Sumner,
Edward Everett, and K. C. Winthrop ; the admirable speech of W. C.
Bryant, the eloquent addresses of Messrs. Milburn, Allen, Chapin, Os
good, Beecher, together with the witty and instructive poem by J. T.
Fields — all together marked it as an era of prodigious interest in our
literary annals.
* I am here speaking particularly of the state of things in America
at the present day. No man has more cause to know and feel the dis
appointments, the wear and tear of health, the headaches, the heart
aches, which attend authorship as a profession and a means of support,
than myself. No one has more cause to feel and remember the illusiveness
of literary ambition, perhaps I may say of even humble literary success.
In mo: t cases, these are only obtained at the expense of shattered nerves
and broken constitutions, leaving small means of enjoying what haa

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 'J'19

LETTER XLYII.
Th^ First ofthe Parley Books— Its Reception— Various Publications—
Threatening Attack of Illness — Voyage to Europe — Consultation of Phy
sicians at Paris — Si/r Benj. Brodie, qf London — Abercromiie, of Edin
burgh — Return to America — Residence in the Country — Prosecution of
m/y Literary Labors.

My DEAB 0 ***** *
Though I was busily engaged in publishing va
rious works, I found time to make my long meditated
experiment in the writing of books for children. The
first attempt was made in 1827, and bore the title of
the Tales of Peter Parley about America. No per
sons but my wife and one of my sisters were admit
ted to the secret — for in the first place, I hesitated
to believe that I was qualified to appear before the
public as an author, and in the next place, nursery
literature had not then acquired the respect in th-e
eyes of the world it now enjoys. It is since that pe
riod, that persons of acknowledged genius — Scott,
been thus dearly won. Still it is quite true that if a man has talent, and
is wise and moderate, and if he feels aud practises Agur's prayer, he
may live by authorship ; if he aspires to easy independence, let him
rather drudge in almost any other employment. As an amusement to
a man of fortune, who is also a man of genius, authorship is a glorious
pastime ; to men of other and more active and profitable professions, it
Is often an inspiring episode ; but to one who has no resources but his
brains, it is too often the coining of his heart's blood to feed his family.
One thing should never be forgotten by those who are tempted to follow
a literary career, that not one author in a hundred attains success in
life by this profession alone.

730 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Dickens, Lamartine, Mary Howitt, in Europe, ami
Abbott, Todd, Gallaudet, Miss Sedgwick, Mrs. Child,
and others, in Araerica, have stooped to the composi
tion of books for children and youth.
I published my little book, and let it make its way.
It came before the world untrumpeted, and for sorae
months seemed not to attract the slightest attention.
Suddenly I began to see notices of it in the papers,
all over the country, and in a year from the date of
its publication, it had become a favorite. In 1828, I
published the Tales of Peter Parley about Europe ;
in 1829, Parley's Winter Evening Tales; in 1830,
Parley's Juvenile Tales, and Parley's Asia, Africa,
Sun, Moon, and Stars. About this time the public
guessed my secret — it being first discovered and di
vulged by a woman — Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, to whom,
by the way, I am indebted for raany kind offices in
my literary career — yet I could have wished she
had not done me this questionable favor. Though
the authorship of the Parley books has been to me a
source of sorae gratification, you will see, in the se
quel, that it has also subjected rae to endless vexa
tions. I shall not weary you with a detail of ray proceed
ings at this busy and absorbed period of my life. 1
had now obtained a humble position in literature,
and was successful in such unambitious works as 1
attempted. I gave myself up almost wholly for about
four years— that is, from 1828 to 1832— to author-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 721
ship, generally writing fourteen hours a day. A
part of the time I was entirely unable to read, and
could write but little, on account of the weakness
of my eyes. In my larger publications, I employed
persons to block out work for me ; this was read to
me, and then I put it into style, generally writing by
dictation, my wife being my amanuensis. Thus em
barrassed, I still, by dint of incessant toil, produced
five or six volumes a year, mostly small, but some of
larger compass.
In the midst of these labors — that is, in the spring
of 1832^1 was suddenly attacked with symptoms,
which seemed to indicate a disease of the heart, rap
idly advancing to a fatal termination. In the course
of a fortnight I was so reduced as not to be able to
mount a pair of stairs without help, and a short walk
produced palpitations of the heart, which in several
instances almost deprived me of consciousness. There
seemed no hope but in turning my back upon my
business, and seeking a total change of scene and cli
mate. In May I embarked for England, and after a
few weeks reached Paris. I here applied to Baron
Larroque,who, assisted by L'Herminier— both erainent
specialists in diseases of the heart — subjected rae to
various experiraents, but without the slightest advan
tage. At this period I was obliged to be carried up
stairs, and never ventured to walk or ride alone,
being constantly subject to nervous spasms, which
often brought me to the verge of suffocation.

732 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Despairing of relief here, I returned to London,
and was carefully examined by Sir B. C. Brodie.* He
declared that I had no organic disease, that my diffi
culty was nervous irritability, and that whereas the
French physicians had interdicted wine and required
me to live on a light vegetable diet, I must feed well
upon good roast beef, and take two generous glasses ofi
port with my dinner ! Thus encouraged, I passed on
to Edinburgh, where I consulted Abercrombie,f then
at the height of his fame. He confirmed the views
of Dr. Brodie, in the main, and regarding the irregu
larities of my vital organs as merely functional, still
told me that, without shortening my life, they would
probably never be wholly removed. He told me of
an instance in which a patient of his, who, having
been called upon to testify before the committee of
the House of Commons, in the trial of Warren Hast-

* Sir Benjamin C. Brodie was at this time one of the most eminent
Burgeons in London. His reputation has since even been enhanced ; his
various publications — Clinical Lectures in Surgery, Pathological and Sur
gical Observations on Diseases of the Joints, Lectures ou Diseases of
the Urinary Organs, and Surgical Works — all of which have been pub
lished in this country — have given him a world-wide fame. It waa not
a little remarkable to me, to find a raan of his eminence thus positively
and authoritatively reversing the recommendations of French practi
tioners, of hardly inferior fame. Of one thing I am convinced, that for
ns Anglo-Saxons an Anglo-Saxon practitioner is much better than a
Gallic oue. I shall have a few words more to say on this subject.
¦f Dr. John Abercrombie held the highest rank in his profession at
this period. He was still more distinguished as a writer, his Inquiries
concerning the Intellectual Powers being published in 1880, and his
Philosophy of the Moral Feelings in 1SS3. He was a man of refined
personal appearance, aud most gentle manners. He died in 1844,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 723
mgs — from mere embarrassment — had been seized
with palpitation of the heart, which, however, con
tinued till his death, many years after. Even this
somber view of my case was then a relief. Four and
twenty years have passed since that period, and thus
far my experience has verified Dr. Abercrombie's
prediction. These nervous attacks pursue me to
this day, yet I have become farailiar witb them, and
regarding them only as troublesome visitors, I re
ceive them patiently and bow them out as gently as
I can.* After an absence of six months I returned to Bos
ton, and by the advice of ray physician took up ray
residence in the country. I built a house at Jaraaica
Plain, four railes from the city, and here I continued
for more than twenty years. My health was partially
restored, and I resumed ray literary labors, which I
* I make this statement chiefly because I think it may be useful to
persons, who, like myself, have abused their constitutions by sedentary
habits and excessive mental labor, and who consequently are afflicted
with nervous attacks, putting on the semblance of organic diseases of
the heart. Not long since, I met with an old friend, a physician, who
had abandonedhis profession for authorship : with a dejected counte
nance he told me he was sinking under a disease of the heart ! I in
quired his symptomiv, which corresponded with my own. I related to
him my experience. A few days after I met him, and saw in his cheer
ful face that I had cured him. I give this prescription gratis to all my
literary friends : let them beware of overtasking the. brain ; but if they
do make this mistake, let them not lay the consequent irregularities of
the vital organs to the heart. In nine cases ont of ten they belong to
the head — to the nervous system — which centers iu the brain. Get
that right by bodily exercise, by cheerful intercourse with friends, by
a conscience void of offense, by generous living, by early rising aud early
going to bed, and by considering that the body will always take ven
geance upon the mind, if the latter is parmitted to abuse the former.

724 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
continued, steadily, from 1833 to 1850, with a few
episodes of lecturing and legislating, three voyages
to Europe, and an extensive tour to the South. It
would be tedious and unprofitable to you, were I
even to enumerate my various works — produced
from the beginning to the present time. I may sum
up the whole in a single sentence : I am the author
and editor of about one hundred and seventy vol
umes, and of these seven millions have been sold I

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 725

LETTER XLVIII.
RepuMication of Pa/rley'a Tales in London — Mr. Tegg's operations — im»-
tated by other publishers.
Mt deab 0 ***** *
When I was in London, in 1832, I learned that
Mr. Tegg, then' a prominent publisher there, had
coraraenced the republication of Parley's Tales. I
called upon hira, and found that he had one of thera
actually in press. The result of our interview was
a contract,* in which I engaged to prepare several
* As my claim to the authorship ofthe Parley Tales has been disputed
in London, by interested publishers, I may as well copy the contract
made with Mr. Tegg, which is now before me. It is, I believe, univer
sally admitted that the works published by him, were the first that
introduced the name of Peter Parley to the public there, and as the
contract explicitly refers them to me, it seems there should be no fur
ther doubt on the subject.
" Mbmoeandum of Aoeeement, between Thoraas Tegg, publisher, of
London, and S. G. Goodrich, of Boston, United States of America:
** The said S. G. Goodrich having written and compiled several works,
as Peter Parley's Tales of Animals, Peter Parley's Tales of America, of
Europe, of Asia, of Africa, of the Sea, of the Islands in the Pacific Ocean,
ofthe Sun, Moon, and Stars, &c., &o.
" Now said Goodrich is to revise said works, and carefully prepare
them for publication, and said Tegg is to get copyrights for and publish
the same, with cuts, maps, &c,, as raay be required, and said Tegg is to
supply the market, and push the sales, and take all due measures to
promote the success of said works.
" And in consideration of the premises, said Tegg agrees to pay said
Goodrich, ten pounds sterling on every thousand copies printed of Par
ley's Tales of Animals, after the first edition (which consists of four
thousand copies, and is nearly printed); and for each of the other works
he agrees to pay said Goodrich five pounds on the delivery of the revised
copy for the same, and five pounds for every thousand copies printed

726 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
of these works, which he agreed to publish, giving
me a small consideration therefor. Four of these
works I prepared on the spot, and after my return to
America, prepared and forwarded ten others. Some
tirae after, I learned that the books, or at least a por
tion of them, had been published in London, and were
very successful. I wrote to Mr. Tegg several letters
on the subject, but could get no reply.
Ten years passed away, and being in pressing need
of all that I might fairly claim as my due, I went to
London, and asked Mr. Tegg to render me an ac
count of his proceedings, under the contract. I had
previously learned, on inquiry, that he had indeed
published four or five of the works as we had
agreed, but taking advantage of these, which passed
readily into extensive circulation, he proceeded to set
aside the contract, and to get up a series of publica
tions upon the model of those I had prepared for
him, giving them, in the title-pages, the narae of Par
ley, and passing thera off upon the public, by every
artifice in his power, as the genuine works of that
after the first edition, and also a premium or bonus of five pounds on
each work (in addition to the above stipulations), when four thousand
copies are sold or disposed of, of the same.
" And when said Goodrich is out of the country, said Tegg is to fur
nish certificates of sales, &c., as may be required by said Goodrich or
his agent. Said Tegg, it is understood, is not bound to publish any of
these works which he deems unsuited to the country; but said Good
rich is at liberty to dispose of, to any other publisher, any work which
said Tegg, on application, declines publishing. "Thomas Tsea,
"S. G. GOODBIOH."
" London, June 80, 1832."

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 727
author. He had thus published over a dozen vol
umes, which he was circulating as "Peter Pariey's
Library." The speculation, as I was told, had sue
ceeded admirably, and I was assured that many thou
sand pounds of profit had been realized thereby.
To my request for an account of his stewardship,
Mr. Tegg replied, in general terms, that I was misin
formed as to the success of the works in question ;
that, in fact, they had been a very indifferent specu
lation; that he found the original works were not
adapted to his purpose, and he had consequently got
up others ; that he had created, by advertising and
other means, an interest in these works, and had thus
greatly benefited the name and fame of Parley, and,
all things considered, he thought he had done more
for me than I had for him; therefore, in his view,
if we considered the account balanced, we should not
be very far from a fair adjustment.
To this cool answer I made a suitable reply, but
without obtaining the slightest satisfaction. The
contract I had made was a hasty meraorandura, and
judicially, perhaps, of no binding effect on him. And
besides, I had no money to expend in litigation. A
little reflection satisfied rae that I was totally at
Tegg's mercy — a fact of which his calm and collected
manner assured me he was even more conscious than
myself. The discussion was not prolonged. At the
second interview he cut the whole matter short, by
saying—" Sir, I do not owe you a farthing ; neither

728 ¦ LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
justice nor law require me to pay you any thing.
Still, I am an old man, and have seen a good deal of
life, and have learned to consider the feelings of
others as well as my own. I will pay you four hun
dred pounds, and we will be quits ! If we can not do
this, we can do nothing." In view of the whole case,
this was as much as I expected, and so I accepted the
proposition. I earnestly remonstrated with Mr. Tegg
against the enormity of making me responsible for
works I never wrote, but as to all actual claims on
the ground of the contract, I gave him a receipt in
full, and we parted.
Sorae years after this Mr. Tegg died, but his estab
lishraent passed into the hands of one of his sons,
with another person, by whom it is still continued ;
the false "Parley's Library" having been recently
enlarged by the addition of other counterfeits. An
example so tempting and so successful as that I have
described, was sure to be followed by others, and ere
long raany of the first publishers of juvenile works in
London, had eraployed persons to write books under
the narae of Peter Parley — every thing being done in
the title-pages, prefaces, advertisements, &c., to make
the public receive them as genuine works.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 729

LETTER XLIX.
The Peter Farley Boolcs.
My dear q ***** *
It is not to be supposed that the annoyances
arising from the falsification of the name of Parley,
which I have just pointed out, have been the only
obstacles which have roughened the current of my
literary life. Not only the faults and imperfections of
execution in my juvenile works — and no one knows
them so well as myself — have been urged against
them, but the whole theory on which they are found
ed has been often and elaborately impugned.
It is quite true that when I wrote the first half-
dozen of Parley's Tales, I had formed no philosophy
upon the subject. I simply used my experience with
children in addressing them. I followed no models,
I put on no harness of the schools, I pored over no
learned examples. I imagined myself on the floor
with a group of boys and girls, and I wrote to them as
1 would have spoken to them. At a later period I had
reflected on the subject, and embodied in a few simple
lines the leading principle of what seemed to me the
true art of teaching children — and that is, to considel
that their first ideas are simple and single, and formed
of images of things palpable to the senses ; and hence

730 ' LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
that these images are to form the staple of lessons to
be communicated to them. *

LETTER L.
Journey lo the South — Anecdotes — Reception ai New Orhans.
Mt deae C******
If thus I met with opposition, I had also my
success, nay, I must say, my triumphs. My first pa
trons were the children themselves, then the mothers,
and then, of course, the fathers. In the early part of
the year 1846, 1 made a trip from Boston to the South,
returning by the way of the Mississippi and the Ohio.
I received many a kind welcome under the name of
the fictitious hero whom I had made to tell my stories.
Sometimes, it is true, I underwent rather sharp cross-
questioning, and frequently was made to feel that I
held my honors by a rather questionable title. I, who
had undertaken to teach truth, was forced to confess
that fiction lay at the foundation of my scheme ! My
innocent young readers, however, did not suspect me :
they had taken all I had said as positively true, and
I was of course Peter Parley himself.
" Did you really write that book about Africa ? "
* Note bt the Publisher.— The reraainder of this chapter is entirely
devoted to the explanation of Mr. Goodrich's plan of writing' books for chil
dren. At the time of the flrst publication of these BecoUectione the series of
Ms Peter Parley's Tales were at the zenith of their popularity. However
juBtiflable and proper it may have been at thiit time for the author to avail
himself of the opportunity of defense against the attacks made asainst his
theory of writing, and of exposing the numerous imitators who endeavored
to sail upon the wings of his popularity, yet, now that a generation has paseed
away, and that Mr. Goodrich's writings for children, once so popular, liave
already almost passed into oblivion, these matters, to the present readers of
these Eecollectlons, are of comparatively little interest. They have, therefore,
been excluded.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 731
said a black-eyed, dark-haired girl of some eight years
old,-at Mobile.
I replied in the affirmative.
" And did you really get into prison, there ?"
" No ; I was never in Africa."
"Never in Africa?"
" Never."
" Well, then, why did you say you had been there ?"
On another occasion, I think at Savannah, a gen
tleman called upon me, introducing his two grand
children, who were anxious to see Peter Parley. The
girl rushed up to me, and gave me a ringing kiss at
once. We were iraraediately the best friends in the
world. The boy, on the contrary, held himself aloof,
and ran his eye over me, up and down, frqm top to
toe. He then walked around, surveying rae with the
most scrutinizing gaze. After this, he sat down, and
during the interview, took no further notice of me.
At parting, he gave me a keen look, but said not a
word. The next day the gentleman called and told
me that his grandson, as they were on their way
home, said to hira —
" Grandfather, I wouldn't have any. thing to do
with that man : he ain't Peter Parley."
" How do you know that ?" said the grandfather.
" Because," said the boy, " he hasn't got his foot
bound up, and he don't walk with a crutch !"*
* The little book entitled " Parley's Method of TeUing about Geogror
phy to Children," had a picture, drawn by Tisdale, representing Parley

732 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
On my arrival at New Orleans I was kindly re
ceived, and had the honors of a public welcome. You
will readily perceive the egotism implied in placing
before you such a record as this ; but if I chronicle
my failures and my trials, must I not, as a faithful
scribe, tell you also of my success ?
sitting in a chair, with his lame foot bound np, and a crutch at his side,
while he is saying to the boys around—" Take care, don't touch my
gouty toe ; if you do, I won't tell you any more stories I " Of this work
two millions were sold, aud of course Parley and his crutch were pretty
generaUy associated together, iu the minds of children.

733

LETTER LI.
Betrospection — Confessions — T%a mice among my papers — A reckoning
with the past.
MXDEAE 0******
In the three preceding letters I have spoken
chiefly of the books I have written for children, and
the true design of which was as much to amuse as
to instruct them. These comprise the entire series
called Parley's Tales, with many others, bearing Par
ley's name. As to works for education — school-
books, including readers, histories, geographies, &c.,
books for popular reading, and a wilderness of prose
and poetry, admitting of no classification — ^I have
only to refer you to the catalogue already men
tioned. Let me cheer you with the statement that
this is the closing chapter of my literary history. I
have little indeed to say, and that is a confession.
In looking at the long list of my publications, in
reflecting upon the large numbers that have been
sold, I feel far more of humiliation than of triumph.
If I have sometimes taken to heart the soothing flat
teries of the public, it has ever been speedily succeed
ed by the conviction that my life has been, ort the
whole, a series of mistakes, and especially in that por
tion of it which has been devoted to authorship. I
have written too much, and have done nothing really

734 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
well. You need not whisper it to the public, at least
until I ara gone ; but I know, better than any one
can tell me, that there is nothing in' this long cata
logue that will give rae a perraanent place in liter
ature. A few things raay struggle upon the surface
for a time, but — ^like the last leaves of a tree in au
tumn, forced at last to quit their hold, and cast into
the stream — even these will disappear, and my name
and all I have done will be forgotten.
* A recent event, half ludicrous and half melan
choly, has led rae into this train of reflection. On
going to Europe in 1851, 1 sent my books and papers
to a friend, to be kept till my return. Araong them
was a large box of business documents — letters, ac
counts, receipts, bills paid, notes liquidated — corapri-
sing the transactions of several years, long since passed
away. Shortly after my return to New York — some
three months ago — in preparing to establish myself
and family here, I caused these things to be sent to
me. On opening the particular box just mentioned,
I found it a complete mass of shavings, shreds, frag
ments. My friend had put it carefully away in the
upper loft of his barn, and there it became converted
into a universal mouse-nest ! The history of whole
generations of the mischievous little rogues was still
visible ; beds, galleries, play-grounds, birth-places,
and even graves, were in a state of excellent preser
vation. Several wasted and shriveled forms of va
rious sizes — the limbs curled up, the eyes extinct, the

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 735
teeth disclosed, the long, slender tails straight and
stiffened — testified to the joys and sorrows of the
races that had flourished here.
'On exploring this mass of ruins, I discovered here
and there a file of letters eaten through, the hollow
cavity evidently having been the happy and innocent
cradle of childhood, to these destroyers. Sometimes
I found a bed lined with paid bills, and sometiraes
the pathway of a gallery paved with liquidated ac
counts. What a raass of thoughts, of feelings, cafes,
anxieties, were thus made the plunder of these
thoughtless creatures! In examining the papers, I
found, for instance, letters from N. "P. Willis, written
five and twenty years ago, with only " Dear Sir" at
the beginning and "Yours truly" at the end. I
found epistles of nearly equal antiquity signed N.
Hawthorne, Catharine M. Sedgwick, Maria L. Child,
Lydia H. Sigourney, Willis Gaylord Clark, Grenville
Mellen, William L. Stone, J. G. C. Brainard — some
tiraes only the heart eaten out, and sometimes the
whole body gone.
For all purposes of record, these papers were de
stroyed. I was alone, for my family had not yet
returned from Europe ; it was the beginning of No
vember, and I began to light ray fire with these relics.
For two whole days I pored over them, buried in
the reflections which the reading of the fragments
suggested. Absorbed in this dreary occupation, 1
forgot the world without, and was only conscious oi

736 LETTEES —BIOGEAPHICAL,
bygone scenes which came up in review before me.
It was as if I had been in the tomb, and was reckon
ing with the past. How little was there in all that I
was thus called to remeraber — save of care, and strug
gle, and anxiety; and how were all the thoughts,
and feelings, and experiences, which seeraed moun
tains in their day, leveled down to the merest grains
of dust ! A note of hand — perchance of a thousand
dollars — what a history rose up in recollection as T
looked over its scarcely legible fragraents : what
clouds of anxiety had its approaching day of maturity
cast over my mind! How had I been with a trem
bling heart to some bank-president* — he a god, and
I a craven worshiper — making my offering of sorae
other note for a discount, which raight deliver rae
frora the wrath to come ! With what anxiety have
I watched the lips of the oracle — for my fate was in
his hands ! A simple monosyllable — yes or no — ¦
might save or ruin me. What a history was in that
bit of paper — and yet it was destined only to serve
as stuf&ng for the beds of vermin 1 Such are the ag
onies, the hopes, and fears of the human heart, put
into the crucible of time !

* Let no one say that I speak irreverently of bank-presidents. One
of my best friends during many years of trial was Franklin Haven, pres
ident of the Merchants' Bank at Boston — who found it in his heart,
while administering his ofBce with signal ability and success, to collect
a library, cultivate letters, learn languages, and cherish a respect for
literary men. It must be one among other sources of gratification,
arising from his liberal tastes, that he long enjoyed the confidence and
ftiendship of Daniel Webster.

737
I ought, no doubt, to have smiled at all this — but
I confess it made me serious. Nor was it the most
humiliating part of ray reflections. I have been too
farailiar with care, conflict, disappointment, to mourn
over them very deeply, now that they were passed ;
the seeming fatuity of such a mass of labors as these
papers indicated, compared with their poor results —
however it might humble, it could not distress me.
But there were raany things suggested by these let
ters, all in rags as they were, that caused positive
humiliation. They revived in my mind the vex
ations, misunderstandings, controversies of other
days; and now, reviewed in the calm light of time, I
could discover the mistakes of judgraent, of temper,
of policy, that I had made. I turned back to my
letter-book; I reviewed my correspondence — and I
carae to the conclusion that in alraost every difficulty
which had arisen in my path, even if others were
wrong, I was not altogether right: in raost cases,
prudence, conciliation, condescension, might have
averted these evils. Thus the thorns which had
wounded me and others too, as it seemed, had gener
ally sprung up frora the seeds I had sown, or had
thriven upon the culture my own hands had un
wisely, perhaps unwittingly bestowed.
At first I felt disturbed at the ruin which had been
wrought in these files of papers. Hesitating and
doubtful, I consigned them one by one to the flames.
A.t last the work was complete ; all had perished, and

738 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
the feathery ashes had leaped up in the strong draft
of the chimney and disappeared forever. I felt a
relief at last; I smiled at what had happened; I
warmed my chill fingers over the embers ; I felt that
a load was off my shoulders. " At least" — said I in
my heart — "these things are now past; my reckon
ing is completed, the account is balanced, the respon
sibilities of those bygone days are liquidated. Let me
burden my bosom with them no more I" Alas, how
fallacious my calculation ! A few months only had
passed, when I was called to contend with a formi
dable claim which came up from the midst of trans
actions, to which these extinct papers referred, and
against which they constituted my defence. As it
chanced, I was able to raeet and repel it by docu-
raents which survived, but the event caused rae deep
reflection. I could not but remark that, however we
may seek to cover our hves with forgetfulness, their
records still exist, and these raay come up against us
when we have no vouchers to meet the charges which
are thus presented. Who then will be our helper?
" I will think of that— I will think of that I"

739

LETTER LII.
Speech at St. Albans — Lecture upon Ireland and the Irish — Tlie Broad
street Riot — Burning the Charlestown Convent — My Political Career —
A. H. Everett — The Fifteen Gallon Jug — The Harrison Campaign of
1840 — Hard Older and Log Cabins — Universal Bankruptcy — Election
of Ha/rrison — His Death — Consequences — Anecdotes — The Small Tail
Movement — A Model Candidate — WilUam Cpp, or Shingling a Barn.
Mt deak 0 ***** *
The first public speech I ever made was at St.
Albans, England, in June, 1832, at a grand celebra
tion of the passage of the Eeform Bill,* having ac
companied thither Sir Francis Vincent, the represen-

* The Eeform Bill was a popular measure, which swept away the
rotten boroughs, and greatly extended the suffrage. After a long
aud violent struggle, it passed the House of !Lords on the 4th of June,
1832, and received the royal sanction on the 7th. That day I arrived
in Liverpool, amid a general feeling of joy aud exhilaration. The Duke
of Wellington had protested against the bill, though the king, William
IV., and the ministry had favored it ; in consequence, he was insulted
by a mob, while passing on horseback through one of the streets ot
London, June 18th, the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo. A few
days after this, there was a military review in Hyde Park, aud King
William being present, a large concourse of people assembled ; am'ong
them was the Duke of Wellington. After the review was over, he was
encircled by an immense mass of persons, indignant at the insult he
had received, and desirous of testifying their respect and affection.
Most of them condeiined his opposition to the reform bill, but this could
not extinguish or diminish their sense of his great merit. I was pres
ent, and moved ou at the side of the old veteran, mounted on horse
back and dressed as a citizen— his hat off, and testifying by his looks,
his sensibility to these spontaneous marks of regard. He was con
ducted to the gate of the park, near his residence— Apsley House, and
there he bade adieu to his shouting escort.
On this occasion, aa well as on others, I saw King William IV., a large,

740 LEITEES  ^BIOGEAPmCAL,
tative in Parliament of that ancient borough. More
than three thousand people, men, women, and chil
dren, gathered from the town and the vicinity, were
feasted at a long table, set out in the principal street
of the place. After this feast there were various
sports, such as donkey races, climbing a greased pole,
and the like. At six o'clock, about one hundred and
fifty of the gentry and leading tradesmen and me
chanics, sat down to a dinner. Sir Francis presiding.
The President of the United States was toasted, and
I was called upon to respond. Entirely taken by sur
prise, for not a word had been said to me upon the
subject, I made a speech. I could never recall what
I said : all I reraember is a whirl of thoughts and
emotions as I rose, occasional cries of " hear ! hear !"
as I went on, and a generous clapping of hands as
red-faced man, with an amiable, though not very intellectual expression
He was, however, very popular, and in contrast to George IV., who was
exceedingly disliked during the latter part of his reign, he was a favor
ite with the people, who gave him the title ofthe "patriot king."
As I shall have no other opportunity, I may as well complete my gal
lery of British sovereigns, by a brief notice of Queen Victoria, whom I
have often seen. Of her character I have already spoken; as to her
personal appearance, all the world have a general idea of it, from the
portraits in the shop- windows ; but truth compels me to declare that
all the personal beauty in these representations, is ideal. Her majesty
is really a very ordinary and rather coarse-looking woman — especially
to one whose standard is founded upon the delioilte and graceful type
of American female beauty. When I say she is as good as she is home
ly, and is loved and cherished by her people aooording to her merits, I
give strong testimony to her virtues. Prince Albert is a very handsome
man, and it must be said that the large family of princes and princesses
not only resemble him, strikingly, but share in his personal good looks.
I have seen few more gratifying sights in England than this royal family
— deserving and receiving the affection of the people.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 741
I wound off. Whether this last was because I really
made a good hit, or from another principle —
" The best of Graham's speeches was hia last" —
I am totally unable to say.
My next public appearance was in a lecture at the
Tremont Temple, in Boston — my subject being Ireland
aud the Irish. Although my discourse was written,
and pretty well committed to memory, yet for several
days before the time appointed for its delivery ar-
rived-'-when I thought of my engagement, my heart
rolled over with a heavy and sinking sensation.
When the hour came, I went to the door of the room,
but on seeing the throng of persons collected, I felt
that my senses were deserting rae : turning on ray
heel, I went out, and going to Sraith, the apothecary
— fortified myself with sorae pepperraint lozenges.
When I got back, the house was waiting with irapa-
tience. I was immediately introduced to the audi
ence by Dr. Walter Channing, and stepping upon the
platform, began. After the first sentence, I was per
fectly at my ease. I need only add that I repeated
the same lecture more than forty times.*
* About this time there was a strong popular excitement in Boston
and the vicinity against the Irish, and especially the Eoman Catholic
religion. It manifested itself in what was called the " Broad-street
Eiot" — June 11, 1889 — in which the Irish, who gathered in that quar
ter, were attacked, their hoiises rified, their beds ripped open, and tho
furniture destroyed to the amount of twa thousand dollars ; and also
in burning down the Catholic Female Seminary — a species of Convent,
where it was said there were evil doings — in the adjacent town ot
Charlestown. My purpose was to allay this excitement by presenting

743 LETTEES — ^BIOGEAPHIOAL,
In the autumn of 1836 there was a large evening
party at Jaraaica Plain, at the house of Mrs. G  ,
the lady patroness of the village. Araong the nota
bles present was Daniel Webster, whora I had fre
quently seen, but to whom I was now introduced for
the first time. He spoke to me of raany things, and
at last of politics, suggesting that the irapending pres
idential election involved raost important questions,
and he deemed it the duty of every raan to reflect
upon the subject, and to exert his influence as his
conscience might dictate.
Since ray residence in Massachusetts, a period of
nearly eight years, I had been engrossed in my busi
ness, and had never even cast a vote. Just at this
time I was appointed, without any suggestion of ray
own, one of the delegates to the whig convention to
norainate a person to represent us — the Ninth Con
gressional District— in Congress. This was to take
place at Medway, at the upper end of the district. I
went accordingly, and on the first ballot, was the
highest candidate, save one — Mr. Hastings, of Men-
don. I declined of course, and he was unanimously
nominated. The canvass that ensued was a very animated one.

the history of the Irish people, with the adversities they had suffered,
auc3 the many amiable and agreeable traits that had survived, amid all
the causes which had operated to degrade them. I believe that my ef
forts were not wholly fruitless : the lecture was encouraged, and when
printed, received a commendatory notice even from the North Ameri-
<au Eeview— written by T. C. Grattan, himself an Irishman.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, E'rC. 743
Mr. Yan Buren being the democratic candidate for
the presidency. He was considered as the heir-
apparent of the policy of Gen. Jackson, and had in
deed promised, if elected, to walk in the footsteps of
his illustrious predecessor. Without the personal
popularity of that remarkable man, he became the
target for all the hostility which his measures had
excited. He was, however, elected, but to be over
whelmed with a whirlwind of discontent and oppo
sition four years after.
The candidate for Congress in our district in oppo
sition to Mr. Hastings, was Alexander H. Everett,
who had been hitherto a conspicuous whig, and who
had signalized himself by the ability and the bitter
ness of his attacks on Gen. Jackson and his admin
istration. He had singled out Mr. Yan Buren for
especial vehemence of reproach, because, being Secre
tary of State at the time, Mr. Everett was superseded
as Minister to Spain without the customary courtesy
of an official note advising hira of the appointraent of
his successor. To the araazement of the public in gen
eral and his friends in particular, on the Sth January,
1886, Mr. Everett delivered an oration before the de
mocracy of Salem, in which — ignoring the most prom
inent portion of his political life — he came out with
the warmest eulogies upon Gen. Jackson and his ad
ministration 1 About the first of May, the precise
period when it was necessary, in order to render him
eligible to Congress in the Ninth District, he took up

744 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
his residence within its precincts, and, as was easily
foreseen, was the democratic candidate for. Coilgress.
The whig district committee, of which I was one,
and Charles Bowen, Mr. Everett's publisher, anoth
er — issued a pamphlet, collating aud contrasting
Mr. Everett's two opinions of General Jackson's
policy, and especially of Mr. Yan Buren — the one
flatly contradicting the other, and, in point of date,
being but two or three years apart. This was cir
culated over the towns of the district. It was a ter
rible document, and Mr. Everett felt its force. One
of them was left at his own door in the general dis
tribution. This he took as a personal insult, and
meeting Bowen, knocked him over the head with his
umbrella. Bowen clutched hira by the throat, and
would have strangled him but for the timely interfe
rence of a bystander.
I had been among Mr. Everett's personal friends,
but he now raade me the object of special attack.
A paper, then conducted by B. F. H . . . ., circu
lated a good deal in the district, and here, under the
name of Peter Parley, I was severely lashed, not
because I was a candidate for office, but because I
was chairman of the whig district coramittee. I rec
ollect that one day some rather scandalous thing came
out against me in the editorial columns of this journal,
and feeling very indignant, I went to see the editor.
I did not know hira personally, but frora occasionally
reading his paper, I had got the idea that he was a

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 745
very monster of violence and vandalism. He was
not at the office, but such was my irritation and im
patience that I went to his house. I rang, and a
beautiful black-eyed girl, some eight years old, came
to the door. I asked if Mr. H. was in ? " Mother,"
said the child, in a voice of silver, " is father at
home ?" At this moraent another child, and still
younger — its bullet-pate all over curls — came to the
door. Then a mild and handsome woman came, and
to my inquiry she said that her husband was out,
but would return in a few moraents.
My rage was quelled in an instant. " So," said I
to myself, " these children call that man father, and
this woman calls him husband. After all, he can not
be such a monster as I have conceived him — with
such a home." I turned on my heel and went away,
my ill-humor having totally subsided. Some two
years after, I told this anecdote to Mr. H., and we
had a good-humored laugh over it. Both of us had
learned to discriminate between political controversy
arid personal animosity.
The attacks made upon rae during this canvass had
an effect different frora what was intended. I was
corapelled to take an active part in the election, and
deeming the success of my party essential to my own
defense, I naturally made more vigorous efforts for that
object. Mr. Everett was largely defeated, and the whig
candidate as largely triumphed. At the sarae tirae I
was chosen a member of the legislature for Eoxbury
15*

746 LB'TTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
1 — Jamaica Plain, where I resided, being a parish ot
that town. The next year I was a candidate for the
senate, in competition with Mr. Everett,* and was
elected. In this manner I was forced into politics, and
was indebted mainly to opposition for my success.
During the ensuing session of the legislature, the
winter of 1837-8, the famous " Fifteen Gallon Law"
was passed — that is, a law prohibiting the sale of in
toxicating liquors in less quantities than fifteen gal
lons. The county I represented was largely in favor
of the measure, and I voted for it, though I was by
no rneans insensible to the agitation it was certain to
produce. I had determined not to be a candidate for
* Alexander H. Everett was a native of Massachusetts, and a younger
brother of Edward Everett, born in 1790. He studied law in the ofBce
of John Quincy Adams at Boston, and in 1809 he accompanied him as
attach^ in his mission to Eussia. Mr. Everett's political career clearly
displays the influence of this early connection with Mr. Adams. Hav
ing remained at St. Petersburg two years, he returned to the United
States by way of England, where he spent some months. He now took
part with the democrats, ahd wrote against the Hartford Convention and
in favor of the war. Soon after the peace he was appointed secretary
of legation to Governor Eustis, in his mission to the Netherlands.
Here he continued several years, the latter part of the time as chargf.
On visiting Brussels in 1 824, I called upon him, and was agreeably im
pressed by his flue person and dignified, though cold and distant, man
ners. In 1825, hc was appointed by his former patron, then President
of the United States, Minister to Spain, where he remained till he was
dismissed by Gen. Jackson. Mr. Everett, having failed of success ic
his attempts to obtain ofiice from the people of Massachusetts, was em
ployed by the general government, first as Commissioner to Cuba, and
afterward to China. He died a few months subsequent to his arrival at
Canton — that is, in June, 1847. In literature, he held a respectable posi
tion, having written several works of learning and ability, and some
essays of great elegance. In polities, unfortunately, he followed the ex
ample of Mr. Adams, in a sudden and startling change of his party, under
circumstancos which injured his character aud impaired his usefulness.

HISTOSiOAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 747
fe-electjon, and therefor^ considered myself free to
engage in the discussion which preceded the next
election, and which, of course, mainly turned upon
this law. Among other things, I wrote a little pam
phlet, entitled "Five Letters to my Neighbor Smith,
touching the Fifteen Gallon Jug" — ^the main design of
which was to persuade the people of Massachusetts
to make the experiment, and see whether such a re
straint upon the sale of intoxicating drinks would
not be -beneficial. This was published anonymously,
and my intention was to have the authorship remain
unknown. It, however, had an enormous sale — a
hundred thousand copies- — in the course of a few
months, and curiosity soon guessed me out.
Now in the village of Jamaica Plain, I had a neigh
bor, though not by the name of Sraith — a rich liquor
dealer, who did his business in Boston — a very re
spectable man, but a vehement opposer of the Fifteen
Gallon Law. As the election approached, the citi
zens of the State were drawn out in two. caraps, the
men of Israel — those in favor of prohibition — on one
side, and the Philistines — the men in favor of free
liquor — on the other. My neighbor was rather the
Goliath of his party — six cubits and a span, and all
helraeted in brass — by which I mean that he was the
wealthiest, the most respectable, and the most valiant
of all the soldiers of the Philistine carap ! He insist
ed that by " My Neighbor Smith," I raeant hira, and
though I had said nothing disagreeable of that per-

748 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
sonage, but, on the contrary, had drawn his portrait
in very amiable colors, he held that it was a mali
cious personal attack. In vain did I deny the charge,
and point to the fact that the residence, character,
qualities of my fictitious hero, were inapplicable to
him. Anxious, like Mawworm, to be persecuted,
he insisted upon it that he was persecuted.
At the county convention, which took place some
two months prior to this election, I declined being a
candidate. The raerabers present, however, clearly
discerning the gathering storra, refused to release me,
and I was forced to accept the nomination. The
election was to take place on Monday, in November.
On the Saturday previous, there was issued in Boston
a pamphlet, entitled the " Cracked Jug," a personal
and political attack upon me, written with great mal
ice and some ability. It was scattered like snow-
flakes all over the county, and was, I suspect, the
Sunday reading of all the tipplers and taverners ot
the county. The bar-room critics esteeraed it supe
rior to any thing which had appeared since the letters
of Junius, and of course considered me as annihilated.
On Monday, election-day, my family were insulted
in the streets of Jamaica Plain, and as I went into
the town-hall to cast ray vote, I heard abundance of
gibes cast at me from beneath lowering beavers. The
result was that there was no choice of senators in
the county. The election, when the people had thus
failed to fill their places, fell upon the legislature, and

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 749
I tras chosen. The storm gradually passed away.
The fifteen gallon law was repealed, but it nearly
overturned the whig party in the State, which, being
in the majority, was raade responsible for it.* I
deemed it necessary to reply to ray Neighbor Smith's
Cracked Jug, and he rejoined. What seemed at the
time a deadly personal struggle, was ere long forgot
ten — neither party, I believe, carrying, in his charac
ter or his feelings, any of the scars inflicted during
the battle. Both had in some sort triumphed — both
* In this election, Edward Everett, who had been governor of the
State .since 1835, and had administered the government with great suc
cess, was defeated by a single vote, Marcus Morton, a judge of the Su
preme Court, and who had been the standing democratic candidate for
many years without any seeming prospect of success, being chosen in
his place. It is an interesting fact that such is the respect for the bal
lot, that among a hundred thousand votes, a majority of one was sub
mitted to without question or opposition. A good anecdote is connect
ed with this incident. Governor Morton with his party had opposed the
encouragement of railroads by the use of the State credit. Nevertheless,
while he was governor, the branch railroad, running through his own
town, Taunton, to the thriving and enterprising town of New Bed
ford, was completed. This event was to be celebrated by a jubilee at the
latter place, and the governor was invited to be present. The ceremonies
were to commence at twelve o'clock, but at that hour his excellency •
had not arrived. The whole proceedings were delayed and embar
rassed, until just as the clock was striking one, the governor ap
peared. J. H. Clififord, the witty and eloquent State's attorney, so
universally known for his admirable management of the trial of Dr.
Webster, the murderer of Parkman, and afterward himself governor of
the State, immediately rose and offered the following sentiment—
Governor Morton, who always gets in by one !
It is needless to say that the sentiment, as well as the governor, was
hailed with acclamation ; and it may be stated incidentally, that, inas
much as a railroad had passed through the governor's own town, he,
and I may add his party, thenceforward were advocates of railroads.
The next year (1840), in the whirlwind of the Harrison campaign, Gov
ernor Morton gave place to " honest John Davis," a name known and
honored throughout the whole United States.

750 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL, :
in some sort been beaten— both could, therefore, afford
to return to the amicable relations of village neigh
borhood. The presidential canvass of 1840 presented the
most remarkable political spectacle which has ever
been witnessed in the United States. Gen. Jackson's
measures in regard to the currency and the tariff re
sulted in a tempest, which was precipitated upon the
administration of his successor — Mr. Yan Buren.
Bankruptcy* and ruin had swept over the country, in
volving alike the rich and the poor, in their avalanche
of miseries. In the autumn of this year, the whigs nom
inated William Henry Harrison, as the candidate for
the presidency, in opposition to Mr. Yan Buren. He

* The bankruptcies that took place in Boston from November 1, 1836,
to May 12, 1837, were one hundred and sixty-eight — some of very large
amount. About the same time, the crash in New York was terrific,
bearing down many of the oldest and wealthiest houses in the city. In
New Orleans, in May, 1887, the failures in two days, amounted to twen
ty-seven millions of dollars. A committee of New York, addressing
the President, stated that the depreciation of real estate in that city was
forty millions of dollars in six months ! They also stated that two hun
dred and fifty failures took place in the space of two months ; that the
depreciation of local stocks was twenty raillions, and the fall of mer
chandise thirty per cent, within tho same period. Twenty thousand
persons, dependent upon their labor, were said to be thrown out of em-
ployihent, at the same time. Thc committee added, "the error of our
rulers has produced a wider desolation than the pestilence which de
populated our streets, or the conflagration wliich laid them in ashes"
Similar ruin visited every part of the Union — the people, corporations.
States, being reduced to bankruptcy. It was estimated that half a mil
lion of persons were made bankrupt by reason of the various meas
ures of the Jackson and Van Buren administrations. Hundreds and
thousands of persons, destitute of employmetft, and almout destitute
of bread, found relief in swelling the Harrison. processions and gather
ings, in singing patriotic songs, and shouting for reform.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 751
had held various civil and military trusts, in which
he had displayed courage, wisdom, and. patriotism.
His personal character was eminently winning to the
people, being marked with benevolence and simpli
city. He had long retired from public life, and for
several years had lived as a farmer on the " North
Bend" of the Ohio, near Cincinnati. The democrats
ridiculed him as drinking hard cider and living in a
log cabin. The masses, resenting this as coming from
those who — having the government spoils — were riot
ing in the White House on champagne, took these
gibes, and displayed them as their nfottoes and sym
bols upon their banners. They gathered in barns, as
was meet for the friends of the farmer of North Bend^
using songs and speeches as flails, threshing his ene
mies with a will. The spirit spread over mountain and
valley, and in every part of tbe country, men were
seen leaving their customary employraents to assera-
ble in multitudinous conventions. Many of these
gatherings numbered twenty thousand persons.
During this animated canvass, I was not a candi
date for office, yet I took part in the great movement,
and made about a hundred speeches in Massachusetts
and Connecticut. Everybody, then, could make a
speech,* and everybody could sing a song. Orators
* A speechmaker, in the western part of the State of Virginia
luring the canvass, has given us the following anecdote. He was hold-
ng forth upon the merits of Gen. Harrison, and especially upon his
courage, tact, and success as a military commander. While in the midst
of his discourse, a tall-, gaunt mau — who was probably a schoolmaster in

753 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
sprang tip like mushrooms, and the gift of tongues
was not more universal than the gift of music.
Towns, cities, and villages, were enlivened with
torch-light processions and with long, bannered phal
anxes, shouting for the hero of Tippecanoe! The
result of the election was such as might have been
anticipated — a most emphatic rebuke by the people
of that policy which had spread disaster, and ruin
over the country — by the election of Harrison, giving
him two hundred and thirty-four votes, leaving only
sixty for Yan Buren 1 The death of Harrison, how
ever, which took place thirty days after he had en-
those parts — arose from the crowd, and said, in a voice which penetrated
the whole assembly —
"Mister — Mister 1 I want to ax yon a question." To this the orator
assented, and the man went on as follows :
" We are told, fellow-citizens, that Gineral Harrison is a mighty great
gineral ; but I say he's one of the very meanest sort of ginerals. Wo
are told here to-night, that he defended himself bravely at Fort Meigs ;
but I tell ^you that on that occasion he was guilty of the Small Tail
Movement, and I challenge the orator here present to deny it !"
The speaker declared his utter ignorance of what the intruder meant
by " Small Tail Movement."
" I'll tell you," said the man ; "I've got it here in black and white
Here is Grimshaw's History ofthe United States" — ^holding up the book
— " and I'U read what it says : 'At this critical moment. Gen. Harrison
executed a Tiovel movement !* Does the gentleman deny that 1"
" No : go on."
" Well, he executed a novel movement. Now, here's Johnson's dic
tionary" — taking the book out of his pocket and holding it up — " and
here it says: 'Novel — a small tale!' Andthiswas the kind of movement
Gen. Harrison was guilly of. Now, I'm no soger, and don't know muoh
of milentary tictacks — but this I do say ; a man who, in the face of an
enemy, is guilty of a Small Tail Movement, is not fit to be President of
the United States, and he shan't have my vote 1"
The relator of the anecdote says that it was quite impossible for him
to overcome the effect of this speech, and we are left to conclude that
.the vote of that vicinity was given to Van Bcnn.

753
tered upon the duties of his office, with consequent
divisions among the leading members of the whig
party at Washington, deprived the country of nearly
the whole benefit due to a change so emphatically
pronounced by the voice of the people.
From this period, I hare taken no active part
m politics. In reviewing the past — while duly ap
preciating the honor conferred by the confidence
bestowed upon me by the citizens who gave me their
suffrages, I still regard my political career as an un
profitable, nay, an unhappy episode, alien to mj lit
erary position and pursuits, and every way injurious
to my interests and my peace of raind. It gave me
painful glimpses into the littleness, the selfishness, the
utter charlatanism* of a large portion of those poli
ticians who lead, or seem to lead, the van of parties ;
and who, pretending to be guided by patriotism, are

* For example : while I was in the Senate, and the Fifteen Gallon
prohibitory law was under discussion, many people came into the lobby
to listen to the debates, which excited great interest. Among these was
a very respectable man from my own county of Norfolk. He asked me
how I was going to vote. I replied that I had hardly made up ray mind,
and asked his opinion as to what I ought to do. He strongly enjoined
it upon me to vote for the measure, saying that the public mind gener
ally was prepared for it, and that in our county^ especially, the sentiment
in favor of it was overwhelming. And yet, at the next election this very
man was a candidate against me, on the ground that he was in favor of
the repeal of'the law. He insisted that it was an extreme measure ; and
although he was a temperance man — God forbid that he should be any
thing else — he still thought it would do harm to the good cause ! There
fore he contended for its repeal, and the substitution of some milder
course I This mau was a type ofa very- numerous class, whose princi
ples fluctuate with the tide of public opinion, and the chances which
arise for riding into oflloe.

754 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
usually only riding issues, principles, platforms, as ser
vile hobbies which may carry them into office. As
some compensation for this, it has also led me to a
conviction that the great mass of the people are gov
erned by patriotic motives — though even with these
I often noted curious instances in which the public
interests were forgotten in a desire to achieve some
selfish or sinister end.*
* About these days, in a certain town not far from Boston, there was
a large faraily, of several generations, by the name of Cpp. At one of
the elections for members to represent the place in the General Court, it
appeared that araong the votes distributed at the polls were a large
number for William Cpp, and the whole family were present, like
swarming bees, actively engaged in promoting his election. One of
them came up to the person who told me the story, and asked him to
vote for William. He naturally desired to know the reason for such a
measure, and the more particularly as he had never heard of any pecu
liar claims or qualifications, for the office in question, which the said
William possessed. "Well," said the Cpp, "I'll tell you how 'tis.
William's got a little behindhand, aud wants to shingle his bam. This
will cost about a hundred dollars. Now, if he can go to the General
Court one session, he'll save a hundred dollars, and so, you see, he can
shingle his barn 1" I have seen a good deal of this barn-shingling, even
in New England.

HISTOBrCAL, AUUCDOTICAL, ETC. 755

LETTER LIII.
IrUematimal copyright— Mr. JHchens's Mission— His Failure.
Mt dear 0 '*'**'•' '"'"
In the winter of 1842, Mr. Charles Dickens ar-
rived in Boston, where he was received with open
arms. A complimentary dinner* was got up for him,
and fine speeches were made by many of the first
citizens, all in a strain of welcome to the distin
guished stranger. The ball thus set in motion rolled
over the country, and wherever Mr. Dickens went, he
was received in a similar manner — that is, with wel
come, with feasting, with compliments. I remember
* This dinner took place on the 1st of February, 1842. It was deemed
a matter of suflicient importance to have the whole proceedings —
speeches, letters, and toasts — reported, and published in a book. In
the light of the present day, many of these— though sparkling with wit
and good feeling — are rather calculated to make us regret the whole
occasion. The strain of compliment was excessive ; it set an example
which, in this respect, was copied elsewhere — and the object of all this
blunt adulation, as we now know, laughed at it in his sleeve at the
time, and openly afterward, when he had got safe back to England.
This should be a lesson to us for all future time. Foreigners will judge
ns somewhat according to their own standard. They regard all exces
sive demonstrations of the kind here alluded to as proceeding either
from snobbery, or a desire to exhibit themselves, on the part of the
leaders. They are, therefore, rather disgusted than conciliated by these
overdone attentions.

756 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
to have seen him at one of the President's levees at
Washington, there being many distinguished guests
present — Washington Irving, the Earl of Carlisle, &c.
These were totally neglected, while a crowd of curi
ous and admiring followers, forming a gorgeous train
of fair women and brave men, glittered behind Mr.
and Mrs. Dickens. They were, in truth, the observed
of all observers.
It appeared in the sequel, that the author of Pick
wick had crossed the Atlantic for a double purpose —
to write a book, and to obtain international copy
right. In the first he succeeded, in the latter he
failed. Since that time, however, the subject of in
ternational copyright has been a therae of aniraated
discussion in this country, and has even been made
a matter of diplomatic conference between Great
Britain and the United States.

Note et the Publisher. — Here follows a history of copyright, an
argument in favor of international copyright, and a long account of a scheme
of international copyright which was at that time propounded. Since the
flrst publication of these Recollections many and various schemes for the
bringing about of international copyright have been suggested, and the sub
ject has been very fully discussed in the newspapers. Mr. Goodrich argues,
as might he expected of an author ot his extended popularity, very strongly
infavor of the establishment ot international copyright; but, in view of the
frequent and extended discussion that has been devoted to this subject else
where, there is no reason for reproducing in the present edition the twenty
odd pages which are devoted by the author iu his flrst edition to the various
arguments in favor of the scheme.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. '('57

LETTER LIV.
Statistics of the Book Trade — Its Eictension — Ihe Relative Increase of
Am,erican Literature, as compared with British Literature.
Mt dbab 0 ***** *
In my last letter I presented to you some sug
gestions respecting International Copyright. In do
ing this I have naturally gathered up my recollections
of the book trade in the United States for the last
forty years, and compared the past with the present.
I am so impressed with certain prominent and re
markable results and inferences, that I deem it proper
to present them to you. These may be grouped un
der two general heads :
i. The, great extension of the book production in
the United States.
2. The large and increasing relative proportion of
American works.
Unfortunately we have no official resources for
exact statistics upon this subject. The general fact
of a vast development in all the branches of industry
connected with the press, is palpable to all persons
having any knowledge on the subject ; but the de
tails upon which this is founded, and the precise de
gree of increase, are to a considerable extent matters
of conjecture. Nevertheless, there are some facts
within our reach, and by the grouping of these, we

758 . LETTEES — ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
may approach the results we seek, with a sufficient
degree of certainty, for all practical purposes.
I. As to the extension of the book manufacture.
The Book Peodtjotion or Manufaottjre in 1820.
Let us go back to the year 1820, and endeavor to estimate
the gross amount of this trade in the United States at that
period. The following statement, it is supposed, may approacli
the truth:
Amount of books manufactured and sold in the United States in 1820.
School books  $750,000
Classical books  .'  250,000
Theological books  150,000
Law books  200,000
Medical books  150,000
All others  1,000,000
Gross amount  $2,500,000
3^" The space between 1820 and 1830 may be considered as the pe
riod in which our national literature was founded ; it was the age in
which Irving, Cooper, Bryant, Halleck, Paulding, J. E. Drake, Johu
Neal, Brainard, Percival, Hillhouse, and others, redeemed the country
from the sneer that nobody read American books. During this period
we began to have confldeuoe in American genius, and to dream of lit
erary ambition. The -North American Beview, already established,
kept on its steady way, and other attempts were made in behalf of
periodical literature, but with little success.
The Book MAKUFAOTnuE in 18S0.
lfwe take 1830 as a period for estimating the product of the
book manufacture, we suppose it may stand thus :
School books  $1,100,000
Classical books  • 850,000
Theological books  250,000
Law books  800,000
Medical books  200,000
All others  1,300,000
Gross amount  $8,500,000
[ S^" This shows an increase of production of forty per cent, in ten years.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 759
*
From 1830 to 18i0 was an era of great and positive development, and
the foundation of a still more active era of progress and expansion in
the book trade. It may be considered as the point at which our Utera
ture became established in our own confidence, aud to some degree, in
the respect of the world. During this period, the following names
either first appeared or became eminently conspicuous :
In History — Prescott, Sparks, Bancroft, Irving.
In Mathematics — Day, Farrar, and the self-taught Bowditch, whose
translation of the M^chanique Celeste of Laplace, is adraitted to be su
perior to the original, by reason of its happy illustrations and added dis
coveries. In Philology — Webster, whose quarto Dictionary is now adraitted by
high British authority to take precedence of all others.
In Theology — Bush, Barnes, Norton, Stuart, Woods, Jenks, Eobin
son, Spring, A. Alexander, Durbin, Hodge, Bangs, Olin, L. Beecher,
-Tyng, Thornwell.
In Political Economy, Philosophy, &c. — H. C. Carey, Colton, Lieber,
Wayhind, Upham, Tucker.
In General Science, Natural History, &c. — Silliman, Henry, Morton,
Eogers, Eedfield, Espy, Audubon, Olmsted, Dana, Gray, NuttaU, Bur
ritt. In Jurisprudence, International Law, &c. — Kent, Story, Wheaton,
Duer, Cowen.
In Medicine and Surgery — Dunglison, N. Smith, N. E. Smith, Bige
low, Dewees, Beck, Doane, Wood, Mott, Eberle.
In Travels, Geography, &o. — Schoolcraft, Eusohenberger, Stephens,
Farnham. In Essay and Criticism — Channing, the two Everetts, Emerson.
In Fiction — Cooper, Ware, Simras, Bird, Kennedy, Poe, Miss Sedg
wick, Mrs. Child, Miss Leslie, Fay, Hoffman.
In Poetry— Bryant, Sprague, Pierpont, Dana, Willis, Longfellow,
Whittier, Mrs. Sigourney, Mellen, Mo/ris, McLellan, Prentice, Benjamin.
In Educational aud Church Music— Lowell Mason, probably the most
Buocessful author in the United States.
J^" This period is to be noted for the effective labors of W. C.Wood-
bridge, Jaraes G. Carter, Horace Mann, Henry Barnard, and others, in
behalf of common-school education, and an iraraense improvement in
school-books, both in literary and mechanical execution, by means of
which geography, grammar, and history, very extensively becarae com ¦
mon school studies. During the same period, history, chemistry^ natural
philosophy, moral philosophy, rhetoric, geology, were all popularized,
and introduced into the public high-schools. The change in school-
books during this period amounted to a revolution, and resulted in that
amazing expansion in their use and distribution, which now raarks tho
subject of education in the United States. This also was the era of An
nuals, which added largely to the amount ofthe book-trade.

760 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
This is the era of the establishment of the Penny Press, wh a is at
once a sign and instrument of progress. Its home is in the widst of
business, education, literature — in thc very breathing and heari^beating
of life and action : and it gives impulse and vigor to all these inter
ests. So powerful an instrument must sometimes seem to produce
evil, but on the whole it must be regarded as a great civilizer. We may
advert to a single illustration of its expanding influences : the three
principal penny papers of New York, at the present day, 1856— the
Herald, Tribune, and Times — each of them is a political paper, with
political opinions, yet each treats politics as a matter of general informa
tion, and publishes the principal doings and documents of all parties.
This is not so in any coimtry where the penny press does not exist.
This is also the era in which monthly and semi-mothly Magazines
began to live and thrive araong us. Araong the most noted, are the
Knickerbocker, Merchants' Magazine, Grahara's, Southern Literary Mes
senger, all continued to the present tirae, with others which have ceased
to exist. The Book Mandfaotuee in 1840.
The book production for 1840 may be estimated as follows :*
School books  $2,000,000
Classical books  550,000
Theological books  800,000
Law books  400,000
Medical books  250,000
AU others  2,000,000
Gross amount  $5,500,000
J^" This calculation shows an increase of about sixty per cent, for ten
years. From 1840 to 1850 was a period of general prosperity in the country,
and the full impulse of the preceding period continued through this.
American authorship was more appreciated at home and abroad — a
circumstance greatly due to the enlightened and patriotic labors of Dr.
Griswold, who may be considered as among the first and most influential
of our authors iu cultivating a respect for our own literature. New Amer
ican publications "becarae very nuraerous during this period ; the style
of book manufacture was greatly improved ; numerous magazines were
* The following is a table of estimates of the various Industrial Inter
ests connected with the press, presented to Congress in behalf of the
Convention which met at Boston in 1842. Mr. Tileston, of Dorchester,
and myself were the committee appointed to proceed to Washington to
enforce the wishes of the petitioners, founded upon this exhibition.
Mr. Fillmore, the chairman ofthe Committee of Ways and Means, then

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC.

761

¦ founded ; the penny press was diffused, and became more elevated in its
character and more enlarged in its scope — several ofthe editors connected
with it marking the age by their sagacity, vigor, and largeness of view.
This era is also marked by the production of numerous works richly
illustrated by steel and wood engravings. The Harpers entered upon the
publication of handsome editions of books in all departments of litera
ture, raany of them embellished by flne wood engravings ; the Apple-
tons of New York, Butler of Philadelphia, and others, gave to the public
those luxurious volumes, successors of the annuals, already alluded to.
The success of these rich and costly works signalizes the advance of
public taste. Putnam gives us Washington Irving's works in a guise
suited to their excellence, and a little later, the Homes of American
Authors, also in a style suited to the subject. About the same time the
writers for the Knickerbocker present its veteran editor with a Memorial
— an exquisite volume — as muoh a sign of the public appreciation as
their own.
The immense development of the school-book trade is a feature of
this era ; we now see editions of five, ten, twenty thousand copies of
geographies, grammars, spelling-books, readers. Spelling-books count
by millions, and geographies by hundreds of thousands. The mechan
ical character of these works is changed ; they have cast their brown-
paper slough, and appear in the costly dress of flne paper, flue illus
trations, and good binding.' Twenty thousand dollars are paid for the
getting up of a school geography 1
charged with framing the Tariff bill which soon after passed into a
law, gave us a patient hearing, and the views of the petitioners were
duly considered and acceded to.

Employments, &c.

No. of per
sons
employed.

Amount of
business
annually.

No. of books,
&c, annually
produced.

Capital in
vested.

Publishing and Boolcselling
Periodicals, exclusive of j
Newspapers  j
Boolibindera ,  .'.
Type & Stereotype Found- j
ers  j
Engraving, Wood, Steel, & j
Copper, includ. Designs j
Plate Printing 

Newspapers 
Printing, including News- i
papers  ]
Paper of all Itinds used for
printing  j

4,000

3,060 700
500 500

25,088 8,000

$7,000,000 500,000
1,646,000 426,000 250,000
400,000
6,000,000
7,126,9125,000,000

12,000,000 vols
8,000,000 Nos.

i 300,000,000
[ sheets aon'yj

4,000,000 200,000 800,000
400,000

2,200,000
8,000,0005,000,000

¦ At the present time, 1856, it will be safe to double raost of thesa
estimates, to represent the present state of the same interests.

763 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Most of the authors which we have named as belonging to the pre
ceding era, abed their luster upon this. Among those who now first
entered the lists, we may name^
in History— Hildreth, Ingersoll, Eliot, Hawks, T. Irving, Frost,
Headley, Abbott, Brodhead, Mrs. WiUard, Lossing, C. A. Goodrich,
and soon after, Motley, who, at the very outset, has attained a high
reputation. In political history — Young, Benton.
In Jurisprudence — Greenleaf, George T. Curtis, W. W. Story, and
soon after, B. E. Curtis, T. Parsons, Edwards, Dayton, Dean, E. F.
Smith, Dunlap, Waterman, Willard.
Mathematics — Pierce, Davies, Courtenay, Millington, Hackley, Loomis.
Philology — Prof. C. A. Goodrich, editor of Webster's Dictionary;
Worcester, Pickering.
Political Economy, Philosophy, &o. — E. P. Sraith, Mahan, Tappan,
Hickok. Theologj' — Bushnell, Hawes, Cheever, Wainwright, Wines, Hunting
ton, Spring, Wisner, J. A. Alexander, Taylor, MoClintock, E. Beecher,
Williams, Stevens, Fisk, Dowling, Gross, Conant, Choules.
Medicine and Surgery — J. C. Warren, Greene, Parker, Bartlett, Cly-
mer, Drake, Pancoast, H. H. Sraith, Harris, Carson ; and since 1850,
Bedford, Watson, Gross, Flint, Lee, Blackman.
General Science, Natural History, Geography, &c. — Agassiz and
Guyot — whom we now claim as citizens ; with Bartlett, Squiers, Maury,
Mitchell, J. D. Dana, Baird, Hall, ; Emmons, Mahan, D. A. Wells,
Wood, St. John, Wilkes — the latter giving us a new continent by dis
covery ; Lynch, who has furnished the best account of the Dead Sea and
its environs ; and, we may add, Cora. Perry, who introduces us to Japan.
In Classical Literature — Leverett, Anthon, Andrews, Gould, Brooks,
MoClintock, Owen, Kendrick, Sophocles, Johnson, Thacher.
Essay and Criticism^ Prescott, Chapm, Giles, Sprague, Hague, Charles
Sumner, Whipple, Palfrey, Winthrop, Beecher, Cheever, Milburn.
Travels, Geography, &o.— Catlin, Stephens, Curtis, Bayard Taylor,
Bartlett, WiUis, Southgate, Eobinson, OUn, Kendall, Fremont, Kidder,
Parkman, Coggshall, Colton.
In light, raoy writing, full of life-piotures and luscious fancies — Curtis,
Cozzens, Mitchell, Bayard Taylor, Willis, Matthews, Baldwin.
In Miscellaneous Literature — Ticknor, Tuckerman, Longfellow, Gris
wold, Mrs. ChUd, Hall, Headley, Mrs. Kirkland, Grace Greenwood, Mrs.
Ellet, Mrs. Hale, Seba Sraith ; and in 1856, E. A. and G. L. Duyckinck.
In Fiction— MelviUe, KimbaU, Mayo, Mrs. Stowe, Miss -Mackintosh,
Alice Carey, Elizabeth Warner, Mrs. Southworth, Miss Wormley, Mrs.
Oakcs Smith, Minnie Myrtle.
In Poetry — Holmes, LoweU, Buchanan Bead, Bayard Taylor, Saxe,
Epes Sargent, W. K. Wallace, T. W. Parsons, Cranch, Fields.
Books of Practical Utility— Miss Catharine Beecher, Miss Leslie, Fanny
Fern, G. P. Putnam, J. L. Blake, Downing, Haven, and many others.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 763
It is not possible to give aJl the names of those who' havc distinguished
themselves in Educational Manuals ; among them, however, are the fol
lowing : MitcheU, Olncy, Smith, Morse, Willard, Monteith, McNiJly,
Fitch, Miss Cornell, Mrs. WiUard, in School Geographies ; in Readers
ind Spellers, Emerson, Parker, Town, Saunders, Swan, Sargent, Tower,
McGuffie, Cobb, Lovell; in Grammars, Kirkham, Clark, Brown, E. C.
Smith, Weld, Wells, Dalton, Greene, Pineo ; in Arithmetics, Emerson,
Davies, Greenleaf, Thomson, Stoddard, E. C. Sraith, Adams ; in various
other works. Hooker, Gallaudet, Comstock, Burritt, Mrs. Phelps, Page,
Mansfield, H. N. Day, Boyd, Miss Dwight, Dariey, Gillespie ; in Maps
and Atlases, MitcheU, J. H. Colton. The latter has in progress, and
nearly completed, .the best General Atlas ever published in any country.
The Book Manueaotuee xn 1850.
The era of 1850 affords the following estimates :
School books  $5,500,000
Classical books  1,000,000
Theological books  500,000
Law books  700,000
Medical books  400,000
All other books  4,400,000
Gross amount  .*.  $12,500,000
This shows an advance of one hundred and twenty-five per cent, iu
ten years.
From 1850 to 1856, the momentum of preceding periods was
reinforced by the quickening impulse of a host of female writers,
whose success presents a marked phenomenon in the history of
our literature at this time.
To this era belongs Mrs. Stowe, who, so far as the sale of her works is
concerned, may be considered the most successful woman-writer ever
known; Miss Warner, Fanny Fern, Mrs. Stephens, Miss Cummings,
Marion Harland (Miss Hawes), and others, produce books of which
twenty, thirty, forty, fifty thousand are sold in a year.
About this time is the successful era of monthly magazines, as Har
pers', Putnam's, &c. The former outstrips all other works of the kind
yet pubhshed, issuing pne hundred and seventy thousand numbers a
month !
The last ten years have been noted for the production of local, state,
town, and city histories, as well as genealogical histories. Many of
these are of great interest, going back to the lights and shadows of
colonial periods. Here are the future resources of historic poetry and
romance, of painting and sculpture.

7 64 LETTERS^-BIOGEAPmCAL,
During this period there have also been produced numeroub valuable
and costly works by the General Government, relating to navigation,
geography, &e., and also local, State surveys, under State patronage,
of great interest and utility.
During this period, pictorial-sheet literature is brought to a climax
in every form, up to the blanket-folio'. This is the age of vigorous ad
vertising, by means of which "fifty thousand copies are sold before a
book is printed."
This is also the millennial era of Spiritual Literature, which has now
its periodicals, its presses, and its libraries.
It is also the climax ofthe Thrilling, Agonizing Literature, and which,
by the way, is thus rather wickedly mocked by the poet of the " Fruit
t'estival'* already alluded to :
"This is the new 'Sensation' Book —
A work of so much force
Tbe first edition all blew up,
And smashed a cart and horse I
A friend who read the manuscript
Without sufficient care,
Was torn to rags, although he had
Six cables round his bair !
" ' The Eggs of Thought' Til recommend
As very thrilling lays;
Some poets poach — but here is one
That all the papers praise.
The school commissioners out West
Have ordered seventy tons,
That widely they may be dispersed
Among their setting suns 1
" And here's a most Astounding Talo —
A volume full of fire;
Tbe author's name is known to ikme —
Stupendous Stubbs, Esquire I
And here's * Tbe Howling Ditch of Crime,*
By A. Sappbira Stress ;
Two hundred men fell dead last night
A working at the press 1"
Thb Book Manufacture in 1356.
The amount of the produotioii of our American book-trade at
this time — that is, for the year 1856 — may be estimated at about
sixteen millions of dollars ; and the annual increase of this in
terest at about a million of dollars a year.
This sum may be distributed as follows ;

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 765
Produced in New York city in the year 1 856  $6,000,000
In other parts ofthe State— Albany, Schenectady, Utica, Sy
racuse, Cazenovia, Ithaca, Eochester, Auburn, Buffalo, &a. 600,000
In Boston  2,500,000
In other New England towns— New Haven, Hartford, Prov
idence, Springfield, Northampton, Salem, Newburyport,
Portland, Keene, &o  ,  600,000
In PhUadelphia  3,400,000
[The operations of the book-trade in this city are enormous, but a
large amount of the books distributed from this point are manu
factured elsewhere. The house of Lippincott, Grambo & Co. does
a larger book business than any other in the world. They are
very extensive publishers, but they often order whole editions of
other houses.]
In Cincinnati  1,300,000
[This city is less than a century old, from its first log-cabin ; yet an
excellent authority says: " In 1850 this western city, with a pop
ulation of 116,000, has twelve publishing houses, which give em
ployment to seven hundred people. The value of books and
periodicals published here is $1,250,000 a year, I consider that
there is more reading of books in Obio than in Germany. The
chief works in demand are religious and educational."*]
In the Northwestern States — Detroit, Chicago, Milwaukee.. . 100,000
In the District of Columbia— by the Government  750,000
The Southern and Southwestern States consume a consider
able amount of books, though sraall in comparison to the
rest of the United States. Their production of books and
of literature is stiU less in proportion. B.iltimore, Eich-
mond, Charleston, Columbus, Savannah, Maoon, Mobile,
New Orleans, St. Louis, and Louisville, are considerable
markets for the sale of books, and a few works are pub
lished in some of these places. In Baltimore aud Lonis-
viUe, the publishing interest is extensive. We may esti
mate the whole book production in this section at.  750,006
Total in the United States  $16,000,000
You will bear in mind that this estimate, throughout, regards only books
manufactured in the United States,' the amount of books imported is
probably about a million of dollars a year. If so, the whole consump
tion of books in this country is probably not far from seventeen millions
of dollars annually !

* See the "Bibliographical Guide to American Literature" of Messrs.
Ti'ubner & Co., London — an interesting work, abounding in curious and
Startling yet gratifying facts, in respect to the literature of the United

766 LETTERS  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Now, my dear G . . . ., you must remember that the
details of these estimates are not founded upon pre
cise official statistics, but are only inferences from
general facts tolerably well established. Considering
these as estimates merely, they may still be such
probable approximations to the truth as to give us
a general view of the amount and movement of the
book production of the United States. This, of
course, leaves out the newspaper and periodical press,
which circulates annually six millions of copies, and
five hundred millions of separate numbers! I do
not dilate upon the fact that we have two hundred
colleges, a hundred thousand elementary schools,
fifty theological seminaries, twenty law schools, forty
medical schools, and that our public and school libra
ries number five millions of volumes ;* yet these are
to be taken in connection with the tabular views 1
have given. Then, I ask, have we not a literature?
I now invite your attention to another topic :
II. The large and increasing proportion of American
productions — that is, productions of American mind — in
the books published in the United States.
Taking, as before, certain prominent facts as the basis of cal
culation, we arrive at the following conclusions :
In 1820, the book manufacture of the United States was based
upon works of which thirty per cent, was the production of
American authors, and seventy per cent, of British authors.
* See Triibner's Bibliographical Guide, before quoted, page xxvii. It
ip there estimated that in 1860 the publie libraries wUl amount to ten
millions of volumes.

HISTORICAL, ANECDOTICAL, lEl'C. 76'?
I^" From 1820 to 1880, as we have seen, a considerable impulse was
given to American literature,, which now began sensibly to dimmish the
relative proportion qf British works among us.
¦ In 1830, the book production of the United States embraced
¦forty per cent, of American works, and sixty per cent, of British
works. I^" From 1880 to 1840, still greater activity prevaUed in American
authorship, and school-books were extensively multiplied ; we shall see,
therefore, during this period, a corresponding relative increase of Amer
ican works.
In 1840, we estimate the proportion of American works to be
fifty-five per cent., and that of British works forty-five per cent.

' From 1840 to 1850 has been the most thriving era of American
literature, and during this ten years we find that the balance has turned
largely in favor of American works.
In 1850, we estimate the proportion of American works to be
seventy per cent, and of British works to be thirty per cent.
In 1856, it is probable that the proportion of American works
is eighty per cent, and that of British books twenty per cent.
l^y It 'will be understood that we here speak of all new editions of every
hind : of the works of living Brilfish authors, the proportion is much less
than twenty per-cent.
Some general observations should be made by way of explanation.
1. School-books constitute a very large proportion of the book
product of the United States ; probably thirty to forty per cent, of the
whole. Sixty years ago we used English readers, spelling-books, and
arithmetics ; forty years ago we used English books adapted to our
wants. Now our school-books are superior to those of all other coun
tries, and are wholly by American authors. More than a million of Web
ster's Spelling-books are published i\ery year. We produce annually
more school-books than the whole continent of Europe !
2. The Classical works in use, formerly altogether British, are now
seven-eiglithfl American.
3. The elementary treatises on law, medicine, theology,, and science,
are mostly American.
4. The dictionaries in general use are American.
5. The popular reading of the masses is three- fourths American.
6. Three-fourths of the new novels aud romances are American.
7. The new foreign literature, reproduced among us, consists mainly ot
works of science, philosophy, jurisprudence, medicine and surgery, di
vinity, criticism, and general literature. Thirty per cent, of the works of

768 LETTERS  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
these classes— constituting the higher walks of literature generally—
are of foreign OTigm.—See Note II, p. 552, ml. ii.
Now, not insisting upon the precise accuracy of
these estimates, but still regarding them as approaches
to the truth, we have the basis for some interesting
observations. Though, as an independent nation, we are less than
a century old, and though we have been busily en
gaged in exploring wildernesses, in felling forests,
founding States, building cities, opening roads ; in
laying down railways, in teaching steamboats to
traverse the waters before only known to the Indian
canoe ; iu converting lakes and rivers — the largest in
the world — into familiar pathways of commerce, and
as a consummation of our progress, in netting half a
continent with lines of telegraph — still, we have found
time, and courage, and heart, to outstrip all that the
world has before seen, in the diffusion of knowledge,
by means of the periodical press ; in the number and
excellence of our common schools ; in the number,
cheapness, and excellence of our books for elemen
tary education.
Though not claiming comparison with the Old
World in the multitude of new works of the highest
class in literature and science, we have still made a
good beginning, and have many readers in the other
hemisphere, under the eaves of universities and col
leges, which have been founded for centuries.
In the midst of the haste and hurry of life, induced

769
by the vast fields of enterprise around us and beck
oning us on to the chase — ^we still find a larger por
tion of our people devoted to education, and read
ing, and meditation, and reflection, than is to be met
with in any other land ; as a corollary of this, we
find, relatively, more hands, more purses, more heads
and hearts, devoted to the support of literature and
the dissemination of knowledge, than in any other
country of equal population.
It is also to be observed that, after all that has
been said and surmised as to the dependence of Amer
ican literature upon the British press, that the ele
ment of British mind, in the production of American
publications, is really but about twenty per cent.,
and this proportion is rapidly diminishing. Of the
new books annually produced in the United States,
not more than one-fifth part are either directly or in
directly of foreign origin.
It is, however, to be at the same time admitted and
reflected upon, that our deficiency and our depend
ence lie chiefly in the higher efforts of mind and
genius — those which crown a nation's work, and
which confirm a nation's glory ; and it is precisely
here that we are now called upon, by every legitimate
stimulus, to rouse the emulation, the ambition, the
patriotism of our country.* It is, as tributary to such
* " In order that America may take its due rank in the commonwealth
of nations, a literature is needed which shall be .the exponent of its
higher life. We live in times of turbulence and> change. There is a
general dissatisfaction, manifesting itself often in rude contests and ruder

770 LETTERS — BIOGRAPHICAL,
a consummation, that I would earnestly urge upon
our people, and those whom they have placed in au
thority, to adopt the modified but still desirable
measure of International Copyright, already suggest
ed. Just at present this would be a little against us,
that is to say, we should buy more copyrights of the
British than they of us ; but, at the rate of progress
hitherto attained by American literature, before twen
ty years — probably before ten years — are past, the
speech, with the gulf which separates principles from at"tions. Men are
struggling to realize dim ideals of right and truth, and each failure adds
to the desperate earnestness of their efforts. Beneath all the shrewd
ness and selfishness of the American character, there is a smouldering
enthusiasm which flames out at the flrst touch of fire — soinetimes at the
hot and hasty words of party, and sometimes at the bidding of great
thoughts and unselfish principles. The heart of the nation is ea.sily
stirred to its depths ; but those who rouse its fiery impulses into action
are often men compounded of ignorance and wickedness, and whoUy
unfitted to guide the passions which they are able to excite. There is .
no country in the world which has nobler ideas embodied in more worth
less shapes. All our factions, fanaticisms, reforms, parties, creeds, ri
diculous or dangerous though they often appear, are founded on some
aspiration or reality which deserves a better form and expression. There
is a mighty power in great speech. If the sources of what we call our
fooleries and faults were rightly addressed, they would echo more ma
jestic and kindling truths. We want a poetry which shall speak in
clear, loud tones to the people ; a poetry which shall make us more in
love with our native land, by converting its ennobling scenery into the
images of lofty thoughts ; which shaU give visible form and life to the
abstract ideas of our written constitutions ; which shall confer upon
virtue all the strength of principle and all the energy of passion ; which
shall disentangle freedom from cant and senseless hyperbole, and ren
der it a thing of suoh loveliness and grandeur as to justify all self-sacri
fice ; which shall make us love mau by the new consecrations it sheds
on his life and destiny ; which shall force through the thin partitions of
conventionalism and expediency ; vindicate the majesty of reason ; give
new power to the voice of conscience, and new vitality to human affec
tion ; soften and elevate passion ; guide eutbusiasm in a right direc
tion;; and speak out in the high language of men to a nation of men."
E. P. Whipple.

771
scales will be turned in our favor, and they will buy
more copyrights of us than we shall of them. At
all events, an immediate and powerful stimulus would
be added to authorship, and to some of the trades and
professions connected with the production of books
in this country, if we could have the British market
opened to us on some such plan as is herein pro
posed. Nearly every new work would be stereotyped,
and a set of plates sent to England ; and these, in
view of the increased sale, and the high and im
proving standard of taste, abroad, would be got up
in a superior manner, in all respects. Let us think
well of these things 1

LETTER LV-
Recollections of Washington^ The House of Representatives— Missouri
Compromise— Clay, Randolph, and Lowndes— The Senate— Rufus Emg
 WHXiam Pinkney — Mr. Macon — Judge Marshall — Election of J. Q.
Adams— President Monroe — Meeting of Adams and Jackson— Jackson's
Administration — Clay—Calhomi — Webster— A^neodotes.
My dbae 0 ***** *
In the autumn of 1846, I went with my family
to Paris, partly for literary purposes, and partly also
to give my children advantages of education, which,
in consequence of my absorbing cares for a series of
years, they had been denied. ' Here they remained
for nearly two years, while I returned home to at
tend to my affairs, spending the winters, however,
17*

773 LETTE]
with them. Leaving my observations upon Paris to
be grouped in one general view, I pass on with my
narrative. Toward the close of 1849 I removed to New York,
to execute certain literary engagements. These com
pleted, I went, in December, 1850, to Washington,
taking my family with me. Here we remained for
three months, when, having received the appoint
ment of United States Consul to Paris, I returned to
New York, and after due preparation, sailed on the
5th of April, 1851, to enter upon the official duties
which thus devolved upon me.
I invite you to return with me to Washington.
I had often been there, and had of course seen and
observed many of the remarkable men who had fig
ured in the great arena of politics, through a space
of thirty years. I shall now gather up and present
to you a few reminiscences connected with this, our
national metropolis, which still linger in my mind.
Avoiding political matters, however, which are duly
chronicled in the books, I shall only give sketches
of persons and things, less likely to have fallen un
der your observation.
My first visit to Washington was in the winter of
1819-20. Monroe was then President, and D. D.
Tompkins, Vice-president ; Marshall was at the head
of the Supreme Court ; Clay, Speaker of the House
of .Eepresentatives. In the latter body, the two most
noted members, exclusive of the speaker, were Wil-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 773
liam Lowndes of South Carolina, and John Ean
dolph of Virginia.
At the period of my visit, the clouds were mus-
. tering in the horizon for that tempest which not only
agitated Congress, but the whole country, in conse
quence of the application of Missouri for admission
into the Union. A few weeks later, the "Compro
mise of 36° 30'," was passed by both houses, but the
actual admission of the State did not take place till
the ensuing session. I was at Washington but one
day, and of course could only take a hurried view
of the principal objects of interest. I was in the House
of Representatives but a single hour. While I was
present, there was no direct discussion of the agita
ting subject which already filled everybody's mind,
but still the excitement flared out occasionally in
incidental allusions to it, like puffs of smoke and
jets of flame which issue from a house that is on fire
within. I recollect that Clay descended from the
speaker's chair, and made a brief speech, thrilling
. the House bj' a single passage, in which he spoke
of "poor, unheard Missouri" — she being then with
out a representative in Congress. His tall, tossing
form, his long, sweeping gestures, and above all, his
musical, yet thrilling tones, made an impression upon
me which I can never forget. Some time after, in the
course of the debate, a tall man, with a little head and
a small, oval countenance like that of a boy prema
turely grown old, arose and addressed the chair. He

774 LETTERS  BIOGRAPHICAL,
paused a moment, and I had time to study, his ap
pearance. His hair was jet black, and clubbed in a
queue ; his eye was black, small, and painfully pen
etrating. His complexion was a yellowish-brown,
bespeaking Indian blood. I knew at once that it
must be John Eandolph. As he uttered the words,
"Mr. Speaker!" — every member turned in his seat,
and facing him, gazed as if some portent had sud
denly appeared before them. " Mr. Speaker" — said
he, in a shrill voice, which, however, pierced every
nook and corner of the hall — " I have but one word
to say ; one word, sir, and that is to state a fact.
The measure to which the gentleman has just allu
ded, originated in a dirty trick !" These were his
precise words. The subject to which he referred I
did not gather, but the coolness and impudence of
the speaker were admirable in their way. I never
saw better acting, even in Kean. His look, his man
ner, his long arm, his elvish fore-finger — ^like an excla
mation-point, punctuating his bitter thought — showed
the skill of a master. The effect of the whole was to
startle everybody, as if a pistol-shot had rung through
the hall*

* A remarkable instance of the license which Mr. Eandolph allowed
to himself, occurred in the Senate, of which he was then a member,
soon after Mr. Adams's accession to the presidency. In a discussion
which took place upon the " Panama Mission," Eandolph closed a very
Intemperate speech with the following words, on their face referring to
events which had occurred at a recent race-course, but, in fact, plainly
meaning the alliance between Mr. Adams and Mr. Clay :
" I waa defeated, horse, foot, aud dragoons — cut up, clean broke down

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 775
Soon after Lowndes arose, and there was a general
moveraent ofthe members from the remote parts ofthe
room, toward him. His appearance was remarkable.
He was six feet two inches high — slender, bent, ema
ciated, and evidently of feeble frame. His complex
ion was sallow and dead, and his face almost without
expression. His voice, too, was low and whispering.
And yet he was, all things considered, the strong
man of the House ; strong in his various knowledge,
his comprehensive understanding, his pure heart, his
upright intentions, and above all, in the confidence
these qualities had inspired. Every thing he said was
listened to as the words of wisdom. It was he who
gave utterance to the sentiment that the " office of
president was neither to be solicited nor refused."
I was unable to hear what he said, but the stillness
around — the intent listening of the entire assembly —
by the coalition of Blifil and Black George — by ihe combination,, unheard
of tiU ihen,ofthe Puritan with the Black-leg ."'
The " Coalition," so much talked of at the time, charged Mr. Clay
with giving Mr. Adams his influence in the election to the presidency,
in consideration that he was tc be Secretary of State. This was urged
with great vehemence and effect, both against Mr. Adams's administra
tion and Mr. Clay, personally. Eandolph's endorsement of the charge,
at this time, fiendish as the manner of it was, seemed a staggering blow,
and Mr. Clay thought it necessary to call him to account for it. Tha
duel took place on the banks of the Potomac, but Eandolph fired in
the air, and the difficulty was appeased.
No man in our history has been more discussed than John Ean
dolph. He was undoubtedly a man of genius, but, on the whole, both
in public and private, was an exceedingly dangerous example. He
said some good things, and sometimes seemed almost inspired, but his
mind and heart were soured and narrowed by inherent physical defects,
which at last led to occasional lunacy. He died at Philadelphia iu 1838,
aged 60.

776 LEITEES  BIOGKAPHICAL,
bore testimony to the estimation in which he was
held. I never saw him afterward. About two years
later, he died on a voyage to England for the benefit
of his health, and thus, in the language of an emi
nent member of Congress, " were extinguished the
brightest hopes of the country, which, by a general
movement, were looking to him as the future chief-
magistrate of the nation."
These sketches, I know, are trifles ; but as this was
my first look at either branch of Congress, and as,
moreover, I had a glance at three remarkable men,
you will perhaps excuse me for recording my im
pressions. In the Senate, the persons who most attracted my
attention were Eufus King, of New York, then hold
ing the highest rank in that body for able states
manship, combined with acknowledged probity and
great dignity of person, manner, and character;
Harrison Gray Otis, whom I have already described ;
William Hunter, of Ehode Island, noted for his
agreeable presence and his great conversational pow
ers; William Pinkney,* of Maryland, the most dis-
* WUliam Pinkney was a native of Annapolis, bom ITSi. He was
appointed to various European missions by the United State.s govern
ment, and held other eminent public stations. His greatest celebrity,
however, was attained at the bar, where he was distinguished alike for
learning and eloquenee. He was a great student, and prepared himself
with the utmost eare, though he affected to rely chiefiy on his native
powers. A member of Monroe's Cabinet onee told me that be heard
Pinkney, about five o'clock ofa winter morning, reciting and commit
ting to memory, in his room, the peroration ofa plea which be heard
deUvered the same day before the Supreme Court 1

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 777
tinguished lawyer of that era — a large, handsome
man, and remarkable for his somewhat foppish dress
— wearing, when I saw him, a white waistcoat, and
white-top boots ; and Mr. Macon, of North Carolina,
a solid, farmer-like man, but greatly esteemed for
combining a sound patriotism with a consistent polit
ical career. On the whole, the general aspect of the
Senate was that of high dignity, sobriety, and refine
ment. There were more persons of that body who
had the marks of well-bred gentlemen, in their air,
dress, and demeanor, than at the present day. In
manners, the Senate has unquestionably degenerated.
During the half hour in which I was present, there
was no debate. I went to the hall of the Supreme
Court, but the proceedings were without special in
terest. Among the judges were Marshall and Story,
both of whom riveted my attention. The former was
now sixty-four years old, and still in the full vigor of
his career. He was tall and thin, with a small face,
expressive of acuteness and amiability. His per
sonal manner was eminently dignified, yet his brow
did not seem to me to indicate the full force of his
His senatorial displays are said to have been often more florid than
profound. Soon after first taking his seat in the House of Eepresenta
tives he made a speech, which was very brilliant, but rather pretentious
and dictatorial. John Eandolph gave him a hint of this. He said:
" Mr. Speaker, the gentleman from Maryland" — then pausing, and
looking toward Pinkney, added — "I believe the gentleniau is from
Maryland?" As Pinkney had been ambassador to several courts in
Europe, and was the most conspicuous lawyer at the bar of the Supreme
Court, he felt this sarcasm keenly. When I saw him, he had just taken
his seat in the Senate ; two years afterward he diod, aged fifty-seven.

773 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
great abilities and lofty moral qualities. I saw him
many times afterward, and learned to look with rev
erence upon him, as being the best representative
of the era and spirit of Washington, which lingered
among us.
I pass over several visits which I made at different
periods to the capital, and come to the winter of
1825, when J. Q. Adams was elected President by the
House of Eepresentatives. I was in the gallery of
that body at the time the vote was declared. The
result produced no great excitement, for it had been
foreseen for some days. The popular sentiment of the
country, however, was no doubt overruled by elect
ing to the chief-magistracy the second* of the three
candida,tes eligible to the office, and this was severely
avenged four years afterward at the polls. Mr. Ad
ams, with all the patronage of the government, was
displaced by his rival. Gen. Jackson, in 1828, by an
electoral vote of one hundred and seventy-eight to
eighty-three. But it is not my purpose to load these light letters
with the weightier matters of politics. I only give an

* The electoral vote stood thus : for Gen. Jackson, ninety-nine ; Mr.
Adams, eighty-four; Mr. Crawford, forty-one; Mr. Clay, thirty-seven.
It was perfectly constitutional to elect Mr. Adams, but the event showed
the difficulty of sustaining a President who has less than one-third of
the popular vote in his favor.
The vote in the House of Eepresentatives was flrst declared by Daniel
Webster, and then by John Eandolph. At the announcement that
Adams was elected, there was some clapping of hands and there were
some hisses, whereupon the galleries were cleared.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 779
outline of public events, which may serve as frames
to the personal tableaux which I wish to present to
your view. Let me take you, then, to the President's
levee, the evening of the 2d of February, 1825 — in
the afternoon of which Adams had triumphed and
Jackson had been defeated.
The apartments at the White House were thronged
to repletion — for not only did all the world desire to
meet and gossip over the events of the day, but this
was one of the very last gatherings which would take
place under the presidency of Monroe, and which
had now continued for eight years. It was the first
time that I had been present at a presidential levee,
and it was therefore, to me, an event of no ordinary
excitement. The President I had seen before at Hartford, as I
have told you ; here, in the midst of his court, he
seemed to me even more dull, sleepy, and insignifi
cant in personal appearance, than on that occasion.
He was under size, his dress plain black, and a little
rusty ; his neckcloth small, ropy, and carelessly tied ;
his fi-ill matted; his countenance, wilted with age
and study and care. He was almost destitute of
forehead, and what he had, was deeply furrowed in
two distinct arches over his eyes, which were small,
gray, glimmering, and deeply set in large sockets.
Altogether, his personal appearance was owlish and
ordinary — without dignity, either of form or expres
sion; indeed, I could scarce get over the idea that

780 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
there was a certain look of meanness in his counte
nance. The lowness of his brow was so remarkable
that a person in the room said to me, in looking at
him — "He hasn't got brains enough to hold his hat
on !" His manners, however, which were assiduously
courteous, with a sort of habitual diplomatic smile
upon his face, in some degree redeemed the natural
indifference of his form and features. I gazed with
eager curiosity at this individual — seeking, and yet
in vain, to discover in his appearance the explana
tion of the fact that his presidency had been consid
ered as the era of a millennial truce between the great
parties whose strife had agitated the country to its
foundations ; and also of another fact — that he had,
like Washington, been elected to the presidency a
second time, almost without opposition. I could,
however, find no solution of these events in the
plain, homely, undemonstrative presence before me.
History has indeed given the interpretation — for we
know that, despite these traits in his personal ap
pearance, Mr. Monroe possessed a quiet energy of
character, combined with a sound and penetrating
judgment, great experience, and strong sense, which
rendered his administration in some respects emi
nently successful.
Mrs. Monroe appeared much younger, and was of
very agreeable manners and person. During the
eight years of her presidency over the sociabilities of
the White House, she exercised a genial influence in

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 781
infusing elegance and dignity into the intercourse of
the society which came under her sway.
I shall pass over other individuals present, only
noting an incident which respects the two persons in
the assembly who, most of all others, engrossed the
thoughts of the visitors — Mr. Adams the elect, Gen.
Jackson the defeated. It chanced in the course of
the evening that these two persons, involved in the
throng, approached each other from opposite direc
tions, yet without knowing it. Suddenly, as they
were almost together, the persons around, seeing
what was to happen, by a sort of instinct stepped
aside and left them face to face. Mr. Adams was by
himself; Gen. Jackson had a large, handsome lady on
his arm. They looked at each other for a moment,
and then Gen. Jackson moved forward, and reaching
out his long arm, said — "How do you do, Mr. Ad
ams ? I give you my left hand, for the right, as you
see, is devoted to the fair : I hope you are very well,
sir." All this was gallantly and heartily said and
done. Mr. Adams took the general's hand, and said,
with chilling coldness — "Very well, sir: I hope Gen.
Jackson is well !" It was curious to see the western
planter, the Indian fighter, the stern soldier who had
-written his country's glory in the blood of the enemy
at New Orleans — genial and gracious in the midst of
a court, while the old courtier and diplomat was stiff,
rigid, cold as a statue ! It was all the more remark
able from the fact that, four hours before, the former

783 LETTERS  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
had been defeated, and the latter was the victor, in
a struggle for one of the highest objects of human
ambition. The personal character of these two indi
viduals was in fact well expressed in that chance
meeting : the gallantry, the frankness, and the hear
tiness of the one, which captivated all ; the coldness,
the distance, the self-concentration of the other, whicb
repelled all.*
* A somewhat severe bnt stUl acute analyst of Mr. Adams's character
says : " Undoubtedly, one great reason of his unpopularity waa his cold,
antipathetic manner, and the suspicion of selfishness it suggested, or at
least aided greatly to confirm. None approached Mr. Adams, but to
recede. He never succeeded, he never tried to conciliate."
I recollect an anecdote somewhat illustrative of this. When he waa
candidate for the Presidency, his political friends thought it advisable
that he should attend a cattle-show at Worcester, Mass., so as to concil
iate the numbers of influential men who might be present. Accordingly
he went, and while there many persons were introduced to him, and
among the rest a farmer of the vicinity — a man of substance and great
respectability. On being presented, he said —
" Mr. Adams, I am very glad to see you. My wife, when she waa a
gal, lived in your father's family ; you were then a little boy, and she
has told me a great deal about you. She has very often combed your
head." " Well," said Mr. Adams, in his harsh way — " I suppose she combs
yours now !" The poor farmer slunk back like a lashed hound, feeling
the smart, but utterly unconscious ofthe provocation.
Mr. Adams's course in the House of Eepresentatives— to whicJi he
was elected for a series of years, after he had been President— was liable
to great and serious exception. His age, the high positions he had
held, his vast experience and unbounded stores of knowledge, might
have made him the arbiter of that body. Suoh, however, was his love
of gladiatorial displays, that he did more to promote scenes of collision,
strife, and violence, in words and deeds, than any other member. I
remember one day to have been on the floor of the House, when he at
tacked Mr. Wise with great personality and bitterness. In aUusion to
the Cilley duel, with which he was connected, he spoke of him as coming
into that assembly, " his hands dripping with blood !" There was a
terrible yarring tone in his voice, which gave added effect to the
denunciation. Every person present seemed to be thriUed with a sort

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 783
I pass over several years, and come to the period
when Jackson was President, at which time I was
often at Washington. It was a marked epoch, for
Webster, Calhoun, and Clay were then in the Senate.
It is seldom that three such men appear upon the
theater of action at the same time. They were each
distinct from the other in person, manners, heart,
constitution ; they were from different sections of the
country, and to some extent reflected the manners,
habits, and opinions of these diverse regions. They
were all of remarkable personal appearance : Web
ster of massive form, dark complexion, and thought
ful, solemn countenance ; Clay, tall, of rather slight
frame, but keen, flexible features, and singular ease
and freedom in his attitudes, his walk, and his ges
tures. Calhoun was also tall, but erect, and rigid
in his form — his eye grayish blue, and flashing from
beneath a brow at once imperious and scornful. All
these men were great actors, not through art, but na
ture, and gave to the effect of their high intellectual
endowments, the added power of commanding per
sonal presence and singularly expressive counte
nances. They have passed from the stage, and all
of horror, rather toward Mr. Adams than the object of his reproaches.
In speaking of this scene to me afterward, an eminent member of Con
gress said, that " Mr. Adams's greatest delight was to be the hero of a
row." There is no doubt that the rude personal passages which often
occur in the House of Eepresentatives, derived countenance from Mr.
Adams's example. It is melancholy to reflect how a great intellect, and,
on the whole, a great life, were marred and dwarfed by inherent personal
defects.

784 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
that survives of them belongs to the domain of his
tory; Many of the speeches, now recorded in their
books, I heard and remember, with their lofty images
still painted in my eye and their thrilling tones still
echoing in my ear. Those who never heard them,
never saw them, will hereafter read and ponder and
admire the glowing words, the mighty thoughts they
have left behind ; but they can never compass the
conceptions which linger in the minds of those who
beheld them in the full exercise of their faculties, and
playing their several parts on their great theater of
life and action — the Senate of the United States.
Calhoun was educated in Connecticut, first gradu
ating at Yale College, and then at the Litchfield law
school. I have often heard his classmates speak of
him as manifesting great abilities and great ambi
tion, from the beginning. He was particularly
noted for his conversational powers, and a cordiality
of manners which won the hearts of all. He was
deemed frank, hearty, sympathetic. One of his inti
mates at Yale, told me that about the year 1812 he
was elected to Congress. Mr. Calhoun was then a
member, and one of the greatest pleasures his class
mate anticipated, was in meeting his college friend.
He was kindly received, but in the first interview,
he discovered that the heart of the now rising poli
tician was gone. He had already given up to am
bition what was meant for mankind.
Mr. Calhoun had, however, many friends in New

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 785
England, partly from the favorable impression he
made while residing there, and partly also from his
conduct during the earlier portion of his public career.
He had, indeed, promoted the war of 1812, but in
many of his opinions — especially in the support of
a navy — he coincided with the North. His admin
istration of the war department from 1817, during
the long period of seven years, was singularly suc
cessful, and everywhere increased his reputation as
a practical statesman. It is a curious circumstance,
explained by the facts I have just mentioned, that in
the election of 1824, while Jackson was defeated for
the presidency, Calhoun was still chosen vice-presi
dent, and mainly by northern votes.* Thus far his
measures, his policy, had been national ; but he soon
changed, and frequently shifting his position, lost the
confidence of his own party and of the country. For
the last fifteen years of his life, " he was like a strong
man struggling in a morass : every effort to extricate
himself only sinking him deeper and deeper." He has
passed away, leaving abundant evidences of his abil
ities, but with the sad distinction of having success
fully devoted the last years of his life to the estab
lishment of the doctrine in his own State and among
many of his admirers, that domestic Slavery is a good
and beneficent institution — compatible with the Con
stitution of the United States, and entitled to pr6
* Mr. Calhoun had one hundred and fourteen votes fV«m the non
slaveholding States, and sixty-eight only from the others.

786 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
tection and perpetuity: beneath its banner ! What
a departure is this from the views and opinions of
the founders of our National Independence and the
Federal Union — Washington, Franklin, Jefferson,
and Madison !
Mr. Clay was also a supporter of the war of 1812,
and probably was, more than any other individual,
responsible for it. During its progress, he was the
eloquent defender of the administration, through its
struggles and disasters, and was hence the special
object of New England hostility. He, however, join
ed Mr. Adams, in 1825, and having contributed, by
his commanding influence, to his election, became his
Secretary of State. His policy upon the tariff after
ward brought him into harmony with the North, and
he was long the favorite candidate of the whigs for
the presidency. But he, too, like Calhoun, was a
man of " positions," and with all his abilities — with
all his struggles — ^he slipped between them, and fell,
without realizing the great object of his eager am
bition — the presidency.*

* There seems to have been a singular fatuity in Mr. Clay's great
measures — if we may be permitted to test them by time and their
result. He promoted the war, but was himself one of the negotia
tors of a peace with the enemy, without a single stipulation in regard
to the causes of the war, and this too after an expenditure of thirty
thousand Uvea and a hundred millions of dollars on our side, and prob
ably au equal expenditure on the other. The Missouri Compromise of
1^20, which he so far favored as to gain the credit of it, has been re
cently expunged, leaving national discord and local civil wariu its place.
The Comprcimise of 1888 was regarded by many of the eminent men iu
the country, as one of the most disastrous political movements that conld

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 787
The first time I ever saw Mr. Webster was on the
lYth of June, 1825, at the laying of the corner-stone
of the Bunker Hill Monument. I shall never forget
his appearance as he strode across the open area, en
circled by some fifty thousand persons — men and
women— waiting for the " Orator of the Day," nor
the shout that simultaneously burst forth, as he was
recognized, carrying up to the skies the name of
"Webster!" "Webster!" "Webster!"
It was one of those lovely days in June, when the

have been devised, and by its inconsistency with his previous doctrines,
lost him forever the confldence of his best friends, especially at the
North. Mr. J. Q. Adams once told me that he considered this as a fatal
mistake on Mr.. Clay's part, as he saved Mr. Calhoun without concilia
ting him, at the sarae time alienating many leading men throughout the
"country who had before been devoted to him. The Compromise of 1850,
in which Mr. Clay was the chief, has already lost its force, and is likely
hereafter to be rather a source of agitation than of peace. His grand and
comprehensive system, to which he gave the name of "American,"
and which proposed to build up a mighty nation through a National
Bank, giving us a currency — Internal Improvements, promoting com
merce and binding the States in the bonds of union — the Tariff, to ren
der us independent of foreign nations in peace and in war — and the
Panama Mission, placing us at the head of the powers of this conti
nent, — all these have been trampled under foot by Jackson, and Van
Buren, and Polk, and Pierce, and the People. They have been erased
from our policy, and their history is chiefly memorable for the abUity
with which their great originator promoted them, and yet only to insure
the defeat of hia own ambition. After a few brief years, Heury Clay will
be only known to the student of history, who looks beyond existing
monuments for testimonials of the giants of bygone generations. Even
his speeches, stirring as they were on those who heard them — having
no eminence in literature, no body and soul of general truth, reflection,
and phUosophy, and little connection with current politics— will soon
be among the traditions of the past. The fallacy of Mr. Clay's career
lay in this — he created issues, founded schemes, planned systems, as
the ladders of ambition ; the truer plan, even for ambition, is to mak*
truth and duty and principle the polar star of life and action.

788 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
sun is bright, the air clear, and the breath of nature
so sweet and pure as to fill every bosom with a grate
ful joy in the mere consciousness of existence. There
were present long files of soldiers in their holiday
attire ; there were many associations, with their mot-
toed banners ; there were lodges and grand lodges,
in white aprons and blue scarfs ; there were miles of
citizens from the towns and the country round about ;
there were two hundred gray-haired men, remnants
of the days of the Eevolution ; there was among them
a stranger, of great mildness and dignity of appear
ance, on whom all eyes rested, and when his name
was knowij, the air echoed with the cry — " Welcome,
welcome, Lafayette I"* Around all this scene, was a

* I was at this time Master of the Lodge at Hartford, St. Johu's No.
4, and attended this celebration ofBcially as a deputy from the Grand
Lodge of Connecticut. I rcoolleot that when the lodges assembled at
Boston, Gen. Lafayette was among them. I had seen him before in Paris,
at a dinner on Washington's birthday, a. d. 1824, when he first an
nounced his intention of coming to America. I afterward saw him,
both at Washington and Paris. I may mention a single anecdote, Ulus-
trative of his tenderness of heart. While he was at Washington, Mr.
Morse — since so universally known as the inventor of the electric tele
graph — was empi oyed to paint his portrait for the City Hall of New York.
One day, when the people were collecting in the hall of the hotel for
dinner, I saw Mr. Morse apart, in the corner of the room, reading a
letter. I noticed, in a moment, that he was greatly agitated. I went
to him, and asked him the cause. He could not speak ; he put the
letter into my hand, and staggered out of the room. I looked over the
epistle, and saw that it contained the fatal intelligence of tho death of his
wife, at New Haven, whom he had left there, in health, a few days be
fore. He felt it necessary to leave Washington immediately, and go to
his friends, and I agreed to accompany him. It was necessary that
this should be communicated to Lafayette. I went to him and told him
the story. He was very much affected, and went with me to see Mr.
Morse. He took him in his arms and kissed him, and wept over him.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 789
rainbow of beauty such as New England alone can
furnish. X have seen many public festivities and ceremoni
als, but never one, taken all together, of more general
interest than this. Every thing was fortunate : all
were gratified ; but the address was that which
seemed uppermost in all minds and hearts. Mr.
Webster was in the very zenith of his fame and of
his powers. I have looked on many mighty men —
King George, the " first gentleman in England ;"
Sir Astley Cooper, the Apollo of his generation ;
Peele, O'Connell, Palmerston, Lyndhurst — all nature's
noblemen ; I have seen Cuvier, Guizot, Arago,
Lamartine — marked in their persons by the genius
which have carried their names over the world ; I
have seen Clay, and Calhoun, and Pinkney, and
King, and Dwight, and Daggett, who stand as high
examples of personal endowment, in our annals, and
yet not one of these approached Mr. Webster in the
commanding power of their personal presence. There
as if he had been his own ohild. Nothing could be more soothing
than this affectionate sympathy.
In Mr. Webster's discourse, which I have been noticing, there was
a passage addressed to Lafayette, which, I believe, is slightly altered in
the present printed copy. It was told as an anecdote, some years ago,
that he composed the discourse while fishing for cod off Nantasket
Beach. It would seem that as he came to the point of addressing La
fayette, he had a vigorous bite, and from habit, more than attention
to the business in hand, began to haul in. Just as the fish emerged
from the water, Mr. Webster wenton thus — " Fortunate man ! the rep
resentative of two hemispheres — welcome to these shores !" — where
upon the huge fish was safely jerked into the boat. I can not vouch
for the authenticity ofthe story, but I tell it as too good to be lost.

790 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
was a grandeur in his form, an intelligence in his deep
dark eye, a loftiness in his expansive brow, a signifi
cance in his arched lip, altogether beyond those, of
any other human being I ever saw. And these, on
the occasion to which I allude, had their full ex
pression and interpretation.
In general, the oration was serious, full of weighty
thought and deep reflection. Occasionally there
were flashes of fine imagination, and several passages
of deep, overwhelming emotion.* I was near the
speaker, and not only heard every word, but I saw
every movement of his countenance. When he came
to address the few scarred and time-worn veterans —
some forty in number — who had shared in the bloody
scene which all had now gathered to commemorate, he
paused a moment, and, as he uttered the words "Ven
erable men," his voice trembled, and I could see a
cloud pass over the sea of faces that turned upon the
speaker. When at last, alluding to the death of
Warren, he said —
* One incident, which occurred on this occasion, is worth mention
ing. I sat near two old men, farmers I should judge, who remained
with their mouths open from the beginning to the end of the oration.
Not u sentence escaped them. I could see reflected in their counte
nances the whole march of the discourse. When it was over, they rose
up, and having drawn a long breath, one said to the other — " Well, that
was good; every word seemed to weigh a pound!" WhUe Mr. Webster
was in Europe in 1839, I wrote a series of anecdotical sketches of him,
published in the National Intelligencer, and among other things, reci
ted this incident. It found its way t<iEngland, and the London Times,
in describing Mr. Webster's manner in the speech ho made at the Ox
ford Cattle Show, repeated this anecdote as particularly descriptive of
his massive aud weighty eloquence.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 791
" But ah. Him I — 'the first great martyr of this
great cause. Him, the patriotic victim of his own
self-devoting heart. Him, cut off by Providence in
the hour of overwhelming anxiety and thick gloom :
falling ere he saw the star of his country rise — how
shall I struggle with the emotions that stifle the ut
terance of thy name !" Here the eyes of the vet
erans around^ little accustomed to tears, were filled
to the brim, and some of them " sobbed aloud in their
fullness of heart." The orator went on :
" Our poor work may perish, but thine shall en
dure : this monument may molder away, the solid
ground it rests upon may sink down to the level ot
the sea ; but thy memory shall not fail. Wherever
among men a heart shall be found that beats to the
transports of patriotism and liberty, its aspirations
shall claim kindred with thy spirit !"
I have never seen such an effect, from a single pas
sage : a moment before, every bosom bent, every
brow was clouded, every eye was dim. Lifted as
by inspiration, every breast seemed now to expand,
every gaze to turn above, every face to beam with a
holy yet exulting enthusiasm. Tt was the omnipo
tence of eloquence, which, like the agitated sea, car
ries a host upon its waves, sinking and swelling with
its irresistible undulations.
It was some years subsequent to this that I be
came personally acquainted with Mr. Webster. From
1836, to the time of his death, I saw him frequently.

793 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
sometimes in public and sometimes in private. I
have heard some of his great speeches, as well at
Washington as elsewhere, but I must say that his
conversation impressed me quite as strongly as his
public addresses. I once traveled with him from
Washington to Baltimore. During a ride of two
hours, he spoke of a great variety of subjects — agri
culture, horticulture, physical geography, geology —
with a perfectness of knowledge, from the minutest
details to the highest philosophy, which amazed me.
One thing I particularly remarked, he had no half
conceptions, no uncertain knowledge. What he knew,
he was sure of. His recollection seemed absolutely
perfect. His mind grasped the smallest as well as
the greatest things. He spoke of experiments he
had made at Marshfield in protecting trees, recently
planted, by interposing boards between them and the
prevailing winds, observing that these grew nearly
twice as rapidly as those which were exposed to the
full sweep of the blasts. He spoke of the recent
discoveries of geology — which had converted the
rocky lamina of the earth, hidden from the begin
ning, into leaves of a book, in which we could trace
the footprints of the Creator — with perfect knowl
edge of the subject, and a full appreciation of the
sublimity of its revelations.
At Baltimore, while sitting at table after tea, the
conversation continued, taking in a great variety ot
eubjects. One of the ladies of our company asked

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 793
Mr. Webster if he chose Marshfield for a residence
because it was near the sea.
" Yes, madam," was the reply.
" And do you love the seashore ?"
" Yes, I love it, yet not perhaps as others do. I
can not pick up shells and pebbles along the shore.
I can never forget the presence of the sea. It seems
to speak to me, and beckon to me. When I see the
surf come rolling in, like a horse foaming fi-om the
battle, I can not stoop down and pick up pebbles.
The sea unquestionably presents more grand and
exciting pictures and conceptions to the mind, than
any other portion of the earth, partly because it is
always new to us, and partly, too, because of the
majestic movement of its great mass of waters. The
mystery of its depths, the history of its devastations,
crowd the mind with lofty images.
" ' The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,
And monarchs tremble in their capitals —
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee and arbiter of war :
These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake,
They melt into the yeast of waves, which mar
Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
" ' Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests : in all time,
Oalm or convulsed — ^in breeze or gale or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime.

ij'94 LETTEES — BIOGKAPHICAL,
Dark-heaving : boundless, endless, and sublime —
The image of Eternity — the throne
Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made : each zone
Obeys thee ¦ thou goest forth dread, fathomless, alone !'
I know of few descriptions of nature equal in sub
limity to that."
It is impossible to give any impression of the effect
of this passage, recited in low, solemn tones like the
bass of an organ, the brow of the speaker seeming to
reflect the very scenes it described.
Yet Mr. Webster was not always serious. In the
circle of intimate friends he was generally cheerful
and sometimes playful, not only relishing wit and
repartee, but contributing to it his proper share. I
have heard of one occasion in which he kept a full
table in a roar for half an hour with his sallies.
Many years ago there was a contested election in
Mississippi — the seats of two sitting members being
claimed by a Mr. Word and the famous orator, S. S.
Prentiss.* The two claimants came to Washington,

* S. S. Prentiss was a native of Maine, but removed to Mississippi,
where he soon distinguished himself as a brilliant orator. In the Har
rison Campaign of 1840, " he took the stump," and made a series of most
effective speeches, crowds gathering from many miles around, to hear
him. One day he met with a caravan of wild bca-sts, and it was suggested
that he should speak from the top of one of the wagons. He mounted
that of the hyenas, and as he was lame, and carried a strong cane, occa
sionally he poked this through a hole in the top and stirred up the hyenas
within. Prentiss had scathing powers of denunciation, and he waa
unsparing in his sarcasms upon the administration of Jackson and his
»ucces.«or Van Buren, which, as he insisted, had caused the ruin theu

795
and argued their case before the House, but it was
dismissed, and they were sent back for a new elec
tion. Prentiss, however, had sustained himself with
so much ability, that before his departure a few of
his whig friends concluded to give him a dinner.
This was private, though some thirty persons Avere
present. Late in the evening, when all were warmed
with the cheer, Preston, of South Carolina, rose and
proposed this sentiment :
" Daniel Webster — a Northern man with Southern
principles I"
Mr. Webster, after a moment's hesitation, said :
" Mr. Chairman, I rise in obedience to the flattering
call of my good friend fi:om South Carolina : Daniel
Webster — a Northern man with Southern principles I
Well, sir, I was born in New Hampshire, and there
fore I am a northern man. There is no doubt of that.
And if what the people say- of us be true, it is
equally certain that I am a man of southern princi
ples. Sir, do I ever leave a heel-tap in my glass ?
Do I ever pay my debts? Don't I always prefer
desolating the country ; but when to his blasting sentences were added
the bowlings of the hyenas, judiciously put in at the climaxes, it waa
something more than words — it was " action, action, action !"
I remember once to have heard this famous orator, the same "season,
at a whig meeting in FaneuU Hall, Edward Everett presiding. I hardly
knew which most to admire — thc polished elegance, spiced with grace
ful and pertinent wit, of Everett, or the dashing splendor of Prentiss.
The one seemed like the fountain of Velino playing amid Grecian sculp
ture ; the other, a cataract of the Far West, fed from inexhaustible
fountains, and lighting whole forests with its crystals and its foam.
Mr. Prentiss died in 1S50, greatly lamented, at the early ago of foi-ty,
18*

796 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
challenging a man who won't fight?" And thus he
went on in a manner more suitable to the occasion
than to these pages — until at last, amid roars of laugh
ter and shouts of applause, he sat down.
The countenance of Mr. Webster was generally
solemn, and even severe, especially when he was ab
sorbed in thought : yet when relaxed with agreeable
emotions, it was irresistibly winning. I have heard
an anecdote which furnishes a pleasing illustration of
this. At the time Mr. Wirt was Attorney-general,
Mr. Webster, having some business with him, went
to his office. Mr. Wirt was engaged for a few mo
ments at his desk, and asked Mr. Webster to sit down
a short time, when he would come to him. Mr. Web
ster did as requested, and for some moments sat look
ing moodily into the fire. At length one of Mr.
Wirt's children — a girl of six or eight years old-
came in, and thinking it was her father, went to Mr.
Webster, and putting her elbows on his knee, looked
up in his face. In an instant she started back,
shocked at her mistake, and appalled by the dark,
moody countenance before her. At the same mo
ment Mr. Webster became aware of her presence.
His whole face changed in an instant : a smile came
over his face ; he put out his hand, and all was so
winning, that the child, after hesitating a moment,
also smiled, and went back and resumed her confiding
position, as if it had indeed been her father.
That Mr. Webster had his faults, we all know ;

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 797
but the general soundness of his heart and character,
as well as the soundness of his intellect, are demon
strated by his works. These are an indestructible
monument, attesting alike his greatness and his good
ness. Among all these volumes, so full of thought,
so pregnant with instruction, so abounding in knowl
edge, there is not an impure suggestion, not a mean
sentiment, not a malicious sentence. All is patriotic,
virtuous, ennobling. And the truths he thus uttered
— how are they beautified, adorned, and commended
by the purity of the style and the elegance of the dic
tion ! In this respect there is a remarkable difference
between him and his great rivals. Clay and Calhoun.
Mr. Webster's works abound in passages which convey
beautiful sentiments in beautiful language* — gems of
* It would be easy to flll volumes with passages of this sort : the
following, taken at random from Mr. Webster's published works, will
iUustrate what I have said :
" Justice, sir, is the great interest of man on earth. It is the liga
ment which holds civilized beings and civilized nations together. Where
her temple stands, and so long as it is duly honored, there is a founda
tion for social security, general happiness, and the improvement and
progress of our race."
" One may live as a conqueror, a king, or a magistrate, but he must
die as a man. The bed of death brings every human being to his pure
individuality ; to the intense contemplation of that deepest and most
solemn of all relations, the relation between tlie Creator and the cre
ated." " Eeal goodness does not attach itself merely to this life ; it points
to another world."
" Eeligion is the tie that connects man with his Creator, and holds
him to his throne. If that tie be all sundered, all broken, he floats
away, a worthless atom in the universe — its proper attractions all gone,
its destiny thwarted, and ita whole future notliing but darkness, des
olation, and death."
Speaking at Valley Forge of the sufferings of the American army

798 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
thought set in golden sentences, fitting them to be
come the adornments of gifted and tasteful minds,
for all future time. With these other orators it is
not so : there is an earnest, direct, vigorous logic in
Calhoun, which, however, can spare not a sentence
to any subsidiary thought ; there is a warm, glowing,
hearty current of persuasion in Clay, yet he is too
ardent in the pursuit of his main design, to pause for
there, under Washington, in the winter of 1777-8, he described them
as " destitute of clothing, destitute of provisions, destitute of every
thing but their faith in God and their immortal leader."
" The slightest glance must convince us that mechanical power and
mechanical skill, as they are now exhibited in Europe and America,
mark an epoch in human history worthy of aU admiration. Machinery
is made to perform what has formerly been the toil of human hands,
to an extent that astonishes the most sanguine, with a degree of power
to which no number of human arms is equal, and with such precision
and exactness as almost to suggest the notion of reason and intelligence
in the machines theniselves. Every natural agent ia put unrelentingly
to the task. The winds work, the waters work, the elasticity of metals
works ; gravity is solicited into a thousand new forms of action ; levers
are multiplied upon levers ; wheels revolve on the peripheries of other
wheels ; the saw and the plane are tortured into an accommodation to
new uses, and last of all, with inimitable power, and ' with whirlwind
Bound,' comes the potent agency of steam."
" Steam is found in triumphant operation on the seas ; and under the
influence of its strong propulsion, the gaUant ship,
' Against the wind, against the tide,
Still steadies witii an upright keel.'
It ia on the rivers, and the boatman may repose on his oars ; it is ou
highways, and begins to exert itself along the courses of land convey
ance ; it is at the bottom of mines, a thousand feet below the earth's
surface ; it is iu the inill, aud in the workshops of the trades. It rows,
it pumps, it excavates, it carries, it draws, it lifts, it hammers, it spins,
it weaves, it prints."
" Whether it be consciousness, or the result of his reasoning facul
ties, man soon learns. that he must die. And of all sentient beings, he
alone, as far as we can judge, attains to this knowledge. His Maker
has made him capable of learning this. Before ho knows his origin

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 799
a moment to gather or scatter flowers by the wayside.
In all the works of these two great men, it is not
easy to select a page which may challenge admiration
on account of its artistic beauty, or because it en
shrines general truth and philosophy, so happily
expressed as to enforce them upon the worship of the
heart. Of Mr. Webster's magnanimity, there are abundant
and destiny, he knows that he is to die. Then comes that most urgent
and solemn demand for light that ever proceeded, or can proceed, from
the profound and anxious broodinga of the human soul. It is stated,
with wonderful force and beauty, in that incomparable composition, the
book of Job : ' For there is hope ofa tree, if it be cut down, that it will
sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease ; that,
through the scent of water, it wUl bud, and bring forth boughs like a
plant. Butif a man die, shall he live again f And that question noth
ing but God, and the religion of God, can solve. Eeligion does solve it,
and teaches every man that he is to live again, aud that the duties of
this life have reference to the life which is to come. And hence, since
the introduction of Christianity, it has been the duty, as it has been
the effort, of the great and the good, to sanctify human knowledge, to
bring it to the fount, and to baptize learning into Christianity ; to gath-
.er up all its productions, its earliest and its latest, its blossoms and its
fruits, and lay them all upon the altar of religion and virtue."
" I shall enter on uo encomium upon Massachusetts ; she needs none.
There she is. Behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her his
tory ; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There
is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill ; and there
they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, falling iu the great
struggle for Independence, now lie mingled with the soU of every State,
from New England to Georgia; and there they will lie forever. And,
sir, where American Liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth
was nurtured and sustained, there it stiU lives, in the strength of its
manhood and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shaU
wound it,. if party strife and blind ambition shaU hawk at and tear it,
if folly and madness, if uneasiness under salutary and necessary re
straint, shall succeed in separating it from that Union by which alone
its existence is made sure, it wiU stand, in the end, by the side of that
cradle in which its infancy was rocked ; it will stretch forth its arm, with
whatever of vigor it may stiU retain, over the friends who gather round

800 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
evidences. His whole course in the House as well as in
the Senate evinced it. He never displayed, because he
never felt that littleness of soul, which signalizes itself
in envy, and malice, and uncharitableness. Nothing
can be finer than the uniform dignity of his con
duct through a congressional period of more than
twenty years. But there are two instances of his
greatness of soul, which have appeared to me re
markable, and especially worthy of being recorded,
because they refer to those individuals. Clay and Cal
houn, who of all others he might have been sup
posed to regard with feelings of aversion, if not of
hostility. It is well remembered by all those who are con
versant with the history of the times, that Mr. Web
ster, then acting as Secretary of State in the Tyler
Cabinet, thought fit to continue in his place, when the

jt ; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amid the proudest monuments
of its own glory, and on the very apot of its origin."
It is known that some of these fine passages were suddenly struck
out in the heat of debate ; others no doubt were polished and perfected
with eare. On a certain occasion, Mr. Webster startled the Senate by
a beautiful and striking remark in relation to the extent of tbe British
empire, aa follows ; " She has dotted the surface of the whole globe with
her possessions and military posts, whose morning drum-beat, follow
ing thc sun and keeping company with the hours, circle the earth daily
with one continuous and unbroken strain ofthe martial airs of England."
On going ont of the Sen.ite, one of the members complimented Mr.
Webster upon this, saying that be was all the more struck with it as it
was evidently impromptu. " You are mistaken," said Mr. Webster
" the idea occurred to ine when I was on the ramparts of Quebec, some
months since. I wrote it down, and re-wrote it, and after several trials,
got it to suit me, and laid it by for use. The time came to-day, and sa
I put it in."

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 801
other members resigned. This conduct drew upon
him attacks from various quarters, and especially
from those who were known to take counsel of Mr.
Clay. It was manifest, as well from the bitterness as
the persistence of the onslatight, that the purpose was
to effect Mr. Webster's destruction as a public man.
This object was not accomplished, for it soon ap
peared to the world that he had been governed by
the highest motives of patriotism, in the course he
had adopted, and that he had indeed made it the
means of accomplishing a great national benefit — the
settling of the irritating and threatening question of
the " Maine boundary." In fact, Mr. Webster rather
gained than lost in the confidence of men whose opin
ions are of value, in spite of this conspiracy which
sought to overwhelm him.
In tho spring of 1844, Mr. Clay, having been on
a trip to the South, came to Washington. He was
already indicated by public opinion as the whig can
didate for the presidency, and it seemed highly prob
able that the time had now come for the realization
of his known and cherished aspirations, in respect to
that high position. He was himself sanguine of suc
cess. On the 1st of May he was nominated at Bal
timore, by a whig convention, for the office in ques
tion, and the next day there was to be a grand rally
of young men, to ratify the nomination. It was sug
gested to Mr. Clay that it was eminently desirable
that Mr. Webster should add his influence in behalf

802 LErrEES— BIOGEAPHICAL,
of the nomination ; but he is said to have feit that
he neither needed nor desired it. His friends, however,
thought otherwise, and a message was dispatched to
Mr. Webster, begging him to come on to the conven
tion, already gathering at , Baltimore. This reached
him while he was dining at the Astor House, in New
York. He immediately left the table, and after a
brief communion with himself, departed, and arrived
in time to join his voice in a powerful speech, to the
enthusiasm of the occasion.
A very short period after this, the clouds began
to thicken in the political horizon. Mr. Polk had
been nominated, and the important State of Penn
sylvania was seen to be in danger of giving him her
vote. In this emergency, Mr. Webster was besought
to go there and address the people at Philadelphia,
and in the mining districts, where large masses were
congregated. Perfectly well knowing Mr. Clay's
sentiments and conduct toward him, he still went,
and made a series of addresses, among the most elo
quent that he ever uttered. In the course of these,
he had occasion to speak of Mr. Clay. It was a
delicate task, therefore, to do justice to his position,
as an advocate of Mr. Clay's candidacy, while at the
same time Mr. Clay's treatment of him was fresh in
the public mind. Yet with a tact, which does infi
nite credit to his good taste, and a magnanimity which
equally honors his heart, he spoke of Mr. Clay in the
following words :

803
" There are two candidates in the field, Mr. Clay of Kentucky,
and Mr. Polk of Tennessee. I shall speak of them both with
the respect to which their character and position entitle them ;
and at the same time with that freedom and candor which
ought to be observed in discussing the merits of public men,
. especially those who are candidates for the highest offioe in the
gift of the people.
" Mr. Clay has been before the country for a long period,
nearly forty years. Over thirty years he has taken a leading
and highly important part in the public affairs of this country.
He is acknowledged to be a man of singular and almost univer
sal talent. He has had great experience in the administration
of our public affairs in various departments. He has served
for many years with wonderful judgment and ability, in both
houses of Congress, of one of which he performed the arduous
and difficult duties of its presidiijg officer, with unexampled skill
and success. He has rendered most important services to his
country of a diplomatic character, as the representative of this
government in Europe, at one of the most trying periods of our
history, and ably assisted to conduct to a satisfactory conclusion
a very delicate and important negotiation. He has performed
the duties of the department of State with ability and fidelity.
He is a man of frankness and honor, of unquestioned talent and
ability, and of a noble and generous bearing.
" Mr. Polk is a much younger man than Mr. Clay. He is a
very respectable gentleman in private life ; he has been in Con
gress ; was once Speaker of the House of Eepresentatives of the
United States, and once Governor of the State of Tennessee."
We may not only refer to this passage as evidence
of Mr. Webster's magnanimity of soul, but as a high
example of gentlemanly dignity — in the very heat of
an animated party discussion, not forgetting to render
justice even to an adversary.

804: LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
In respect to Mr. Calhoun, Mr. Webster displayed
similar elevation of mind. It is matter of history
that, in the earlier periods of their congressional life,
these two men were drawn together by mutual ad
miration. But party exigences have no respect for
private feelings, and accordingly Mr. Calhoun joined
the conspiracy, which, in 1832, was formed to crush
Mr. Webster ; a measure which it was hoped to accom
plish through the eloquence of Mr. Hayne, assisted
by the united talent of the democratic party, at that
time powerfully represented in the Senate. That he
escaped, was owing to his own matchless abilities* —
for there is hardly an instance on record in which a
man, single-handed, has withstood and baffled and
punished so formidable a combination. For several
years immediately following, Mr. Webster was called
into an almost perpetual conflict with Mr. Calhoun —
from this point his stern, unflinching adversary. By
general consent, others stood aloof, almost in awe
of the conflict between these two champions. The
struggle furnishes some of the most remarkable pas
sages in our political history. But an event at last
* The "great debate" here alluded to, took place in the Senate, in
January, 1830. Colonel Hayne had attacked Mr. Webster with great
power, fortified as he was by facts, arguments, and suggestions, fur
nished by democratic members from aU parts of the Union, and going
over Mr. Webster's whole political life. The reply was triumphant and
overwhelming, and is justly considered the greatest forensic effort which
our history suppUes. There is, indeed, so far aa I know, no speech
which equals it, if we regard the variety of its topics, the vast scope
of its leading considerations, the beauty and felicity of many of its pas
sages, and its completeness as a whole.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 805
arrived which was to put an end to the strife. Mr.
Calhoun, who had gradually been sinking under a
decay of health and constitution, expired at Washing
ton on the 31st of March, 1850. It was then that
Mr. Webster rose in the Senate and pronounced upon
him a eulogium, in which all his merits were beauti
fully set forth, without one of the many shadows
which truth might have furnished.
" Sir," said Mr.- Webster, " the eloquence of Mr. Calhoun, or
the manner of his exhibition of his sentiments in public bodies,
was part of his intellectual character. It grew ont of the quali
ties of his mind. It was plain, strong, terse, condensed, concise ;
sometimes impassioned, still always severe. Rejecting ornament,
not often seeking far for illustration, his power consisted in the
plainness of his propositions, in the closeness of his logic, and in
the earnestness and energy of his manner. These are the qual
ities, as I think, which have enabled him through such a long
course of years to speak often, and yet always command atten
tion. His demeanor as a Senator is known to us all — is appre
ciated, venerated by us all. No man was more respectful to
others ; no man carried himself with greater decorum, no man
with superior dignity.
" Sir, I have not in p.ublio or in private life known a more
assiduous person in the discharge of his appropriate duties. He
seemed to have no recreation but the pleasure of conversation
with his friends. Qut of the chambers of Congress, he was
either devoting himself to the acquisition of knowledge pertain
ing to the immediate subject of the duty before him, or else he
was indulging in some social interviews in which he so much
delighted. His colloquial talents were certainly singular and
eminent. There was a charm in his conversation not often
found. He delighted especially in conversation ahd intercourse
with young men. I suppose that there has been no man among

806 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
US who had more winning manners, in such an intercourse and
such conversation, with men comparatively young, than Mr.
Calhoun. I believe one great power of Ms character, in general,
was his conversational talent. I believe it is that, as well as a
consciousness of his high integrity, and the greatest reverence
for his talents and ability, that has made him so endeared an
object to the people of the State to which he belonged.
" Mr. President, he had tbe basis, the indispensable basis, of
all high character — and that was, unspotted integrity, unim-
peaohed honor and character. If he had aspirations, they^ -were.
high, and honorable, and noble. There was nothing groveling,
or low, or meanly selfish, that came near the head or the heart
of Mr. Calhoun. Firm in his purpose, perfectly patriotic and
honest, as I am sure he was, in the principles that he espoused
and in the measures that he defended, aside from that large re
gard for that species of distinction that conducted him to emi
nent stations for the benefit of the Republic, I do not believe he
had a selfish motive or selfish feeling. However, sir, he may
have differed from others of us in his political opinions or his
political principles, those principles and those opinions wiU now
descend to posterity under the sanction of a great name. He
has lived long enough, he has done enough, and he has done it
so well, so successfully, so honorably, as to connect himself for
all time with the records of his country. He is now an historical
character. Those of us who have known him here will find that
he has left upon our minds and our hearts a strong and lasting
impression of his person, his character, and his public perform
ances, which while we live will never be obliterated. We shall
hereafter, I am sure, indulge in it as a grateful recollection, that
we have lived in his age, that we have been his contemporaries,
that we have seen liim, and heard him, and known him. We
shall delight to speak of him to those who are rising up to fill
onr places. And, when the time shall come that we ourselves
shaU go, one after another, to our graves, we shall carry with us
a deep sense of his genius and character, his honor and integrity.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 807
his amiable deportment in private life, and the purity of his
exalted patriotism."
Was there not something grand and at the same
time affecting in a scene like this — a great man — all
selfish thought rebuked, all passed bitterness forgot
—uttering words like these, over the now prostrate
competitor with whom it had been his lot to wrestle
through long years of the bitterest party conflict ?
But I must draw this chapter to a close ; yet my
memory is, indeed, full of the images of other men
of mark whom I have seen upon the great stage of
action at Washington. Among them was William
Wirt, an able lawyer, an elegant writer, an accom
plished gentleman — and, at the time I knew him,
Attorney-general of the United States ; Mr. Forsyth,
Gen. Jackson's accomplished Secretary of State, at
whose house I remember once to have dined when
Mr. Benton, Isaac Hill, John M. Niles,* and others
* John M. NUes was a native of Windsor, Connecticut. He studied
law, and settled at Hartford, devoting himself, however, to politics.
He was of small, awkward, and insignificant personal appearance, and
for this reason, probably, was for many years treated and regarded with
some degree of contempt, especially by the federalists, to whom he was
politically opposed. I knew him well, and eariy learned to appreciate
the logical force of his understanding. He waa associated in the Times
newspaper, and was probably, more than any other single person, the
instrument of overturning the federal party in the State, in 1817. He
now rose to various eminent pubUc stations, at last becoming a Senator
ofthe United States, and for a short time Postmaster-general under Mr.
Polk. He had strong common sense, and close reasoning powers, which
operated with the precision of cog-wheels. Mr. Webster regarded hia
speech upon the tariff, while he was in the Senate, as oue of the very
ablest ever delivered upon that subject.
I must give a sketch of a scene in Mr. Forsyth's parlor, on the oocasioa

808 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
were present; "John Taylor of Caroline," an able Vir
ginian statesman, and the very personification of old-
fashioned dignity and courtesy ; Albert Gallatin, a
dark, swarthy man, with an eye that seemed to pene
trate the souls of all who approached him ; Henry E.
Storrs,* a native of Connecticut, but a representative
from New York — one of the ablest debaters of his
day ; Hayne of South Carolina, the gallant but unsuc
cessful jouster with Mr. Webster ; Burgess of Ehode
above alluded to, as it presents a tableaux of three marked men. The
dinner had been finished for some time, but several of the gentlemen
lingered at the table. The ladies had retired, and made a considerable
semicircle around the fire in the parlor. Mr. Forsyth was in tbe middle
of this room, receiving the gentlemen as they came from the dining-
hall, and who, after a little conversation with him, bowed to the ladies
and took their leave.
At last Messrs. Benton, Hill, and NUes came from the dining-room
together, and stopped to converse with Mr. Forsyth. Mr. Hill, who was
very lame, said good-night to his host and went straight to the door,
without taking the sUghtest notice of the bright circle around the fire
side. Benton came next; but he is an old courtier, and therefore paid
his addresses to the ladies, beginning with Mrs. Meigs — Mrs. Forsyth's
mother — and bowing gracefully to each, was about to take hia leave.
Niles came next. His first idea evidently was to follow the example of
Isaac HiU, but as Benton was actuaUy performing his courtesies, he felt
it impossible wholly to disregard such a pattern. Setting ont first for
the door, he soondiverged toward the fireside; when near thc ladies,
he was suddenly seized with panic, and pulling out a red bandanna
handkerchief from hia pocket, gave a loud blast upon his nose, shot out
ofthe door, and thus safely effected his retreat.
Mr. Niles died at Hartford in 1856, aged sixty-nine.
* Mr. Storrs was a native of Middletown, Connecticut, and brother of
the present Judge Storrs of that State. He was educated at Yale, and
was there considered a dull scholar, yet he eariy became eminent as a
lawyer and a statesman. He flrst settled at Utica, but afterward re
moved to the city of New York, where he died in 1887, aged forty-nine.
He was distinguished for various acquirements, great powers of dis
crimination, remarkable logical exactness, and a ready and powerful
elocution.

809
Island — a man of prodigious powers of sarcasm, and
who made even John Eandolph quail ; Silas Wright
of New York, ever courteous, ever smiling — a giant
in strength, conquering his antagonists with such an
air of good-humor as to reconcile them to defeat :
these, and still others among the departed, live in my
memory, and were there time and occasion, would
furnish interesting themes of description and com
ment. Of those among the living — Crittenden, noted
for his close argument and polished sarcasm ; Benton
of Missouri, who has fought his way through many
prejudices, till he has attained the reputation of un
rivaled industry, vast acquisitions, and an enlarged
statesmanship; Bell of Tennessee, always dignified
and commanding respect — these linger in my memory
as connected with the senate-chamber, where indeed
their chief laurels have been won. In the other house,
I have often seen and heard Winthrop, Cushing, Wise,
T. Marshall — all brilliant orators, and accustomed to
" bring down the House," when the spirit moved.
In the White House, I have seen Monroe and Ad
ams, and Jackson and Van Buren, and Harrison and
Tyler, and Taylor and Fillmore. How many memo
ries rise up at the mention of these names — associated
as they are in my mind with the brilliant throngs I
have seen at their levees, or with the public events
connected with their names, or the whirlpools of
party strife which I have seen fretting and foaming
at the periods of their election I

810 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
But I must forbear. A single domestic event
claims to be recorded here, and I shall then take
leave of Washington. I have told you that I had
come hither with my family. Among them was one
to whom existence had hitherto been only a bright,
unbroken spring. Gifted, beautiful, healthful, happy
— loving all and loved by all — he never suggested by
his appearance, an idea but of life, and enjoyment,
and- success, and prosperity. Yet he was suddenly
taken from us. We mourned, though remembrances
were mingled with our grief which softened, if they
could not wholly remove it.

811

LETTER LVI.
London and Paris compa/red — Paris thirty years ago — Louis XVIII. — ¦
Tlu, Parisians — Garden of the Tuileries — Washington Irving — Mr.
Warden, the American Consul — Sociite Philomatique — Baron Larrey
— Geoffroy St. Hilaire — Tlie Institute — Arago — Lamarck — Gay-Lussac
— Cuvier — Lacroix — Laplace — Laennec — Dupuytren — Talma — Made
moiselle Mars.
Mt dbae 0 ***** *
About the middle of April, 1851, I arrived in
Paris, and soon after took charge of the Consulate
there. As you know, I have frequently been in this
gay city, and I now propose to gather up my recol
lections of it, and select therefrom a few items which
may fill up the blank that yet remains in my story,
and in some degree contribute to your amusement.
I first visited Paris in January, 1824, as I have told
you. I had spent a month in London, which is always
a rather gloomy place to a stranger, and in winter is
peculiarly depressing. The people who have houses
there, burrow into them, and lighting their coal fires,
make themselves happy ; but the wanderer from his
country, shut out from these cheerful scenes, and
forced into the streets, grimed with dirt and drizzle
below and incumbered with bituminous fogs above,
feels that he is in a dreary wilderness, where man
and nature conspire to make him miserable and
melancholy. In most great cities, there is something

813 LETTEES — ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
to cheer the new-comer : it is precisely the reverse
with London, and particularly at this dismal season.
Its finest streets, its most sumptuous squares, even
its noble monuments, which are not few, have al
ways a rather dull aspect, and in the pitchy atmo
sphere of winter, they seem to be in mourning, and
communicate their gloom to all around. St. Paul's,
incrusted with soot and dripping with an inky de
posit from the persistent fogs ; Nelson's monument,
black with coal-smoke, and clammy with the chill
death-damp of the season, — all these things — the very
ornaments and glories of the city — are positively
depressing, and especially to an American, accus
tomed to the transparent skies, the white snow-drifts,
the bracing, cheering atmosphere of his own winter
climate. Paris is the very opposite of London. The latter
is an ordinary city, impressed by no distinctive char
acteristics, except its gloom and its vast extent. It is
little more than twenty Liverpools, crowded together,
and forming the most populous city in the world.
Paris, on the contrary, is marked with prominent and
peculiar traits, noticed at once by the most careless ob
server. On entering the streets, you are struck with
the air of ornament and decoration which belongs
to the architecture, the effect of which is heightened
by the light color of the freestone, the universal
building material. The sky is bright, and the peo.-
ple seem to reflect its cheerfulness. The public gar-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 813
dens and squares, surrounded with monuments of art
and teeming with men, women, and children, inclu
ding abundance of rosy nurses and plump babies, all
apparently bent on pleasure, and this, too, in mid
winter — are peculiar and striking features of this gay
metropolis. To an American who has just left Lon
don, his heart heavy with hypochondria, Paris is in
deed delightful, and soon restores him to his wonted
cheerfulness. At the time I first arrived here, this city was, how
ever, very different from what it now is. Louis
XVIII. was upon the throne, and had occupied it for
nine years. During this period he had done almost
nothing to repair the state of waste and dilapidation
in which the allies had left it. These had taken down
the statue of Napoleon on the column of the Place
Vendome, and left its pedestal vacant ; the king had
followed up the reform and erased the offensive name
of the exiled emperor from the public monuments,
and put his own, Louis XVIIL, in their place ; he had
caused a few churches to be repaired, and some pic
tures of the Virgin to be painted and placed in their
niches. But ghastly mounds of rubbish — the wrecks
of demolished edifices — scattered heaps of stones at
the foot of half-built walls of buildings, destined
never to be completed, — these and other unsightly
objects were visible on every hand, marking the re
cent history of Napoleon, overthrown in the midst
of his mighty projects, and leaving his name and his

814 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
works to be desecrated alike by a foreign foe and a
more bitter domestic adversary.
The king, Louis XVIIL, was a man of good sense
and liberal mind, for one of his race ; but he was
wholly unfit to administer the government. He was
a sort of monster of obesity, and, at the time I speak
of, having lost the use of his lower limbs, he could
not walk, and was trundled about the palace of the
Tuileries in a cripple's go-cart. I have often seen
him let down in this, through the arch in the south
eastern angle of the palace, into his coach, and re
turning from his ride, again taken up, and all this
more like a helpless barrel of beef than a sovereign.
Had the allies intended to make legitimacy at once
odious and ridiculous, they could not better have
contrived it than by squatting down this obese, im
becile extinguisher upon the throne of France, as the
successor of Napoleon !
The Parisians are, however, a philosophic race : as
they could not help themselves, they did not spend
their lives like children, in profitless poutings. They
had their jokes, and among these, they were accus
tomed to call Louis Dix-huit, Louis des huitres — a tol
erable pun, which was equivalent to giving him the
familiar title of Old Oyster Louis. Deeming it their
birthright to have three or four hours of pleasure
every day — whoever may be in power— they still fre
quented the promenades, the Boulevards, and the
theaters. When, therefore, I first visited the gardens

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 815
of the Tuileries of a bright Sunday afternoon, and im
mediately after quitting the " dull fuliginous abyss"
of London, the scene seemed to me like enchant
ment. I find my impressions thus chronicled in my
notes :
" Weather fine, bright, and mild ; some shrubs still
green, and many flowers yet in bloom ; jets of fount
ains playing in the sunshine ; too early in the day for
a great throng, yet a great many people here ; ail have
a quiet, sauntering look; hundreds of tidy nurses,
with bare arms and neat caps on their heads, the
children they carry about being richly dressed, their
little rosy cheeks imbedded in lace ; the ladies taste
fully attired, and walking with a peculiar air of grace
— very sentimental and modest in their countenances
— never look at you, as they do in London ; very
provoking. There is no Sunday air in the scene,
but rather that of a calm pleasure-day ; children are
rolling hoops ; one boy making a dirt pie ; two dogs,
which have probably been shut up for a week, hav
ing a glorious scamper ; wild-pigeons cooing above in
the tree-tops ; sparrows hopping about on the green
sod at the foot of the statues of Flora and Diana,
and picking up crumbs of bread thrown to them by
the children ; a number of old men in the sunshine,
sheltered by a northern wall, reading newspapers ;
several nurses there, sunning their babies ; palace of
the Tuileries of an architecture never seen in America,
but still imposing ; the Kue de Eivoli on the north,

816 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
superb ; the Place Louis Quinze,* fine ; the mint and
other edifices along the opposite bank of the Seine,
beautiful. Wonderful place, this Paris; different
from any thing I have seen. It seems devised, in
its sky, its edifices, its decorations, its ornaments,
for a tasteful and pleasure-loving people. Even I, a
wanderer, feel no sense of solitude, of isolation, here.
London is repulsive, and seems continually to frown
upon the stranger as an outcast ; Paris smiles upon
him and welcomes him, and makes him feel at home.
The genial spirit of the French nation speaks in this,
its capital : just as the temper and spirit of John Bull
seem to be built into the brick and mortar of the
streets of London."
I can not, perhaps, do better than to give you a
few more passages from the hasty jottings I made at
the time.
" February 6 — Washington Irving returned our
call. Strikingly mild and amiable ; dress — claret
coat, rather more pigeon-tailed than the fashion at
New York ; light waistcoat ; tights ; ribbed, flesh-
colored silk stockings ; shoes, polished very bright.
This a fashionable dress here. He spoke of many

* This is now the Place de la Concorde, and is one of the most beau-
iful squares in the world. In the center is the famous obelisk of Lux-
n : from this point four superb works of architecture are seen at tbe
ibur cardinal points — to the west, through the avenue of the Champa
filisdes, is the Arc de Triomphe de I'Etoile ; to the north, the Church of
the Madeleine ; to the east, the Palace ofthe TuUeries ; to the south, the
Chamber of Deputies.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 817
things, all in a quiet manner, evidently with a fund
of feeling beneath.
" February 14 — Went with Mr. Warden* to a meet
ing of the ' Societe Philomatique,' composed of niem-
bers of the Institute ; saw Fourier, the famous geo
metrician and physician ; he accompanied Napoleon
to Egypt ; wears a great brown wig ; a dull, clumsy
speaker : Thenard, a famous chemist, associated with
Gay-Lussac ; looks about forty : Larrey ; has long
black hair parted on the forehead, with an air of
gravity and solidity, mingled with simplicity ; spoke
slowly, but with great clearness. Bonaparte said he
was the most honest man he ever knew. He ac
companied the expedition to Egypt; is still a dis
tinguished surgeon, and in full practice. Poisson,
one of the first mathematicians in Europe ; he has a
very fine head and splendid eye — seems about forty-
eight : Geoffroy St. Hilaire, a zoologist, second only
to Cuvier ; a bustling, smiling man, of very demon
strative manner ; he had two huge fish-bones, which
he used for the purpose of illustrating his observa
tions. He was also in the Egyptian expedition, and
contributed largely to its scientific results. He seem
ed about forty-eight, and was listened to with great
* Mr. David Bailie Warden, who had been Secretary of Legation when
Gen. Armstrong was Minister to PloUand, was at this time Consul of the
United States at Paris. He was a native of Ireland, but had become an
American citizen. He was a corresponding member of the Institute,
aud was a man of considerable scientific and literary acquirements. He
wrote a clever History of the United States. He died at Paria in 1845,
aged 67.

818 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
attention. Bosc, a celebrated agriculturist, botanist,
&c., old, respectable, gentlemanly.
" The proceedings were conducted with order and
simplicity, forming a striking contrast to the pomp
ous declamation I heard in London, in the Academy
of Arts, upon hatching eggs.
" February 16— Went with Mr. Warden to a meet
ing of the Institute, held in the Hotel Mazarin : one
hundred and fifty members present. Arago, presi
dent ; he is tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing in
appearance, with a dark, swarthy complexion, and a
black, piercing eye. Lamarck, the famous writer on
natural history — old, infirm, blind — was led in by
another member — a distinguished entomologist, whose
name I have forgotten ; Fontaine, the architect — tall,
homely, and aged : Gay-Lussac, a renowned chemist,
under forty, active, fiery in debate : Cuvier, rather a
large man, red face, eyes small, very near-sighted ;
eyes near together and oddly appearing and dis
appearing ; features acute, hair gray, long, and care
less ; he spoke several times, and with great perti
nency and effect: Lacroix, the mathematician, old,
and looks like a '76er : Laplace, the most famous
living astronomer, tali, thin, and sharp-featured — re
minded me of the portraits of Voltaire ; he is about
seventy -five, feeble, yet has all his mental faculties.
" The principal discussion related to gasometers,
the police of Paris having asked the opinion of the
Institute as to the safety of certain new kinds, lately

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 819
introduced. The subject excited great interest, and
the debate was quite animated. Th6nard, Gay-Lus
sac, Girard, Laplace, Cuvier, and others, engaged in
the debate. Nearly all expressed themselves with
great ease and even volubility. They were occasion
ally vehement, and when excited, several spoke at
once, and the president was obliged often to ring his
bell to preserve order.
" It was strange and striking to see so many old
men, just on the borders of the grave, still retaining
such ardor for science as to appear at a club like this,
and enter with passion into all the questions that
came up. Such a spectacle is not to be seen else
where, on the earth. The charms of science gen
erally fade to the eye of threescore and ten ; few
passions except piety and avarice survive threescore.
It is evident, in studying this association, that the
highest and most ardent exercises of the mind are
here stimulated by the desire of glory, which is the
reward of success. One thing struck me forcibly in
this assembly, and that was the utter absence of all
French foppery in dress, among the members. Their
attire was plain black, and generally as simple as
that of so many New England clergymen.
" In the evening, went to the Theatre Frangais, to
see Talma in the celebrated tragedy of Sylla, by Jouy.
Did not well understand the French, but could see
that the acting was very masterly. Had expected a
great deal of rant, but was agreeably disappointed. In

830 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
the more passionate parts there was a display of vigor,
but at other times the performance was quiet and nat
ural — without any of the stage- exaggeration I am ac
customed to. Most of the scenes were such as might
actually take place, under the circumstances indicated
in the play. Talma is said to resemble Napoleon in
person ; he certainly looked very much like his por
traits. His hair was evidently arranged to favor the
idea of resemblance to the emperor. He is a very
handsome man, and comes up to my idea of a great
actor. "February 20th — Went to see a new comedy" by
Casimir Delavigne, " L'Ecole des Vieillards." Talma
and Mademoiselle Mars played the two principal parts.
The piece consisted of a succession of rather long dia
logues, without any change of scenery. The whole
theater had somewhat the quiet elegance of a parlor.
There were no noisy disturbers ; there was no vul
garity — no boisterous applause. The actors appeared
like groups of genteel people, conversing, as we see
them in actual life. There was nothing very exciting
in the situations, nothing highly romantic in the plot
or denouement. The interest of the play consisted in
playful wit, sparkling repartee, and light satire upon
life and society — represented by the most beautiful
acting I have ever seen. Talma is inimitable in the
character of a refined but somewhat imbecile man,
who has passed the prime of life ; and Mademoiselle
Mars is, beyond comparison, the most graceful and

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 831
pleasing of actresses. I am struck with the strict
propriety, the refinement even of the manners of the
audience. The whole entertainment seems, indeed,
to be founded upon a very different idea from that of
the English stage, which is largely adapted to delight
the coarse tastes of the pit. Here the pit — called the
parterre — is filled with people of refinement.
"February 21st — Went to the Hospital of La Cha
rite. Saw Laennec, with his pupils, visiting the pa
tients. He makes great use of the stethoscope, which
is a wooden tube applied to the body, and put to the
ear : by the sound, the state of the lungs and the vital
organs is ascertained. It is like a telescope, by which
the interior of the body is perceived, only that the ear
is used instead of the eye. It is deemed a great im
provement. Laennec is the inventor, and has high
reputation in the treatment of diseases of the chest.
He has learned to ascertain the condition ofthe lungs
by thumping on the breast and back of the patient,
and putting the ear to the body at the same time.
He is a little man, five feet three inches high, and
thin as a shadow. However,- he has acute features,
and a manner which bespeaks energy and conscious
ness of power.
"The whole hospital was neat and clean; bed
steads of iron. French medical practice very light ;
few medicines given ; nursing is a great part of the
treatment. Laennec's pupils followed him from, pa
tient to patient. He conversed with them in Latin.

822 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
One of the patients was a handsome, black-eyed girl,
not very sick. All the young men must apply the
stethoscope to her chest ; she smiled, and seemed to
think it all right.
" Same day, went to the Hotel Dieu, a medical and
surgical hospital. Saw Dupuytren and his pupils,
visiting the patients. He is a rather large man, of a
fine Bonapartean head, but sour, contumelious looks.
He holds the very first rank as a surgeon. His op
erations are surprisingly bold and skillful. Edward
C  , of Philadelphia, who is here studying medicine,
told me a good anecdote of him. He has a notion that
he can instantly detect hydrocephalus in a patient,
from the manner in which he carries his head. One
day, while he was in the midst of his scholars at the
hospital, he saw a common sort of man standing at a
distance, among several persons who had come for
medical advice. Dupuytren's eye fell upon him, and
he said io his pupils — ' Do you see yonder, that fellow
that has his hand to his face, and carries his head al
most on his shoulder ? Now, take notice : that man
has hydrocephalus. Come here, my good fellow !'
" The man thus called, came up. ' Well,' said Du
puytren — ' I know what ails you ; but come, tell us
about it yourself What is the matter with you ?'
" 'I've got the toothache!' was the reply.
" ' Take that' — said Dupuytren, giving him a box
on the ear — ' and go to the proper department and
have it pulled out !' "

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC- 833

LETTER LVII.
Death of Louis XVIU.— Charles X.—The " Three Glorious Days"— Louis
PhUippe — The Resolution qf February, 1848.
My DEAE 0 ***** *
I was again in Paris in the summer of 1832.
Great changes had taken place since 1824 : Louis
XVIII. was dead; Charles X. had succeeded, and
after a brief reign had been driven away by the rev
olution of the " Three Glorious Days." Louis Phi
lippe was now on the throne. On the 29th of July,
and the two following days, we saw the celebration
of the event which had thus changed the dynasty of
France. It consisted of a grand fete, in the Champs
Elysees, closed by a most imposing military spectacle,
in which eighty thousand troops, extending from the
Arc de Triomphe to the Place Vendome, marched be
fore the admiring throng. Louis Philippe was him
self on horseback as commander-in-chief, and such
was his popularity among the masses that, in many
instances, I saw men in blouses rush up and grasp
his hand, and i&sist upon shaking it. Sixteen years
after, I saw him hustled into a cab, and flying from
the mob for his life — ^his family scattered, and he but
too happy to get safe to England in the disguise of a
sailor !
As I have told you, I established my family in

824 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
Paris in 1846 ; that winter and the following I was
also there. I remember that on a certain Monday in
February, 1848, I went up to see our countrywoman,
the Marchioness Lavalette, to arrange with her about
an introduction she had promised me to Guizot. She
was not at home, but as I was coming down the hill
from the Place St. George, I met her in her carriage.
She asked me to walk back to her house, and I did
BO. I observed that she was much agitated, and
asked her the cause. "We are going to have
trouble!" said she. "I have just been to the Cham
bers : the ministry have determined to stop the meet
ing of the liberals to-morrow ; the proclamation is
ialready being printed."
" Well, and what then ?" said L
"Another ' Three Glorious Days!' "
To this I replied that I conceived her fears ground
less ; that Louis Philippe appeared to me stroiig in
the confidence of the people ; that he was noted for
his prudence and sagacity; that Guizot, his prime
minister, was a man of great ability ; that the whole
cabinet, indeed, were distinguished for their judg
ment and capacity. The lady shook her head, and
Tejoined — *
" I know Paris better than you do. We are on
-the eve of an earthquake !"
Soon after this I took my leave. What speedily
ensued, may best be told in a letter I addressed to a
friend in Boston, and which was as follows :

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 835
Paeis, March 14th, 1848.
As it has been my fortune to be in Paris, and an observer of
many of the most stirring and striking occurrences during the
late revolution, I propose to give you a brief consecutive narra
tive of what I saw and heard, embracing a sketch of other lead
ing events. My purpose will be to take you with me, and make
you a participator, as far as possible, in the scenes witnessed and
emotions experienced by one who was on the spot.
Before I begin, it may be well to state a few particulars as to
the political condition of France at the moment of the revolt.
It is well knovpn that Louis Philippe accepted the crown at the
hands of Lafayette, after the struggle of July, 1830, the latter
saying, as he presented the king and charter to the people-
"We give you the best of monarchies— the best of republics!"
The circumstances, all considered, pledged" Louis Philippe to a
liberal government, in which the good of the people should be
the supreme object, and the popular will the predominating
element. He commenced his career under fair auspices, and for a time
every thing promised a happy fulfillment of what seemed his
duty and his destiny. But by degrees a great change came over
the monarch ; the possession of power seduced his heart, and
turned his head ; and forgetting his pledges, and blind to his
true interest, he set himself to building up a dynasty that should
hand down his name and fame to posterity.
It seemed, at a superficial glance, that he might realize hia
dream. He had acquired the reputation of being the most saga
cious monarch of his time. He had improved and embellished
the capital ; on all sides his " image and superscription" were
seen in connection with statues, fountains, edifices, and works
of beauty and utility. France was happier than the adjacent
countries. The famine and the pestilence, that had recently
desolated neighboring states, had trod raore lightly here. The
king was blessed with a large family. These had all reached
maturity, and were allied to kings and queens, princes and prin-

836 LEITEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
cesses. The upholders of the crown in the parliaraent, were
men whose names alone were a tower of strength. Peace
reigned at home, and the army abroad had just succeeded in
achieving a signal triumph over an enemy that had baffled them
for seventeen years.*
Suoh was the outward seeming of affairs; but there were
threatening fires within, which might at any moment produce a
conflagration. Many thinking people were profoundly disgusted
with the retrograde tendency of the government, with the cor
ruption of its officers, the gradual subsidizing of the legislature
by the crown, and the concentration of all the powers of the
state in the hands of one man, who was now using them for
family aggrandizement. Although the march of despotism had
been cautious and stealthy, the plainest mind could see, and in
deed the people generally began to feel, many galling evidences
of the tyranny to which they had become actually subjected.
Among these grievances, were the constant increase of the
national debt, and consequent increase of taxation, with the
restraints put upon the liberty of the press and of speech. By
a law of some years' standing, the people were prohibited from
holding stated meetings of more than twenty persons, without
license ; and reform ianquets, or meetings for the discussion of
public affairs — of which about seventy had been held, in differ
ent parts of the kingdom, within the last year — were now pro
nounced iUegal by the ministry. Finally, a determination to sup
press one of them, about to be held in the twelfth ward of Paris,
was solemnly announced by them in the Chamber of Deputies.
It is material to bear in mind, that there are always in this
metropohs at least one hundred thonsand workmen, who live
from day to day upon their labor, and who, npon the slightest
check to trade, are plunged into poverty, if not starvation. At
the moment of which we are speaking, this immense body of
* Abd-el-Kadir, who had been the indomitable leader of the Arabs
ofthe Desert, against the French, who had conquered Algiers, surren
dered to Gen. Lamoriciere, December 22d, 1847.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 83?
men, with their families, were suffering sorely from the stagna
tion of business in the capital. There were not less than two
hundred thousand persons who, for the space of three months,
had hardly been able to obtain sufficient food to appease the
cravings of hunger. How easy to stir up these people to rebel
lion ! — how natural for them to turn their indignation against
the king and his government ! The opposition members seized
the occasion now afforded them, to excite these discontented
masses against the ministry; and it may be added that the
latter, by their rashness, did more than their enemies to prepare
the mine and set the match to the train.
The crisis was now at hand. The opposition deputies declared
their intention to attend the proposed meeting ; and in spite of
the threats of the ministry, the preparations for the banquet
went vigorously on. A place was selected in the Champs Ely-
sees, and a building was in progress of erection for the celebra
tion. The programme of the same was announced, the toast for
the occasion was published, the orator, O. Barrot, selected. The
day was flxed — an ominous day for tyranny — an auspicious one
for human freedom. It was the 22d of February, the birthday
of Washington ! Whether it has received a new title to its place
in the calendar of liberty, must be left for the decision of time.
The evening of the 21st came, and then proclamations were
issued by the co-operation of the ministry and the police, prohib
iting the banquet. This act, though it had been threatened, still
feU like a thunderbolt upon the people. It was known that an
immense military force had been quietly assembled in Paris and
the vicinity — eighty thousand troops, with artillery and ample
munitions — and that the garrisons around the Tuileries had
been victualed as if for a siege. But it had not been believed
that an attempt to stifle the voice of the people, so bold as this,
would really be made. Yet such was the fact. The leaders of
the opposition receded from their ground, and it was announced,
in the papers of the 22d, that the banquet, being forbidden by
the government, would not take place I

838 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
The raorning of this day was dark and drizzly. I had antici
pated some manifestation 'ol uneasiness, and at half-past nine
o'clock went forth. Groups of people were reading the procla
mations posted tip at the corners of the streets, but all was
tranquil. I walked along the Boulevards for a mile, yet saw no
symptoms of the coming storm.
The designated place of meeting for the banquet was the
square of the Madeleine. This is at the western extremity of
the Boulevards, and near the great central square, called the
Place de la Concorde — a point communicating directly with the
Chamber of Deputies, the Champs Elysees, the gardens of the
Tuileries, &c. At eleven o'clock, a. m., a dark mass was seen
moving along the Boulevards, toward the proposed place of
meeting. This consisted of thousands of workmen from the
faubourgs. In a few moments the entire square of the Madeleine
was filled with these persons, dressed almost exclusively in their
characteristic costume, which consists of a blue tunic, called
blouse — a garment which is made very much in the fashion of
our farmers' frocks.
The opening scene of the drama had now begun. The mass
rushed and eddied around the Madeleine, which, by the way,
is the finest church and the finest edifice in Paris. Such was
•the threatening aspect of the scene, that the shops were all sud
denly shut, and the people around began to supply themselves
with bread and other food, for " three days." In a few moments,
the avalanche took its course down the Rue Eoyale, swept
across the Place de la Concorde, traversed the bridge over the
Seine, and coUected in swelling and heaving masses in the Place,
or square, before the Chamber of Deputies. This building is
defended in front by a high iron raihng. The gate of this was
soon forced, and some hundreds of the people rushed up the long
flight of steps, and pausing beneath the portico, struck up the
song of the Marseillaise — a song, by the way, interdicted by law
on account of its exciting character. The crowd here rapidly
increased ; shouts, songs, cries, filled the air. East and west,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 839
a' mg the quays, and through the streets behin the Chamber,
came long lines of students from the various schools. Standing
upon one of the pillars of the bridge, I commanded a view of
the whole scene. It was one to fill the heart with the liveliest
emotions. A hundred thousand people were now collected,
seeming like an agitated sea, and sending forth a murmur resem
bling the voice of many waters. From the southern gate of the
Tuileries now issued two bodies of troops — one, on horseback,
coming along the northern quay. These were the Municipal
Guard, a magnificent corps, richly caparisoned, and nobly
mounted. Being picked men, and well paid, they were the
chief reliance of the.government, .and for that very reason were
haled by the people. The other body of troops were infantry
of the line, and crossing the Pont Eoyal, came along the south
ern bank of the river. Both detachments approached the mul
titude, and crowding upon them with a slow advance, succeeded
at last in clearing the space before the Chamber.
The greater part of the throng recrossed the bridge, and
spread themselves over the Place de la Concorde. This square,
perhaps the most beautiful in the world, is about flve acres in ex
tent. In the center is the far-famed obelisk of Luxor ; on either
side of this is a splendid fountain, which was in full action du
ring the scenes we describe. To the east is the garden of the
Tuileries ; to the west are the Champs Elysees. This vast area,
so associated with art, and luxury, and beauty, was now crowd
ed with an excited populace, mainly of the working classes.
Their number constantly augmented, and bodies of troops, foot
and horse, arrived from various quarters, till the square was
literally covered. The number of persons here collected in one
mass was over one hundred thousand.
At the commencement, the mob amused themselves with
songs, shouts, and pasquinades; but in clearing the space before
the Chamber, and driving the people across the bridge, the
guards had displayed great rudeness. They pressed upon the
masses, and one woman was crushed to death beneath the hoofe

830 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
of the horses. Pebbles now began to be hurled at the troops
from the square. Dashing in among the people, sword in hand,
the cavalry drove them away; but as they cleared one spot,
another was immediately filled. The effect of this was to chafe
and irritate the mob, who now began to seize sticks and stones
and hurl them in good earnest at their assailants.
While this petty war was going on, some thousands of the
rioters dispersed themselves through the Champs Elysees, and
began to build barricades across the main avenue. The chairs,
amounting to many hundreds, were immediately disposed in
three lines across the street. Benches, trellises, boxes, fences —
every movable thing within reach — were soon added to these
barricades. An omnibus passing by was captured, detached
from the horses, and tumbled into one of the lines. The flag
was taken from the Panorama near by, and a vast procession
paraded through the grounds, singing the Marseillaise, the Pari-
sienne, and other patriotic airs.
Meanwhile, a small detachment of footguards advanced to
the scene of action ; but they were pelted with stones, and took
shelter in their guard-house. This was assailed with a shower
of missiles, which rattled like hail upon its roof. The windows
were dashed In, and a heap of brush near hy was laid to the
wall and set on fire. A body of horse-guards soon arrived and
dispersed the rioters ; but the latter crossed to the northern side
of the Champs Elysees, attacked another guard-house, and set it
on fire. A company of the line came to the spot, but the mob
cheered them, and they remained inactive. The revel proceeded,
and, in the face of the soldiers, the people fed the fire with fuel
from the surrounding trees and fences, sang their songs, cracked
their jokes, and crjed, "Down with Guizot!" — "Vive la Re
forme 1" &c. In these scenes the boys took the lead — ^perform
ing the most desperate feats, and inspiring the rest by their
intrepidity. A remarkable air of fun and frolic characterized
the mob — wit flew as freely on all sides as stones and sticks-
every missile seemed winged with a joke.

831
Such was the course of events the first day, so far as they foL
under my own observation. It appears from the papers that
similar proceedings, though in some cases of a more serious
character, took place elsewhere. Great masses of people gath
ered at various points. They made hostile demonstrations be
fore the office of Foreign Affairs, crying out, "Down with
Guizot!" Some person called for the minister. "He is not
here," said one ; " he is with the Countess Lieven" — a remark
whioh the habitues of Paris will understand as conveying a
keen satire. At other points, a spirit of insubordination was
manifested. Bakers' shops were broken open, armories forced,
aud barricades begun. Everywhere the hymn of the Marseil
laise, and Dumas' touching death-song of the Girondins, were
sung — often by hundreds of voices, and with thrilling effect.
The rappel, for calling out the National Guard, was beaten
in several quarters. As night closed in, heavy masses of
soldiery, horse and foot, with trains of artillery, were seen at
various points. The Place du Carrousel was full of troops, and
at evening they were there reviewed by the king, and the Dukes
of Nemours and Montpensier. Six thousand soldiers were dis
posed along the Boulevards, from the Madeleine to the Porte
St. Martin. Patrols were seen in diflerent quarters during the
whole night. About twelve, tranquillity reigned over the city,
disturbed only in a few remote and obscure places by the build
ing of barricades, the arrest of rioters, and one or two combats,
in which several persons were killed. Such was the flrst day's
¦work — the prelude to the mighty drama about to follow.
Wednesday, the 23d, was fair, with dashes of rain at intervals,
as in our April. I was early abroad, and soon noticed that
companies of National Guards were on duty. Only regular
troops had been called out the day before — a fact which showed
the distrust entertained by the king of the National Guards.
This was remarked by the latter, and was doubtless one of tho
causes which hastened the destruction of the government.
At nine o'clock, I passed up the Boulevards. Most of th.i

833 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
shops were shut, and an air of uneasiness prevailed among the
people. At the Porte St. Denis, there was a great throng, and
a considerable mass of troops. Barricades were soon after
erected in the streets of St. Denis, Clery, St. Eustache, Oadran,
&o. Several fusilades took place between the people at these
points and the soldiers, and a number of persons were killed.
Some contests occurred in other quarters during the morning.
At two o'clock, the Boulevards, the Rues St. Denis, St. Martin,
Montmartre, St. Honors — ^in short, all the great thoroughfares
— were literally crammed with people. Bodies of horse and
foot, either stationary or patrolling, were everywhere to be
seen. It was about this time that some officers of the National
Guard ordered their men to fire, but they refused. In one in
stance, four hundred National Guards were seen marching, in
aniform, but without arms. It becarae evident that the soldiers
generally were taking part with the people. This news was
carried to the Palace, and Count Mole was called in to form a
new ministry. He undertook the task, and orders were imme
diately given to spread the inteUigence of this through the city.
MeanwhUe the riot and revel went on in various quarters.
The police were active, and hundreds of persons were arrested
and lodged in prison. Skirmishes took place, here and there,
between the soldiers and the people; long processions were
seen, attended by persons who sang choruses, and shouted,
" Down with Guizot !" — " Vive la reforme !"
About four o'clock, the news of the downfaU of the Guizot
ministry was spread along the Boulevards. The joyful inteUi
gence ran over the city with the speed of light. It was every
where received with acclamations. The people and the troops,
a short time before looking at each other in deadly hostiUty,
were seen shaking hands, and expressing congratulations. An
immense population — men, women, and children — poured into
the Boulevards, to share in the jubilation. Large parties of the
National Guard paraded the streets, the officers and men shout-
ing, "Vive la reforme!" and the crowd cheering loudly. Bands

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 833
of five hundred to fifteen hundred men and boys went about
making noisy demonstrations of joy. On being met by the
troops, they divided to let them pass, and immediately resumed
their cries and their songs.
Toward half-past six o'clock in the evening, an iUumination
was spoken of, and many persons lighted up spontaneously.
The illumination soon became more general, and the populace,
in large numbers, went through the streets, calling, "Light np!"^
Numerous bauds, alone, or following detachments of the Na
tional Guards, went about, shouting, " Vive le roi !" — " Vive la
reforme!" and singing the Marseillaise. At many points, where
barricades had been erected, and the people were resisting the
troops, they ceased when they heard the news of the resigna
tions, and the troops retired. " It is all over!" was the general
cry, and a feeling of relief seemed to pervade every bosom.
There can be no doubt that, but for a fatal occurrence which
soon after took place, the further progress of the revolt might
have been stayed. Many wise people now say, indeed, that the
revolution was all planned beforehand ; they had foreseen and
predicted it ; and from the beginning of the outbreak every thing
tended to this point. The fact is unquestionably otherwise.
The " Opposition," with their various clubs and societies dis
tributed through all classes in Paris, and holding constant com
munication with the workmen, or blousemen, no doubt stood
ready to take advantage of any violence on the part of the gov
ernment which might justify resistance ; but they had not anti
cipated such a contingency on the present occasion. It is not
probable that the Mole ministry, had it been consummated,
would have satisfied the people ; but the king had yielded ;
Guizot, the special object of hatred, had fallen, and it was sup
posed that further concessions would be made, as concession
had been begun. But accident, which often rules the fate of
empires and dynasties, now stepped in to govern the course of
events, and give them a character which should astonish the
world.

834 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
In the course of the evening, a large mass of people had col
lected on the Boulevard, in the region of Guizot's office — ^the
H6tel des Affaires Etrangferes. The troops here had unfortu
nately threatened the people, by rushing at them with fixed
bayonets, after the announcement of the resignation of the min
istry, and when a good feeling prevailed among all classes. This
irritated the mob, and was partly, no doubt, the occasion ofthe
large gathering in this quarter. For some reason, not well ex
plained, a great many troops had also assembled here and in the
vicinity. At ten o'clock, the street from the Madeleine to the
Rue de la Paix, was thronged with soldiers and people. There
was, however, no riot, and no symptom of disorder.
At this moment, a coUection of persons, mostly young men,
about. sixty in number, came along the Boulevard, on the side
opposite to the soldiers and the Foreign Office. It is said that
the colonel anticipated some attack, though nothing of the kind
was .threatened. It appears that the soldiers stood ready to fire,
when one of their muskets went off,* and wounded the command
er's horse in the leg. He mistook this for a shot from the crowd,
and gave instant orders to fire. A fusilade immediately foUowed.
Twenty persons fell dead, and forty were wounded. Tlie scene
whioh ensued baffles description. The immense masses dispersed
in terror, and carried panic in aU directions. The groans of the
dying and the screams of the wounded filled the .air. Shops
and houses around were turned into hospitals. " We are be
trayed ! we are betrayed!" — "Revenge! revenge!" was the
cry of the masses.
From this moraent the doom of the monarchy was sealed.
The leaders of the clubs, no doubt, took their measures for
revolution. An immense wagon was soon brought to the scene
of the massacre ; the dead bodies were laid on it, and flaring
torches were lighted over it. The ghastly spectacle was para-
* It has since been said, and is generally believed, that a revolution
ist by the name of Lagrange fired this shot with a pistol, having ex
pected and designed the events which Immediately followed.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 835
ded through the streets, and the mute lips of the corpses doubt
less spoke more effectively than those of the living. Large
masses of people, pale with excitement, and uttering execra
tions upon the murderers, followed in the train of the wagon,
as it passed through the more populous streets of the city, and
especiaUy in those qu'arters inhabited by the lower classes. The
eff'ect was such as might have been anticipated. At midnight,
the barricades were begun, and at sunrise, the streets of Paris
displayed a net- work of fortifications from the place St. George
to the church of Notre Dame, which set the troops at defiance.
More than a thousand barricades, some of them ten feet in
height, were thrown up during that memorable night ; yet such
were the suddenness and silence of the or.erations, that raost ot
the inhabitants of the city slept in sf-curity, fondly dreaming
that the tempest had passed, and that the morning would greet
them in peace.
On Thursday, the decisive day, the weather was still mUd,
and without rain, though the sky was dimmed with clouds.
At eleven in the morning, I sallied forth. I can not express my
astonishment at the scene. The whole Boulevard was a spec
tacle of desolation. From the Eue de la Paix to the Rue Mont
martre — the finest part of Paris, the glory of the city — every
tree was cut down, all the public monuments reduced to heaps
of ruins, the pavements torn up, and the entire wreck tumbled
into a succession of barricades. Every street leading into this
portion of the Boulevard was strongly barricaded. Such giant
operations seemed like the work of enchantment.
But my wonder had only begun. At the point where the
Rue Montmartre crosses the Boulevard, the entire pavement
was torn up, and something like a square breastwork was form
ed, in which a cannon was planted. The whole space around
was crowded with the populace. As I stood for a moment,
surveying the scene, a young man, about twenty, passed through
the crowd, and stepping upon the carriage of the cannon, cried
out, "Down with Louis Philippe!" The energy with which

836 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
this was spoken sent a thriU through every bosom ; and the
remarkable appearance of the youth gave additional effect to
his words. He seemed the very demon of revolution. He was
short, broad-shouldered, and fuU-ehested. His face was pale,
his cheek spotted with blood, and his head, without hat or cap,
was bound with a handkerchief His features were keen, and
his deep-set eye was lit with a spark that seemed borrowed from
a tiger. As he left the throng, he came near me, and I said, in
quiringly, " Down with Louis Philippe 1" "Yes!" was Lis re
ply. "And what then?" said I. "A republic!" was his an
swer ; and he passed on, giving the watchword of " Down with
Louis PhUippe!" to the masses he encountered. This was the
first instance in whicl I heard the overthrow of the king, and
the adoption of a repub'ic proposed.
In pursuing my walk, I noticed that the population were now
abundantly supplied with weapons. On the two first days they
were unarmed ; but after the slaughter at the Foreign Office,
they went to all the houses and demanded weapons. These were
given, for refusal would have been vain. An evidence of the
consideration of the populace, even in their hour of wrath, is
furnished by the fact, that in all cases where the arms had been
surrendered, they wrote on the doors in chalk, "Armes don-
nees" — arms given up — so as to prevent the annoyance of a sec
ond caU.
It might seem a fearful thing to behold a mob, such as that
of Paris, brandishing guns, fowling-pieces, swords, cutlasses,
hatchets, and axes ; but I must say that I felt not the sUghtest
fear in passing araong their thickest masses. Some of them,
who had doubtless never handled arms before, seemed a little
jaunty and jubilant. The Gamins, a peculiar race of enterpri
sing, daring, desperate boys — the leaders in riots, rows, and re-
belUons — were swarming on aU sides, and seemed to feel a head
taller in the possession of their weapons. I saw several of these
unwashed imps strutting about with red sashes around the
waist, supporting pistols, dirks, cutlasses, &o. ; yet I must state

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 837
that over the whole scene there was an air of good-breeding,
which seemed a guaranty against insult or violence. I may also
remark here, that during the whole three days, I did not ob
serve a scuffle or wrangle among the people ; I did not hear an
insulting word, nor did I see a menace offered — save in conflicts
between the soldiers and the populace. I can add, that I did
not see a drunken person during the whole period, with the
single exception which I shall hereafter mention.
I took a wide circuit in the region of the Eue Montmartre,
the Bourse, the Eue Vivienne, St. Honore, and the Palais Eoyal.
Everywhere there were enormous barricades and crowds of
•armed people. Soon after — that is, about twelve o'clock —
I passed the southern quadrangle of the Palais Eoyal, whicb
—lately the residence of the brother of the King of Naples —
was now attacked and taken by the populace. The beautiful
suit of rooms were richly furnished, and decorated with costly
pictures, statues, bronzes, and other specimens of art. These
were unsparingly tumbled into the square and the street, and
consigned to the flames.* At the distance of one hundred and
fifty feet from the front of the Palais Eoyal, was the Cha
teau d'Eau, a massive stone buUding occupied as a barrack,
and at this moment garrisoned by one hundred and eighty
municipal guards. In most parts of the city, seeing that
the troops fraternized with the people, the government had
given them orders not to fire. These guards, however, attacked
the insurgents in and about the Palais Eoyal. Their fire was
returned, and a desperate conflict ensued. The battle lasted for
more than an hour, the people rushing in the very face of the
* Many occurrences, during the revolution, served to display, on the
part of the people, commonly, but injuriously, called the mob, senti
ments not inferior in beauty and elevation to those handed down for
centuries in the histories of ancient Greece and Eome. During the
sacking of the Palais Eoyal, the insurgents found an ivory crucifix. In
the very heat of their fury against tyranny, they reverently paused, and
taking the sacred emblem of their faith, bore it to the old church of St.
Rooh, where it was safelv denosited.

838 LEITEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
muskets of the guard, as they blazed from the grated windows.
At last the barrack was set on flre, and the guard yielded, though
not tUl many of their number had faUen, and the rest were near
ly dead with suffocation. The Chateau d'Eau is now a mere
ruin, its mottled walls giving evidence of the shower of bullets
that had been poured upon it.*
No sooner had the Chateau d'Eau surrendered, than the
flushed victors took their course tbward the TuUeries, which was
near at hand ; shouting, singing, roaring, they came like a surge,
bearing aU before them. The Place du Carrousel was filled with
troops, but not a sword was unsheathed — ^not a bayonet point
ed — not a musket or a cannon fired. There stood, idle and mo
tionless, the mighty armament whioh the king had appointed
for his defense. How vain had his calculations proved ! for,
alas ! they were founded in a radical error I The soldiers would
not massacre their brethren, to sustain a throne which they
now despised !
But we must now enter the Tuileries. For several days pre
vious to the events we have described, sorae anxiety had been
entertained by persons in and about tbe palace. The king, how
ever, had no fears. He appeared in unusual spirits, and if any
intimation of danger was given, he turned it aside with a sneer
or a joke. Even so late as Wednesday, after he had caUed upon
Count M0I6 to form a new ministry, he remarked, that he was
so " flrmly seated in the saddle, that nothing could throw him
off." Mole soon found it impossible, with the materials at hand, to
construct a ministry. Thiers was then caUed in, and after a
long course of higgling and chaffering on the part of the king,
it was agreed that he and Barrot should undertake to carry on
* In the recent improvements in Paris, the ruins ofthe Chateau d'Eau
have been removed, and a square has been opened upon their site from
the Palais Eoyal to the new portions of the Louvre. These and other
alterations have rendered this one ofthe most beautiful quarters ofthe
city. The Louvre and the Tuileries have been united, and now form
one of the most magnificent palaces in Europe.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 839
the government. This was announced by them in person, as
they rode through the streets on Thursday morning. These
concessions, however, came too late. The cry for a republic,
was bursting frora the lips of the miUion. The abdication of
the king was decreed, and a raging multitude were demanding
this at the very gates of the palace. Overborne by the crisis,
the king agreed to abdicate in favor of the Duke de Nemours.
Some better tidings were brought him, and he retracted what
he had just done. A moment after, it became certain that the
insurgents would shortly burst into the palace. In great trepi
dation, the king agreed to resign the crown in favor of his
grandson, the young Count de Paris — ^yet, stiU clinging to hope,
he shuffled and hesitated before he would put his name to the
act of abdication. This, however, was at last done, and the
king and queen, dressed in black, and accompanied by a few
individuals who remained faithful in this trying moment, passed
from the Tuileries to the Place de la Concorde, through the sub
terranean passage constructed many years previously for the
walks of the infant king of Eome. They here entered a small
one-horse vehicle, and after a rapid and successful flight, landed
safely at Dover, in England.*
Meanwhile, the mob had seized the royal carriages, fourteen
in number, and made a bonfire of them, near the celebrated
arch in the Place du Carrousel. Soon after, they forced the
raUing at several points, and came rushing across the square to
ward the palace. Scarcely had the various members of the
royal family time to escape on one side of the buUding, when
the mob broke in at the other.
I have not time to foUow the adventures of these several in
dividuals. We can not but sympathize with them in their mis
fortunes ; but we may remark, that the faU of the Orleans dy-
¦* The various members of the royal family, having escaped to Eng
land, established themselves at Claremont, near London, where they
have continued till this time. Louis Philippe died there the 22d o.
August, 1850.

840 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL, -
nasty was not broken by a single act of courage or dignity on
the part of any one of the famUy. Their flight seemed a vulgar
scramble for mere life. Even the king was reduced to the most
common-place disguises — the shaving of his whiskers, the
change of his dress, the adopting an " alias!" I may add here,
that they have all escaped ; and whUe everybody seeras glad of
this, there is no one behind who raourns their loss. None are
raore loud in denouncing the besotted confidence of the king,
than his two hundred and twenty-five purchased deputies, who
were so loyal in the days of prosperity.
We raust now turn our attention toward another scene — the
Chamber of Deputies. This body met on Tuesday, at the
usual hour — twelve o'clock. While the riotous scenes we have
described were transpiring during that day, in full view of the
place where they had assembled, the deputies, as if iu mockery
of the agitation without, were occupied in a languid discussion
upon the affairs of a broken country bank. Toward the close
of the sitting, OdiUon Barrot read from the tribune a solemn
act of impeachment of the rainisters. The next day, Wednes
day, the Chamber again raet, and Guizot in the afternoon an
nounced that Count Mole was attempting to form a new min
istry. It does not appear that Guizot or his coUeagues were
afterward seen in the Charaber. It is said that they met at the
house of Duchatel on Thursday morning, and after consultatioPv
adopted the significant motto of Napoleon after the battle of
Waterloo — " Sauve qui pent /" — Save himself who can. I ara
happy to add that the fugitives seem to have raade good their
retreat. It is said that Soult, disdaining to fly, remains at hia
house. I need not say that he will not be molested, for there is
no sanguinary feeling toward any one, and Napoleon's old fa
vorite, the victor in so many battles, would more readily find
a Parisian populace to protect than injure him.
A short time after the king and queen had passed the Place
de la Concorde, I chanced to be there. In a few moments Odil-
lon Barrot appeared from the gate of the ' aiileries, and, follow-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 841
ed by a long train of persons, proceeded to the Chamber of
Deputies. It was now understood that the king had abdicated,
and that Thiers and Barrot were to propose the Count de Paris
as king, under the regency of his mother, the Duchess of Or
leans. The most profound emotion seemed to occupy the im
mense multitude. AU were hushed into silence by th§ rapid
succession of astonishing events. After a short space, the Duch
ess of Orleans, with her two sons, the Count de Paris and the
Duke de Chartres, were seen on foot coming toward the Cham
ber, encircled by a strong escort. She was dressed in deep
mourning, her face bent to the ground. She moved across the
bridge, and passing to the rear ofthe buUding, entered it through
the gardens. Shortly after this, the Duke de Nemours, attended
by several gentlemen on horseback, rode up, and also entered
the buUding.
The scene that ensued within, is said to have presented an
extraordinary misture of the solemn and the ludicrous. The
duchess being present, 0. Barrot proceeded to state the abdica
tion of the king, and to propose the regency. It was then that
Lamartine seemed to shake off the poet and philosopher, and
suddenly to become a man of action. Seizing the critical rao
ment, he declared his conviction that the days of monarchy
were numbered, that the proposed regency was not suited to
the crisis, and that a republic alone would meet the emergency
and the wishes of France. These opinions, happily expressed
and strenuously enforced, became decisive in their effect.
Several other speeches were made, and a scene of great con
fusion foUowed. A considerable number of the mob had broken
into the room, and occupied the galleries' and tlie floor. One- of
them brought his firelock to his shoulder, and took aim at M.
Sauzet, the president. Entirely losing his self-possession, he
abdicated with great speed, and disappeared. In the raidst of
the hubbub, a provisional goveruraent was announced, and the
leading members were named. Some of the more obnoxious
deputies were aimed at by the muskets of the mob, and skulk-

843 LETTERS — BIOGEAPHICAL,
ing behind benches and piUars, they oozed out at back doors
and windows. A blouseman came up to the Duke de Ne
mours, who drew his sword. The raan took it from him, broke
it over his knee, and counseled his highness to depart. This he
did forthwith, having borrowed a coat and hat for the purpose
of disguise. A call was made for the raerabers of the provi
sional goveruraent to proceed to the Hotel de Ville. The assem
bly broke up, and the curtain fell upon the last sitting of the
Chamber of Deputies — the closing scene of Louis Philippe's gov
ernment. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, that I retraced
my steps toward the Tuileries. The Place de la Concorde was
crowded with soldiers, and fifty cannon were ranged in front of
the gardens. Yet this mighty force seemed struck with paraly
sis. Long lines of infantry stood mute and motionless, and
heavy masses of cavalry seemed converted into so many statues.
Immediately before the eyes of these soldiers was the palace of
the Tuileries in fuU possession of the mob, but not a muscle
moved for their expulsion !
Passing into the gardens, I noticed that thousands of per
sons were spread over their surface, and a rattUng discharge of
fire-arms was heard on all sides. Looking about for the cause
of this, I perceived that hundreds of men and boys were amu
sing themselves with shooting sparrows and pigeons, which
had hitherto found a secure resting-place in this favorite resort
of leisure and luxury. Others were discharging their muskets
for the mere fun of making a noise. Proceeding through the
gardens, I came at last to the palace. It had now been, for
more than an hour, in fuU possession of the insurgents. All de
scription faUs to depict a scene like this. The whole front of
the Tuileries, one-eighth of a mile in length, seemed gushing at
doors, windows, balconies, and galleries, with Uving multitudes
—a mighty beehive of men, in the very act of swarming. A
confused hubbub fiUed the air and bewildered the senses with
ts chaotic sounds.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICA..., ETC. 843
At the moment I arrived, the throne of the king was borne
away by a jubilant band of revelers ; and after being paraded
through the streets, was burned at the Place de la Bastille — a
significant episode in this tale of wonders. The colossal statue
of Spartacus, which faces the raain door of the palace, toward
the gardens, was now decorated with a piece of gilt cloth torn
frora the throne and wreathed like a turban around his head.
In his hand was a gorgeous bouquet of artificial fiowers. It
seemed as if the frowning gladiator had suddenly caught the
spirit of the revel, and was about to descend from his pedestal
and mingle in the masquerade.
I entered the palace, and passed through the long suites of
apartments devoted to occasions of ceremony. A year before,
I had seen these gorgeous haUs fiUed with the flush and the
fair,, kings, princes, and nobles, gathered to this focal point of
luxury, refinement, and taste, from every quarter of the world.
How little did Louis PhUippe, at that moment, dream of " com
ing events 1" How little did the stately queen — a proud obelisk
of silk, and lace, and diamonds — foresee the change that was at
hand ! I recollected well the effect of this scene upon my own
mind, and felt the fuU force of the contrast which the present
moraent offered. In the very room where I had seen the
pensive and pensile Princess de Joinville and the Duchess de
Montpensier — the latter then fresh from the hymeneal altar,
her raven hair studded with diamonds like evening stars — whirl
ing in the mazy dance, I now beheld a band of creatures like
Calibans, gamboling to the song of the MarseiUaise !
On every side my eye feU upon scenes of destruction. Pass
ing to the other end of the palace, I beheld a mob in the cham
bers of the princesses. Some roUed themselves in the luscious
beds, others anointed their shaggy heads with choice pomatum,
exclaiming, " Dieu ! how sweet it smeUs !" One of the gamins,
grimed with gunpowder, blood, and dirt, seized a tooth-brush,
and placing himself before a mirror, seemed delighted at the
manifest improvement which he produced upon his ivory.

844 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
On leaving the palace, I saw numbers ofthe men drinking wine
from bottles taken from the well-stocked ceUars. None of them
were positively drunk. To use the words of Tam O'Shanter,
" They were na fou, but just had. plenty" — ^perhaps a little more.
They flourished their guns and pistols, brandished their swords,
and performed various antics, but they offered no insult to any
one. They seemed in excellent humor, and made more than an
ordinary display of French poUtesse. They complimented the
women, of whom there was no lack, and one of them, resem
bling a flgure of Pan, seized a maiden by the waist, and both
rigadooned merrily over the floor.
Leaving this scene of wreck, confusion, and uproar, I pro
ceeded toward the gate of the gardens leading into the Eue de
Rivoli. I was surprised to find here a couple of ruthless-looking
blousemen, armed with pistols, keeping guard. On inquiry, I
found that the mob themselves had instituted a sort of govern
ment. One feUow, in the midst of the devastation in the pal
ace, seeing a man put something into his pocket, wrote on the
waU, "Death to the thief!" The Draconian code was imme
diately adopted by the people, and became the law of Paris.
Five persons, taken in acts of robbery, were shot down by tbe
people, and their bodies exposed in the streets, with the label
of " Thieves" on their breast. Thus order and law seemed to
spring up from the instincts of society, in the raidst of uproar
and confusion, as crystals are seen shooting from the chaos of
the elements.
Three days had now passed, and the revolution was accom
plished. The people soon returned to their wonted habits — the
provisional government proceeded in its duties— the barricades
disappeared, and in a single week the more obtrusive traces of
the storm that had passed had vanished from the streets and
squares of Paris. A mighty shock has, however, been given to
society, whioh stiU sweUs and undulates like the sea after a
storm. The adjacent countries seem to feel the movement, and
all Europe is in a state of agitation. What must be the final re-

ETC 845
suit, can not now be foreseen ; but I fear that, ere the sky be
cleared, stiU further tempests must sweep over France and the
surrounding nations. The day of reckoning for long yetirs of
tyranny and corruption has come, and the sun of liberty can
hardly be expected to shine fuU on the scene, tUl a night of fear,
and agitation, and tears has been passed.

LETTER LVIII.
Events which i/m/mediately followed ihe Revolution — Scenes in the streets of
Paris — Anxiety of Strangers — Proceedings of the Americans — Address
to the Provisional Government — Reply of M. Arago — Procession in the
streets — Inauguration of the Republic — Funeral of the Victims — Presen
tation of Flags — Conspiraey of the \^th of May — Insurrection of June
— Adoption of the Constitution — Louis Napoleon President.
My deae 0******
It is quite impossible to give you any adequate
idea of the state of things in Paris, immediately after
the revolution described in my preceding letter. The
Provisional Government, at the Hotel de Ville, con
sisting of persons who had seized the reins of .author
ity which had suddenly fallen from the hands of the
now prostrate monarchy, was as yet without real
power. Every thing was in a state of paralysis, or
disorganization. There was no effective police, no
visible authority, no actual government ; every man
did what seemed good in his own eyes. Boys and
blackguards paraded the streets with swords at their
side, muskets in their hands, and sashes around their

846 LETTEES^BIOGEAPHIOAL,
waists. Enormous processions of men, sometimes
mingled with women, moved along the thorough
fares, singing the Marseillaise and "Mourir pour la
Patrie." It was a general jubilee — and, strange to
say, without riot, without violence, without fear. I
walked freely abroad in the streets, taking my wife
and children with me ; we were constantly saluted by
men an^d women offering us tricolored rosettes, which
they pinned upon our breasts with the utmost good-
humor, expecting, of course, a few sous in return.
This state of things continued for some weeks — the
people being a law unto themselves, and refraining
alike from turbulence, from outrage, and from pil
lage. It is probable that in no other great city of
the world could the masses be let loose from the
restraints of government and law, and yet keep them
selves within the bounds of order and propriety, as
did the Parisians during this remarkable era.
Of course, there was a general feeling of anxiety
among all reflecting people in Paris, and especially
those whose minds reverted to the first French revo
lution. This disquietude extended particularly to all
foreigners, and they naturally cast about for the
means of safety. It was difficult to leave Paris, for
some of the railroads were broken up, and all the
modes of conveyance were deranged. It was almost
impossible to get money for the purposes of travel,
and even if one could escape from Paris, more danger
ous agitation might exist in the country. The lead

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 847
ing Americans took counsel together on this subject,
and finally concluded to proceed, in procession, to
the Provisional Government, and congratulate them
upon the revolution.* A message was sent to inquire
if this would be acceptable ; the answer was favora
ble, and, indeed, they were desired to hasten the
proceeding, as it was thought such a demonstration
might contribute to give support to the trembling
authority of the self-elected rulers.
In the preliminary meeting for bringing about the
proposed address, I was chosen to preside, and was
also selected as chairman of the committee to draw
up the address itself I had some curious counsel
given me by my countrymen, while I was preparing
this document. The Americans looked upon the
revolution, not only as the overthrow of monarchy,
but as the birth of that liberty which we are taught
to cherish as one of the greatest boons of existence.
The example of Paris extended like an electric shock
to the adjacent countries. Italy, Austria, Prussia,
seemed on the point of emancipating themselves from
the yoke which had bound them for ages. With a
generous sympathy, our countrymen wished success
to these efforts. The formation of a republican gov
ernment seems to us so easy, so obvious a work, that
¦* Mr. Eush, who was then our ambassador to France, proceeded in
his official capacity to the Hotel de Ville, three or four days after the
completion of the revolution, and recognized the government, congratu
lating them upon a change whioh had resulted in the establishment of
& republic.

848 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
we suppose every nation which undertakes the task,
will of course accomplish it. It was natural, there
fore, for an American in Paris to believe that the
good time had actually come, and that the people
had only to inaugurate and establish it. I had
several plans of addresses sent to me founded upon
this idea ; one a declaration of principles, of seven
foolscap pages, drawn up pretty much after the man
ner of our Declaration of Independence. Conceiving
it, however, no time to be magniloquent, I prepared
the following brief address, which was adopted :
" Gentlemen, members of the Provisional Government of the
French People — As citizens of the United States of America, and
spectators of recent events in Paris, we come to offer you our
congratulations. A grateful recoUection of the past, and the ties
of amity whioh have existed between your country and ours,
prompt us to be among the first to testify to you, and to the
people of France, the sympathy, the respect, and the admiration
which those events inspire. Acknowledging the right of every
nation to form its own government, we may stiU be permitted
to felicitate France upon the choice of a system which recognizes
as its basis the great principles of rational liberty and political
equality. " In the progress of the recent struggle here, wt. have admired
the magnanimity of the French people, their self-command in the
hour of triumph, and their speedy return to order and law, after
the tumult and confusion of revolution. We see in these circum
stances, happy omens of good to France and to mankind — assu
rances that what has been so nobly begun will be consummated
in the permanent establishment of a just and liberal government,
and the consequent enjoyment of liberty, peace, and prosperity, ¦
among the citizens of this great country. Accept this testimo-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC 849
nial of the sentiments which fiU our hearts at the present mo
ment, and be assured that the news of the revolution which you
have just achieved, wUl be haUed by our countrymen on the
other side of the Atlantic, with no other emotions than those of
hope and joy for France and for the world."
All things being duly prepared, the Americans,
about two hundred and fifty in number, marched in
procession to the Hotel de Ville, the striped bunting
and the tricolor waving together in harmony over
our heads. The citizens of Paris looked upon us
with welcome, and frequently the cry arose — •" Vive
la Republique Americaine !"*
The Hotel de Ville is one of the most sumptuous
palaces in Europe; and here, in the magnificent
apartment called the Hall of Reception, we were
received by the Provisional Government — all dressed
in their uniform of blue, ornamented with gold lace,
and rich sashes around the waist. Lamartine was ill,
and was not present ; Arago presided. I began to
read the address, in English, when a tipsy French
man, who had squeezed into the hall with the pro-
* The committee on the address, besides myself, were Messrs. Corbin,
of Virginia, Shimmin, of Boston, and the late Henry Coleman, well
known for his agricultural writings, as well as his travels in England
and France.
The president on the occasion was Hon. G. W. Erving, formerly min
ister ofthe United States to Madrid.
The chief marshal was Wright Hawkes, Esq., of New York, assisted
by Robert Wickliffe, Jr., of Kentucky, E. C. Cowden, of Boston, &c.
It is a curious fact, that the Americans in the 4)rocession were several
inches taller than the average of Frenchmen— a circumstance which at
tracted general attention in Paris at the time.

850 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
cession, came forward and insisted that it should be
read in French. He was pacified by being told that
it would be read in that language after I had con
cluded. When the address was- finished, M. Arago
replied on behalf of the government, in appropriate
terms. M. Poussin* then seized the two flags, and
waving them together, pronounced an ar.imated dis
course, in which he acknowledged with g'.-atitude the
sympathy of the Americans in the recent revolution,
and expressed the hope that France had now entered
upon the long-hoped-for millennial era of equality,
fraternity, and liberty.
It is not my design to give you a detailed history of
ihe revolution, but I may sketch a few of the promi
nent events which followed. For this purpose, I make
an extract from an account I have elsewhere given :
For several weeks and raonths, Paris was a scene of extraordi
nary exciteraent. The Provisional Goveruraent had announced
that they would provide the people with labor. Consequently,
deputations of taUors, hatters, engravers, musicians, paviors,
cabinet-makers, seamstresses, and a multitude of other trades
* M. Guillaume Tell Poussin came to the United States many years ago,
and was employed here as au engineer for a long time. After his return
to France, he wrote an able statistical work on this country, iu which hc
highly praised our institutions. "When the French Republic was organ
ized, lie was sent as minister to Washington. Mr. Clayton, Secretary ot
State under Gen. Taylor, took exception to certain expressions used by
M. Poussin in his correspondence with the department, and accordingly
he ceased to represent his country here. M. Poussin is, however, a
sincere republican, and a great admirer of the United States ; and though
his principles are well Jinown, such is the respect entertained for him,
that the suspicion of the French government, even under the empire,
has never subjected him to constraint or annoyance.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, E'rC 851
and vocations, flocked in long lines to the Hotel de ViUe, to
solicit the favor of the government. Vast crowds of people
perpetually haunted this place, and, in one instance, a raging
multitude came thundering at the doors, demanding that the
blood-red flag of the former revolution should be the banner of
the new republic ! It was on this occasion that Lamartine ad
dressed the people, and with such eloquence as to allay the
storm which threatened again to deluge France in blood. The
members of the government were so besieged and pressed by
business, that for several weeks they slept in the Hotel de Ville.
They proceeded with a bold hand to announce and establish the
republic. In order to make a favorable impression upon the
people, they decreed a gorgeous ceremony at the foot of the col
umn of July, on Sunday, February 27th, by which they solemnly
inaugurated the new repubUo. AU the members of the Provis
ional Government were present on horseback ; there were sixty
thousand troops and two htmdred thousand people to witness
the spectacle.
Another stiU more imposing celebration took place on the 4th
of March. This was caUed the " Funeral of the Victims.'' After
religious ceremonies at the Madeleine, the members of the gov
ernment, with a long train of pubUo officers, and an immense
cortege of military, proceeded to the July column, conducting a
superb funeral-car drawn by eight cream-colored horses. This
contained most of the bodies of those slain in the revolution —
about two hundred and flfty. These were deposited in the vault
of the column, with the victims of the revolution of 1830.
Nothing can adequately portray this spectacle. A tricolored
flag was stretched on each side of the Boulevards, from the Ma
deleine to the July coluran — a distance of three railes. As this
consisted of three strips of cloth, the length of the whole waa
eighteen mUes ! The solemn moveraent of the funeral procession,
the dirge-like music, the march of nearly a hundred thousand sol
diers, and the sympathizing presence of three hundred thousand
souls, rendered it a scene never surpassed and rarely equated,

852 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
either by the magnificence of the panorama, or the solemn and
touching sentiraents excited.
StUl other spectacles succeeded, and in the summer four hun
dred thousand people assembled in the Champs Elysees to wit
ness the Presentation of Flags to the asserabled National Guards
¦ — eighty thousand being present. Such scenes can only be wit
nessed in Paris.
Events proceeded with strange rapidity. A Constituent As
sembly was caUed by the Provisional Government, to form a
constitution. The members were elected by ballot, the suffrage
being universal — that is, open to aU Frenchmen over twenty-one.
The election took place in April, and on the 4th of May the first
session was held, being officiaUy announced to the assembled
people from the steps of the Chamber of Deputies. On the IStb
of May a conspiracy was disclosed, the leaders of which weru
EaspaU, Barb^s, Sobrier, Caussidi^re, Blanqui, Flotte, Albert,
and Louis Blanc*— the two last having been members of the
Provisional Government. Caussidifere was prefect of poUce.
The Assembly proceeded in the work of framing a constitution,
administering the government in the mean time. On the 24tli ot
June, a terrific insurrection broke out, promoted by the leaders
of various factions, all desiring the overthrow of the republic
which had been inaugurated. Cavaignao, who was minister of
war, was appointed dictator, and Paris was declared in a state
of siege. The insurgents confined their operations chiefly to the
faubourgs St. Jacques and St. Antoine. They got possession ot
these, and formed skiUful and able plans of operation, whioh had
for their ultimate object the surrounding of the city and getting
possession of certain important points, including the Chamber —
thus securing tbe government in their own hands.
-* These men were Socialists, and aimed at a destruction of the gov
ernment, so that they might bring into «ffeot their peculiar schemes.
They were shortly afterward tried at Bourges, and sentenced to long
imprisonment or banishment. Louis Blanc and Caussidiere escaped to
England. The former remains in London ; the latter is now a wine-
merchant in New York.

853
Cavaignao proceeded to attack the barricades, thus clearing
the streets one by one. The fighting was terrible. For four
days the battle continued, the sound of cannon frequently filling
the ears of the people all over the city. Night and day the in
habitants were shut up in their houses — ignorant of aU, save
that the conflict was raging. The women found employment in
scraping lint for the wounded. AU Paris was a camp. The
windows were closed; the soldier.i and sentinels passed their
watchwords ; litters, carrying the dead and wounded, were seen
along the streets ; the tramp of marching columns and the thun
der of rushing cavalry broke upon the ear !
At last the conflict was over ; the insurgents were beaten —
Cavaignao triumphed. But the victory was dearly purchased.
Between two and three thousand persons were killed — and among
them, no less than seven general oflBcers had fallen. The insur
gents fought like tigers. Many woraen were in the ranks, using
the rausket, carrying the banners, rearing barricades, and cheer
ing the fight. Boys and girls raingled in the conflict. The
National Guards who combated them, had equal courage and
superior discipline. One of the Garde MobUe — Hyacinthe Mar
tin, a youth of fourteen — took tour standards from the tops ot
the barricades. His gallantry excited great interest, and Ca
vaignao decorated him with the cross of the Legion of Honor.
He became a hero of the day, but, sad to relate, being invited to
fetes, banquets, and repasts, his head was turned, and he was
soon a ruined profiigate.
The leaders in this terrific insurrection were never detected.
It is certain that the moveraent was headed by able men, and
directed by skillful engineers. The masses who fought were
roused to fury by poverty and distress, by disappointment at
finding the national workshops discontinued, and by stiraulating
excitements furnished by socialist clubs and newspapers. It is
computed that forty thousand insurgents were in arms, and eighty
thousand government soldiers were brought against them. It
may be considered that this struggle was the remote bnt inevita-

854 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
ble result of the course of the Provisional Government in adopting
the doctrine of obligation, on the part of the State, to supply
work and wages to the people, and in estabhshing national
workshops in pursuance of this idea. StiU, it may be said, on
the other hand, that nothing but such a step could have enabled
the Provisional Government to maintain' itself during three
months, and give being to an organized Assembly from which
a legitimate government could proceed.
The constitution was finished in the autumn, and promulgated
on the 19th of Noveraber, 1848. On the 10th of December fol
lowing, the election of President took place, and it appeared
that Louis Napoleon had five milUon out of seven million votes.
He was duly inaugurated about a week after the election, and
entered upon the high duties which thus devolved upon him.

LETTER LIX.
The Duties ofa Consul— P'ursuit ofa missing Family— Paying for Ex-

My dbak 0 ***** *
Let US now come to the period of 1851, when I
entered upon the consulate. Of the space during
which I was permitted to hold this office, I have no
very remarkable personal incidents to relate. The
certifying of invoices, and the legalizing of deeds
and powers of attorney, are the chief technical duties
of the American Consul at Paris.* If he desires to
¦* Paris Is not a seaport, and therefore the numerous consular duties
connected with shipping are never required here. On the other hand,
it is the literary metropolis of France ; and as French consuls are re
quired to collect and furnish geographical, historical, commercial, and
statistical information, I found myself constantly applied to by editors

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 855
enlarge the circle of his operations, however, he can
find various ways of doing it, as for instance, in sup
plying the wants of distressed Poles, Hungarians, Ital
ians, and others, who are martyrs to liberty, and sup
pose the American heart and purse always open to
those who are thus afflicted : in answering questions
from notaries, merchants, lawyers, as to the laws of the
diflEerent American States upon marriage, inheritance,
of papers, authors, bankers, merchants, government officials, for partic
ular facts in regard to the United States. I was exceedingly struck with
the general ignorance of all classes, as to our country, its institutions,
geography, population, history, <fec. I therefore prepared a work, which,
with the kind assistance of M. Delbriiok, was put into French, and pub
lished — it being an octavo volurae of about three hundred and seventy-
flve pages, entitled Les Etats- Unis WAmerique. I had the gratification of
seeing it well received on all sides, even by the members ofthe govern
ment, from whom I had complimentary acknowledgments. There is, in
deed, a great and growing interest in our country all over Europe, and
it seems to be the duty of American officials abroad to take advantage of
their opportunities to satisfy and gratify this curiosity by furnishing. In
a correct and accessible form, the kind of information that is desired.
The number of Americans in Paris, residents and travelers, varies from
one to three thousand. If the Consul is understood to bar out his coun
trymen, he may see very few of them ; if, on the contrary, he is williug
to make liimself useful in a neighborly way, mahy of them will call upou
him to take his advice as to schools, physicians, routes of travel, and
the like. When there is dif&culty, the Consul is the natural resource ef
his countrymen, especially for those who are without acquaintance. In
case ofthe death of an American, if there is no friend or relative pres
ent upon whom the duty devolves, the Consul gives directions as to the
funeral, and takes charge ofthe effects of the deceased.
I have already alluded to French physicians and surgeons,. and ex
pressed the opinion that ours, in America, are quite as good. There is,
no doubt, great science in the medical and surgical professions of Paris ;
but there are two things to be suggested to those who go there for ad
vice. In the first place, these practitioners are very daring in their treat
ment of strangers, and in the next, their charges to foreigners are usu
ally about double the ordinary rates.
While I was in Paris, a very wealthy and rather aged gentleman frora
Virginia consulted an eminent surgeon there, as to hydrocele. Au op-

ggg LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
and the like ; in advising emigrants whether to settle
in Iowa, or Illinois, or Missouri, or Texas ; in listening
to inquiries made by deserted wives as to where their
errant husbands may be found, who left France ten or
twenty or thirty years ago, and went to America, by
which is generally understood St. Domingo or Mar
tinique. A considerable business may be done in lend
ing money to foreigners, who pretend to have been
naturalized in the United States, and are therefore en
titled to consideration and sympathy, it being of course
well understood that money lent to such persons will
never be repaid. Some time and cash may also be
invested in listening to the stories and contribu-
,ting to the wants of promising young American art
ists, who are striving to get to Italy, to pursue their
studies — such persons usually being graduates of the
London school of artful dodgers. Some waste lei
sure and a good deal of postage may be disposed of
in correspondence with ingenious Americans — invent
ors and discoverers — as for instance, with a man in
Arkansas or Minnesota, who informs you that he has
eration was recommended and performed, entirely against the advice of
a Virginia physician who chanced to be in Paris, and was consulted.
In thirty days the gentleman died. He had intrusted his affairs to me,
and I paid his bills. The charge ofthe surgeon was five thousand francs 1
The bills of the nurses, hotels, attendants, &c., were of a similar char
acter. A young physician, who had been employed fourteen days as
nurse, estimated his services at fifteen hundred francs ! I make these
remarks, that my countrymen going to Paris for medical or surgical ad
vice, may be duly warned against placing themselves in the hands of
rash and unprincipled practitioners. A great name in Paris is by no
means a guarantee of that care, prudence, aud oonsoientiousness, whioh
bolong to the physician at home.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 857
pontrived a new and infallible method of heating and
ventilating European cities, and wishes it brought to
the notice o*f the authorities there, it being deemed
the duty of the American Consul to give attention to
such matters. These monotonies are occasionally di
versified by a letter from some unfortunate fellow-
countryman who is detained at Mazas or Clichy, and
begs to be extricated ; or some couple who wish to be
put under the bonds of wedlock, or some enterprising
wife, all the way from Tennessee, in chase of a run
away husband, or some inexperienced but indignant
youth who has been fleeced by his landlord.
Mixed up with these amusements, there sometimes
comes an order from the government at home, to ob
tain a certain document, or to give information as to
some institution, or perhaps to make some investiga
tion. The following copy of a letter to the State De
partment at Washington describes an instance of the
latter : Paeis, February 10, 1853.
To Hon. Edwabd Everett, Secretary of State.
^jj. — Your letter of the 30th December, inclosing one from
Hon. Jeremiah Clemens, asking information as to the family of
Andr6 Hentz, was duly received.
Soon after its receipt, I proceeded to No. 9, Eue St. Appoline,
Paris, the last known residence of Madame Hentz, but I could
obtain no traces of her or her family. I then wrote to the Mayor
of Conflans St. Honorine, where she once lived, and received a
reply which directed me to make inquiry at the neighboring vU
lage of Grenelle. Thither I proceeded, and applied as advised,
to No. 5 Kue Fondry. Here I faUed, but was led to suppose

858 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
that I might get a clew at No. 115 Eue VieiUe du Temple,
Paris. I returned thither, and on appUcation at the place in
dicated, was told that no person by the name of Hentz had ever
lived there. On going out, I observed that the numbering over
the door was freshly painted, and soon discovered that the
whole numbering of the street had recently been changed. I
now sought the old No. 115, and was here informed that I
raight perhaps flnd the person I was looking after at No. 6 Eue
Thorigny. I proceeded thither, but was informed that M. Hentz
was not there, but perhaps raight be found at No. 4. FinaUy,
at No. 4, on the fifth story, I found Henry Hentz and his
mother, in rather humble but very neat apartments, and appa
rently in comfortable circumstances. I told them the object of
my visit, and they promised immediately to write to Mr. Andre
Hentz, of whom they had lost all trace, and of whom they were
rejoiced to receive inteUigence.
I write these particulars, supposing they may be interesting
to Mr. Clemens's client.
I ara, with great respect, yours, &c.,
S. G. GoODEIOH.
Another incident may amuse you. I one day re
ceived a number of a Journal published in Paris, en
titled " Archives des Hommes du Jour," that is,
Memoirs of Men of the Time, accompanied by a
polite note saying that the editors would be happy to
insert in their pages a biographical memoir of myself.
They had taken the liberty to sketch the beginning
of the desired article, but the particular facts of my
life they politely begged me to supply.
Supposing this to be one of those applications
which are by no means uncommon, I handed to my
friend, M. Jules Delbriick, the letter, with two or

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 859
three American books, which contained notices of
myself, and asked him to write the memoir as de
sired. This he did, and it was duly sent to the edit
ors of the Hommes du Jour. In due time a proof
was sent, and at the same time one of the editors, a
very smiling gentleman, came and desired to knoAV
how many copies of this memoir of myself I should
-desire ! I replied, very innocently, that I should
like one or two. The gentleman lifted his eyebrows,
and said suggestively —
" Five hundred is the usual number !"
I now for the first time began to suspect a trap,
and replied —
" You expect me to take five hundred copies?"
" Every gentleman takes at least that ; sometimes
a thousand." " And you expect me to pay for them ?"

" Oui, monsieur !"

" Well, how much do you expect for five hundred
copies ?"
" A franc each is the usual price ; but we will say
three hundred and fifty francs for the whole."
" I understand you now : I furnished the article in
question at your request ; it was for your benefit, not
mine. It is of no advantage to me. If you expected
to be paid for it, you should have told me so ; you
would then have been saved the trouble of pursuing
the matter any further."
The stranger remonstrated, but I firmly refused to

860 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
give Jhim an order for any copies of the publication
in question.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 861

LETTEE LX.
Character of the French Republic— Its Contrast with the American Repub
lic—Aspect of the Government in France— Louis Napoleon's ambitious
Designs— He Flatters the Army— Spreads Rumors of Socialist Plots-
Divisions in the National Assembly— A Levee at the Elysee — The Coup
d'Etat — Character of this Act-^ Napoleon's Government — Feelings ofthe

Mt dbak c ******
From the memoranda famished in my prece
ding letter, you will comprehend the duties which
devolve upon the American Consul at Paris, and will
have glimpses of some of the particular incidents
which befell me while I was there in that capacity.
I must now give you a rapid sketch of certain public
events which transpired at that period, and which
will ever be regarded as among the most remarkable
in modern history.
I have told you how Louis Napoleon, in conse
quence of the Eevolution of 1848, became President
of the Republic. When I arrived in Paris, in April,
1851, he was ofi&ciating in that capacity, his residence
being the little palace of the Elysee Bourbon, situated
between the Faubourg St. Honore and the Champs
Elysees. The National Assembly, consisting of sev
en hundred and fifty members, held their sessions at
the building called the Chamber of Deputies.* The
¦* The National Assembly held its sessions in a temporary building
erected in the courtyard of the Chamber of Deputies, proper. Thia
21*

862 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
government had been in operation somewhat over
two years.
At this period France was a republic, but you will
not understand that its government bore any great
resemblance to our own, save in name. The Consti
tution had indeed been framed by a Convention,
called a Constituent Assembly, chosen for that pur
pose by the people : this had been submitted to them
and ratified by them ; and furthermore, the members
of the executive and legislative departments had all
been elected by general suffrage. The government,
therefore, rested upon the principle of popular sov
ereignty, but still, it was without those checks and
balances belonging to our system, and to which we
attribute its success. Ours is a Federal Eepublic,
a union of States, each a distinct, independent, and
sovereign power, save only as to national matters,
which are given over to the charge of a General
Government. This cantonal arrangement, which is
the great bulwark of our liberty, was wholly want
ing in the French Constitution. All the powers of
government — legislative and executive — for the en
tire kingdom, were centralized at Paris. There were
QO safeguards interposed between this supreme, un
checked authority, and the people, and the result
showed that this defect was fatal. Our general gov-
was popularly called Pasteboard Hall. Louis Napoleon ordered it to
be demolished soon after the promulgation of his Constitution, son-e
weeks subsequent to the Coup d'Etat.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 863
ernment may attempt usurpation, but it will imme
diately be arrested by the State governments ; our
general government may go to pieces, but the fabric
of State government remains to shelter the people
from anarchy. Our legislative department is further
more divided into two bodies — the House and the
Senate, and these operate as checks upon each other.
Unhappily, the French system had neither of these
provisions, and as the republic had swallowed up
despotism, so despotism in turn speedily devoured
the republic.
To the casual observer, the external aspect of things
was not very different from what it had been under
the monarchy of Louis Philippe. It is true that the
palace of the Tuileries was vacant ; no royal coaches
were seen dashing through the avenues ; no image
and superscription of majesty frowned upon you from
the public monuments, which, on the contrary, every
where proclaimed " liberty, equality, fraternity." But
still, the streets were filled with soldiers as before.
Armed sentinels were stationed at the entrances of
all the public buildings. The barracks were as usual
swarming with soldiers, and large masses of horse
and foot were frequently trained at the Champ de
Mars and at Satory. Martial reviews and exercises
were, indeed, the chief amusement of the metropolis.
The President's house was a palace, and all around it
was bristling with bayonets. It was obvious that what
ever name the government might bear, militar}^ force

864 LETTEES — BIOGKAPHICAL,
lay at the bottom of it, and if to-day this might be
its defense, to-morrow it might also be its overthrow.
It is now ascertained that Louis Napoleon, from
the -beginning, had his mind fixed upon the restora
tion of the empire. In accepting the presidency of
the republic, and even in swearing fidelity to the
Constitution, he considered himself only as mount
ing the steps of the imperial throne. The French
have so long been accustomed to military despotism,
that they have qo idea of government without it. The
people there have not the habit, so universal with us,
of obeying the law, through a sense of right ; they
must always have before them the cannon and the
bayonet, to enforce obedience. The framers of the
new Constitution, either having no conception of a
government unsupported by an army, or having no
faith that the French nation would observe laws rest
ing only upon moral obligation, gave to the chief
magistrate the actual command of a large body of
troops. With a view to prepare them to serve him,
in time of need, the President flattered the of&cers
and cajoled the men in various ways, even ordering
them in one instance to be served with champagne !
In order to prepare thg nation for the revolution
whichhe meditated, Louis Napoleon caused agitating
and alarming rumors to be circulated, ofa terrible plot,
planned by the democrats, republicans, and socialists
of France, the object of which was to overturn the
whole fabric of society, to destroy religion, to sweep

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 865
away the obligations of marriage, to strip the rich
of their property, and make a general distribution of
it among the masses. Other conspiracies, having sim
ilar designs, were said to exist in all the surrounding
countries of Europe, and the time was now near at
hand when the fearful explosion would take place.
The police of France, subject to the control and di
rection of the President, were instructed to discover
evidences of this infernal plot, and they were so suc
cessful, that the public mind was filled with a vague
but anxious apprehenpion that society was reposing
upon a volcano, which might soon burst forth and
overwhelm the whole country in chaos.
The National Assembly conducted in a manner to
favor these deep, sinister schemes of the President.
They were divided into four or five factions, and
spent their time chiefly in angry disputes and selfish
intrigues. A portion of them were monarchists, and
though they had acquired their seats by pledges of
devotion to the republic, they were now plotting its
overthrow, a part being for the restoration of the
Orleanists and a part for the Bourbons. Another fac
tion was for Louis Napoleon, and actively promoted
his schemes. By the Constitution he was ineligible
for a second term, and his friends were seeking the
means of overcoming this dif&culty, and giving him
a re-election, by fair means or foul. The liberals
were divided into several shades of opinion, some
being republicans, after the model of General Ca-

866 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
vaignac ; some being democrats, like Victor Hugo ;
and some socialists, after the fashion of Pierre Le-
roux. In such a state of things, there was a vast
deal of idle debate, while the substantial interests of
the country seemed, if not totally forgotten, at least
secondary to the interests of parties, and the passions
and prejudices of individuals.
Thus, although France was a republic, it was ob
vious that the government had fallen into selfish
hands, and must perish. Louis Napoleon was only
waiting a favorable moment to enter upon his schemes
for its destruction. His plans rapidly advanced to
maturity. The terror he had excited of.a grand so
cialist convulsion, naturally prepared the people of
property to look with favor upon any strong arm
that might save them from such a catastrophe ; the
people at large, even the masses, the friends of the
republic, were disgusted at the useless discussions,
frothy declamations, and factious intrigues of the
Assembly. Louis Napoleon watched his opportu
nity, and at last, every thing seeming to favor his
scheme, he entered upon it with a degree of boldness
which has few parallels in history.
I remember that on a certain Monday evening, the
1st of December, 1852, I was present at the Elysee,
and was then first introduced to Louis Napoleon. I
found him to be an ordinary-looking person, rather
under size, but well formed, having a large nose,
ratber large fishy eyes, and a dull expression. The

867
room was tolerably full, the company consisting, aa
is usual in such cases, of diplomats, military of&cers,
and court officials, with a sprinkling of citizens in
black coats — for hitherto the requisition of a court
uniform had not been imposed. This, you will re
member, was under the Republic; the rule which
raised the black coat to a question of state, grew out
of the Empire. Nevertheless, I was forcibly struck
by the preponderance of soldiers in the assembly,
and I said several times to my companions, that it
seemed more like a camp than a palace. The whole
scene was dull ; the President himself appeared preoc
cupied, and was not master of his usual urbanity ;
Gen. Magnan walked from room to room with a ru
minating air, occasionally sending his keen glances
around, as if searching for something which he could
not find. There was no music, no dancing. That
gayety which almost always pervades a festive party
in Paris, was wholly wanting. There was no ringing
laughter, no merry hum of conversation. I noticed
all this, but I did not suspect the cause. At eleven
o'clock the assembly broke up, and the guests de
parted. At twelve, the conspirators, gathered for
their several tasks, commenced their operations.
About four in the morning, the leading members of
the Assembly were seized in their beds, and hurried
to prison. Troops were distributed at various points,
so as to secure the city. When the light of day
came, proclamations were posted at the corners of the

868 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Streets announcing to the citizens that the National
Assembly was dissolved, that universal suffrage was
decreed, that the Republic was established! Such
was the general unpopularity of the Assembly, that
the first impression of the people was that of delight
at its overthrow. Throughout the first day, the
streets of Paris were like a swarming hive, filled
with masses of people, yet for the most part in good-
humor. The second day they had reflected, and be
gan to frown, but yet there was no general spirit of
revolt. A few barricades were attempted, but the
operators were easily dispersed. The third day came,
and although there was some agitation among the
masses, there was evidently no preparation, no com
bination for general resistance. As late as ten o'clock
in the forenoon, I met one of the republicans whom I
knew, and asked him what was to be done. His re
ply was :
" We can do nothing : our leaders are in prison ;
we are bound hand and foot. I am ready to give my
life at the barricades, if with the chance of benefit ;
but I do not like to throw it away. We can do
nothing!" Soon after this, I perceived heavy columns of
troops, some four thousand men, marching through
the Rue de la Paix, and then proceeding along the
Boulevards toward the Porte St. Denis. These were
soon followed by a body of about a thousand horse
I was told that similar bodies were moving to the

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 869
same point through other avenues of the city. In a
short time the whole Boulevard, from the Rue de la
Paix to the Place de la Bastille, an extent of two
miles, was filled with troops. My office was on the
Boulevard des Italiens, and was now fronted by a
dense body of lancers, each man with his cocked
pistol in his hand. Except the murmur of the horses'
hoofs, there was a general stillness over the city. The
sidewalks were filled with people, and though there
was no visible cause for alarm, there was still a vague
apprehension which cast pallor and gloom upon the
faces of all.
Suddenly a few shots were heard in the direction
of the Boulevard Montmartre, and then a confused
hum, and soon a furious clatter of hoofs. A moment
after, the whole body of horse started into a gallop,
and rushed by as if in flight ; presently they halted,
however, wheeled slowly, and gradually moved back,
taking up their former position. The men looked
keenly at the houses on either side, and pointed
their pistols threateningly at all whom they saw at
the windows. It afterward appeared, that when the
troops had been drawn out in line and stationed
along the Boulevard, some half dozen shots were
fired into them from the tops of buildings and from
windows ; this created a sudden panic ; the troops
ran, and crowding upon others, caused the sudden
movement I have described. In a few moments,
the heavy, sickening sound of muskets came from

870 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
the Porte St. Denis. Volley succeeded volley, and
after some time the people were seen rushing madly
along the pavements of the Boulevard as if to escape.
The gate of our hotel was now closed, and at the
earnest request of the throng that had gathered for
shelter in the court of the hotel, I put out the " Stars
and Stripes" — the first and last time that I ever
deemed it necessary. The dull roar of muskets, with
the occasional boom of cannon, continued at intervals
for nearly half an hour. Silence at last succeeded,
and the people ventured into the streets.
About four in the afternoon, I walked for a mile
along the Boulevard. The pavements were strewn
with the fragments of shattered windows, broken
cornices, and shivered doorways. Many of the build
ings, especially those on the southern side of the
street, were thickly spattered with bullet-marks, espe
cially around the windows. One edifice wa:5 riddled
through and through with cannon-shot. Frequent
spots of blood stained the sidewalk, and along the
Boulevard Montmartre, particularly around the door
ways, there were pools like those of the shambles;
it being evident that the reckless soldiers* had shot
down in heaps the fugitives who, taken by surprise,
* The soldiers fired upon all they saw iu the streets. An old woman
going along with a loaf of bread, had a bullet put through her; au
apotliecary, who ventured to appear at his door, instantly received a
ball in his forehead. Files of soldiers poured their volleys upon the
innocent people passing along the Boulevard; shots were fired at the
windows of private houses; seven persons were killed in a bookseller's
shop. One of my friends saw seventeen dead bodies in one gutter.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 871
Strove to obtain shelter at the entrances of the hotels
upon the street. It was a sight to sicken the heart,
especially of an American, who is not trained to
these scenes of massacre. Toward evening a portion
of the troops moved away; the rest remained, and
bivouacked in the streets for the night. At ten
o'clock, I again visited the scene, and was greatly
struck with the long line of watch-fires, whose fitful
lights, reflected by dark groups of armed men, only
rendered the spectacle more ghastly and gloomy.
Of the whole number killed in Paris during this,
the third day of the Coup d'Etat, we have no certain
account : it is generally estimated at from one thou
sand to fifteen hundred. I have told you that the
press was , silenced, save two or three papers, which
told the whole story so as' to justify the conduct of
Louis Napoleon. These represented that the Na
tional Assembly were plotting for his overthrow by
violent means, and thus would make it appear that
his conduct was not only justifiable as an act of
self-preservation, but necessary in view of the public
good. It is important to state, however, that al
though the agents of the usurper seized upon the
papers of the suspected members at their own houses,
and at a moment of surprise, no sufficient proofs have
yet been adduced of the alleged treason of the Assem-
These persons thus slaughtered were not rioters, working at barricades ;
they were mostly gentlemen, and hence it was called the massacre of
the "kid gloves." The soldiers had undoubtedly been stimulated by
liquor to quaUfy them to perform this work of butchery. ,

873 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
bly. The apologists ofthe Coup d'Etat have further
declared that the massacre along the Boulevards
which I have described, was a measure of stern ne
cessity, in order to repress the insurgent socialists.
The fact seems rather to be that it was a cool and
calculated slaughter of innocent persons, in order to
show the power and spirit of the Dictator, and to
strike with paralyzing fear those who should venture
to oppose him.
The morning came, and the triumph of the reign
of terror was complete. What was enacted in Paris,
was imitated all over France. Nearly every depart
ment was declared in a state of siege; revolt was
punished with death, and doubt or hesitation with
imprisonment. Forty thousand persons were hurried
to the dungeons, without even the form or pretense of
trial. All over the country the press was silenced, as
it had been in Paris, save only a few obsequious prints,
which published what was dictated to them. These
declared that all this bloodshed and violence were
the necessary result of the socialist conspiracy, which
threatened to overturn society ; happily, as they con
tended, Louis Napoleon, like a beneficent providence,
had crushed the monster, and he now asked the
people to ratify what he had done, by making him
President for ten years. In the midst of agitation,
delusion, and panic, the vote was taken, and the
usurpation was legalized by a vote of eight millions
of suffrages ! The nominal Republic, but real Die-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 873
tatorship, thus established, was soon made to give
way to the Empire ; the ambitious plotter reached the
imperial throne, and now stands before the world as
Napoleon III. !
It is impossible for us Americans to look upon the
conduct of the chief actor in this startling drama,
but with reprobation. We regard constitutions, rat
ified by the people, as sacred ; we consider oaths to
support them as pledges of character, faith, honor,
truth — all that belongs to manhood. We look upon
blood shed for mere ambition, as murder. The Amer
ican people must be totally changed in religion, mor
als, feelings, and political associations, before they
could cast their votes for a ruler whose lips were
stained with perjury, and whose hands were red
with the slaughter of their fellow-citizens. But the
French nation is of a different moral constitution ;
their tastes, experience, souvenirs, are all different.
They are accustomed to perfidy on the part of their
rulers; violence and crime, wrought for ambition,
have stained the paths of every dynasty that has ruled
over them for a space of fourteen centuries. France
is trained to these things, and hence the public taste,
the prevailing sentiments of society, are not greatly
shocked at them. The people there do not reckon
with a successful usurper as they would with an or
dinary man acting in the common business of life ;
when they see him installed in the Tuileries they
forget his treacheries and his massacres — the means

874 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
by which he attained his power — and cry "Vive
I'Empeieur!" Even the Church now looks upon
Louis Napoleon's conduct with approbation, and
burns incense and sings Te Deums in bis behalf, as
the savior of religion, family, society.
And it must be admitted that, since his acquisi
tion of a throne, Louis Napoleon has conducted the
government with ability, and he has certainly been
seconded by fortune. He married a lady who, after
becoming an empress, shed luster upon her high
position by her gentle virtues and gracious manners.
He engaged in the Eastern War, and has triumphed.
He has greatly improved and embellished the capital,
and made Paris the most charming city in the world ;
nowhere else does life seem to flow on so cheerfully
and so tranquilly as here. He has gradually softened
the rigors of his government — and though some noble
spirits still pine in exile,'* he has taken frequent ad-
* The number of individuals exiled by the Coup d'Etat amounted to
several thousands — some of the more obnoxious persons being sent to
Cayenne, Nonkahiva, and Lambessa in Algeria. Others were only
banished from France ; a portion of these have since had permission to
return. Among those still excluded is Victor Hugo, no doubt the most
eloquent writer and orator now living. He has continued to make the
island of Jersey his residence. Two other exiles of some note are
Ledru EoUin and Louis Blanc, members ofthe Provisional Government
and whose misconduct contributed largely to the overthrow of tlie re
public. These have remained in England. Lamoriciere, Changarnier,
Charras, and Bedeau, all distinguished ofdcers, are in Belgium or
Germany. Cavaignao, who was imprisoned with other members of the Assem
bly, was speedily released. He is believed to be a sound republican,
somewhat according to our American ideas. He is permitted to reside
in France, but takes uo part in publi", affairs. Lamartine, a fine poet,

HIS'TOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 875
vantage of opportunity to diminish the number. The
people of France, at the present time, appear to be
satisfied with the government, and probably a very
large majority, could the question be proposed to
them, would vote for its continuance.
Beneath this smooth and tranquil surface there
may be, and no doubt is, a smouldering fire of dis
content, and which will seek the first opportunity to
explode. Louis Napoleon rules only by the vigorous
and watchful power of despotism, and it is not in the
nature of the French people to endure this for a long
period of time. The existing empire can hardly be
perpetuated beyond the life of him who has created
it ; indeed, its present strength lies much more in the
fear of anarchy, which is certain to follow if that be
removed, than from any love for the system itself, or
of him who has imposed it upon the country.
a captivating orator, an elegant writer, and withal a mau whose heart is
full of every noble sentiment, escaped the indignity of imprisonment,
and he too is allowed to live in his native land. But his lips are sealed
as to every political question, and his only communication with his
countrymen and with mankind is through literature, carefully divested
of every thought and feeling pertaining to current politics. Every au
thor in France, indeed, wears a muzzle whioh only permits him to
breathe snch thoughts as cannot offend ihe powers that be.

876 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,

LETTER LXI.
Meeting in Paris to commemorate the Death qf Clay and Webster — TerrrA-
nation of my Consular Duties — Character of the French Nation — Tht
Black-coat Oireular.
My deae q******
As this chapter must bring me to the end of my
residence in Paris, you will permit me to crowd into
it a variety of topics, without regard to chronological
order or continuity of narrative.
In the autumn of 1852, the news came that Daniel
Webster was no more. Under any circumstances,
the decease of such a person would cause a deep and
pervading emotion, but the manner of Mr. Webster's
death imparted to it a peculiar degree of interest.
The closing scene was, in fact, appropriate to his
character, his noble person, his gigantic intellect, his
great fame. It was remarked by an eminent states
man in England, that Mr. Webster's was the most
sublime death of modern times. The European pa
pers were filled with details of the event. The
Americans in Paris, on hearing the tidings, deemed
it proper to assemble for the purpose of giving ex
pression to their emotions. As Mr. Clay had died
only a few months before, it was resolved at the same
time to pay due homage to his memory.
The meeting, consisting of several hundred persons,
mostiy Americans, was held in the splendid salon of

HISTOEICAL, ANECDO'nCAL, ETC. 877
the Cercle des Deux Mondes, Boulevard Montmartre.
Mr. Rives, our minister, made an eloquent and touch
ing address, delineating the remarkable qualities of
these two men, and comparing Mr. Clay to the Mis
sissippi, which spreads its fertilizing waters over the
boundless regions of the West, and Mr. Webster to
the resistiess Niagara, emptying seas at a plunge, and
shaking all around with its echoing thunders. Mr.
Barnard, our minister to the Court of Berlin, paid a
full and hearty tribute to the memory of Mr. Webster;
he was followed by Mr. George Wood, of New York,
and Franklin Dexter, of Boston, who also made el
oquent and feeling addresses. M. Bois Lecompte,
former minister of France to the United States, and
well acquainted with the two great men whose death
we had met to commemorate, closed with a beautiful
eulogy upon each.
In the summer of 1853, 1 was politely advised from
the State Department that President Pierce had ap
pointed my successor in the consulate. Thus, having
held the place a little over two years, on the 1st of
August, 1853,'* I was restored to the privileges of
* I shall, I trust, be excused for inserting in a note the following,
which I take from Galignani's Paris Messenger of December 15th, 1854:
Me. Gooueich, the late Consul of the UNiTEn States of Ameeica at
Paris. — The Americans in Paris lately presented to Mr. Goodrich a
medallion executed in vermeil, by the distinguished artist, Adam-Salo
mon, with the following inscription encircling an admirable portrait of
the consul, in relief —
" To S. G. Goodrich, Consul of the United States of America at Pa/ris,
presented by his countrymen in that City, August 1st, 1853."

878 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
private citizen life. As I had various engagements
which forbade me immediately to leave France, I
hired a small house-in Courbevoie, which I made my
residence till my departure for America in the sum
mer of 1855.
This naturally brings me to the close of my story.
The following correspondence, which took place between the parties,
is creditable to all concerned ; "Paeis, September 5th, 1854.
" To S. G. GoouKioH, Esq.—
" It is my very agreeable duty to present you, herewith, a medal
lion, executed at the request ofa number of your American friends at
Paris. It is destined alike as a token of personal respect, and an expres
sion of the universal gratification among your countrymen at the manner
in whioh you discharged your duties while consul of the United States
here. Not content with a merely formal fulfillment of your official obli
gations, you made your position eminently agreeable and useful to your
countrymen, and at the same time rendered it subservient to thc best
interests of our common country. On these points there is but one
opinion; and, therefore, in making this ofli'ering, in behalf of your nu
merous friends, I am instructed to add their congratulations that noth
ing can deprive you of the good-will and good opinion so legitimately
obtained. I am, sir, respectfully yours,
"FEANCIS WARDEN."
" Paeis, September 16th, 1854.
"My Dear Sir: — I have this day had the pleasure of receiving your
letter, with the accompanying testimonial of personal regard and appro
bation of my official cond act, presented by you in behalf of my American
friends in Paris. I need not say that I receive these unexpected tokens
of kindness with great satisfaction, rendered doubly gratifying by the
fact that they come when all know that I have only the hurable thanks
of a private citizen to give in return. While 1 thus acknowledge and
cherish the compliment my friends have paid me, I feel bound to sny
that I had been already compensated for any personal sacrifices I had
made to obligations lying beyond the mere routine of official duty, while
I held the consulate in Paris. During that period, a space of little over
two years, more than five hundred letters of introduction were presented
to me, and I received at my house several thousands of my countrymen,
strangers in this city ; yet the instances were extremely rare in which an
American trespassed either upon my time or my feelings. On the con-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 879
SO far as it relates to France. Were it pertinent to
my design, I should give you some sketches of the
French people — of . their character and manners,
which, in their minuter shadings, are not well ap
preciated in the United States. We readily compre
hend England and the English people, because their
language, their institutions, their genius, are similar
to our own ; but in France we find a different lan
guage, a different religion, different institutions — in
short, a different civilization. In England, Sunday
is a holy day, in France a holiday, and this fact is a
sort of index to the difference between these two
countries in regard to opinion, society, life. In Eng
land, the future exercises a powerful influence over
the mind ; in France, it is thought best to enjoy the
present ; England would improve the world, France
would embellish it; England founds colonies, plants
nations, establishes the useful arts; France refines
manners, diffuses the fine arts, and spreads taste and
elegance over Christendom. In England the people
live in separate buildings, apart from one another, each
man claiming that his house is his castle ; in France,

trary, I was day by day more than rewarded for any services rendered,
by the agreeable intercourse of persons so universally intelligent, so little
requiring, and so instinctively perceiving and observing the proprieties
of every situation in which they were placed. I take great pleasure in
recording a fact so creditable to our countrymen, even though it may
deprive me of all claims to the merits which the kindness of my friends
assigns to my conduct. I have the honor to be,
" With great respect, yours, &c.,
" Feahois Wakden, Esq. " S. G. GOODRICH."

880 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
they live congregated in hotels, one family above
another, like the different layers of honeycomb in
a hive. The Englishman finds his chief happiness at
his fireside, the Frenchman in the sympathy of con
gregated masses. In England, the best points of
the people are seen in the domestic circle ; in France,
in the salon. In all these things, English ideas are
germain to our own, and hence we readily under
stand them, enter into them, appreciate them. As to
France, it is otherwise ; words there have a different
sense, things a different use from that we are accus
tomed to, and hence, in order to understand the ge
nius of the French nation and to do full justice to it,
it is necessary to consider them from their point of
view. After all that has been said and done, a work
describing French society, manners, and institutions,
is still a desideratum. This can not be supplied by
the hasty sketches of racing travelers ; it must be the
work of a laborious and careful student, who unites
experience and observation to a large and liberal
philosophy, which on the one hand can resist the
artifices of taste and the blandishments of luxury,
and on the other, appreciate good things, even
though they may not bear the patent-mark of his
own prepossessions. Of course, you will not expect
me to begin such a work in the closing pages of these
fugitive letters.'*
* I had intended to say a few words in respect to the leading liter
ary persons of France, at the present day, but in entering upon the

ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 881
I duly received your letter asking my opinion upon
the "black-coat question." Mr. Marcy's celebrated
circular respecting diplomatic and consular costume
was not issued, or at least did not reach me, till
after I had ceased to exercise the consular functions ;
nevertheless, as I had some opportunity to form a
subject I find it too extensive. I may, however, name in a single par
agraph, Alexandre Dumas, whose versatility, fecundity, and capacity
for labor are without parallel, and whose genius has placed him at the
head of living novelists and dramatists, in spite of his notorious charla
tanry and love of publicity ; Adolphe Dumas, his son, whose three plays
illustrative of the manners of equivocal society and of the life of aban
doned women has made him rich at the age of thirty-one — a fact very
suggestive as to the state of Parisian society ; Lamartine, whose humble
apartments in the Rue de la Ville I'Eveque are constantly filled with the
admiring friends ofthe impoverished poet and the disowned politician ;
Alphonse Karr, whose caustic satires upon vice, folly, and prevalent
abuses, published once a week, have made him a valuable reformer;
Ampere, the traveler and linguist, whose work upon the United States is
perhaps the most just that has yet been written by a foreigner ; Emile de
Girardin, whose innovation in editorial writing — consisting of the con
stant recurrence ofthe alinea, or paragraph, each one of whioh contains a
distinct proposition, deduced from the previous one and leading directly
to that which follows — was one ofthe features of the Presse which pro
duced its immense popularity ; Scribe, the indefatigable playwright and
librettist ; Mery, the poet-laureate or court poetaster; Ponsard, whose two
comedies inverse, " L' Honneur etl'Argent" and "La Bourse," are rap
idly carrying him to a chair in the Academy; Beranger, hale and active
at the age of seventy-six, and the most popular man in France ; Gustave
Planche, the critic and the terror of authors; Jules Janin, the dramatic
critic, whose long labors have been totally unproductive of good to either
actor or dramatist; Madame de Girardin— recently deceased— whose
one act drama of " La Joie fait Peur" is the most profound piece of
psychological dissection in existence ; and Madame Dudevant, alias
George Sand, whose power of painting the finer and more hidden
emotions ofthe soul is unrivaled.
I must add a word in respect to Madame Ristori, the Italian tragedienne
who has recently caused suoh a thrill of excitement in Paris. She is in
nothing more remarkable than in her contrast to Eaohel. The latter is
the pupil of art, the former of nature. Rachel always plays the same part
in the same manner. Every tone, every gesture is studied profoundly.

883 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
judgment of the measure, I freely give you my im
pressions upon the subject.
You understand that the State Department, at dif
ferent periods, has made certain regulations in re
spect to the diplomatic and consular service, so far
even as to prescribe their official dress. The main
body of these rules, as they had existed for many
years, was drawn up, I believe, by Mr. Livingston,
while Secretary of State under Gen. Jackson. The
diplomatic dress consisted of a blue coat and blue pan
taloons decorated with gold embroidery, and a white
waistcoat. It had a general resemblance to the diplo
matic costume of other countries, though it was of
the simplest form. The consular dress was similar,
though the naval button of the United States was
prescribed, and the whole costume had a sort of naval
air. Diplomats and consuls wore smaU swords,, but
no epaulets.
Nevertheless, Mr. Marcy, soon after his accession to
the State Department, under President Pierce, issued
a circular requiring consuls to give up these costumes
altogether ; as to diplomats, it was recommended,
though not enjoined, that they should appear before
and always comes in at the same time and place. Eistori enters into
the play with her whole soul, and acts as her feelings dictate. She is of
somewhat light complexion, with hazel eyes aud brown hair ; she has
correct features, and off the stage is of grave, lady-lik*i manners and ap
pearance. On the stage she seems to work miracles. I have seen her in
Marie Stuart, while on her knees at confession, by p slight continued
movement upward make the audience feel as if she were actually as
cending to heaven, personally and before their eyes !

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 883
foreign courts in simple black. This was urged on
the ground that plainness of attire was proper to
the representatives of a republic, and it was to be re
gretted that we had ever departed from the simplicity
adopted by Dr. Franklin in appearing before the
court of Louis XVI.
It would seem that these are very narrow grounds
for a departure from the usages of the civilized
world, our own government among the number, and
in which Jefferson and Monroe, Adams and Jay,
Ellsworth and King, had participated. All these,
aye and Dr. Franklin'* too, notwithstanding the cur
rent notion that he forced his Quaker clothes upon
the court of Louis XVL, wore their court costume,
simply because custom required it. There is no
doubt that they were more respected, and served
their country with more effect than they would have
done, had they insisted upon shocking the public
* It is said, and I believe truly, that Dr. Franklin's appearance at
the court of Louis XVI. in a plain suit of drab cloth, and whioh for a
brief space intoxicated the giddy beau monde of Paris, was accidental :
his court suit not arriving in time, and the king, who waited anxiously
to receive him, requesting that he would come as ho was. Whether this
was so or not, I believe there is no doubt that Dr. Franklin afterward
adopted a court suit, consisting of a black velvet embroidered coat, and
black small-elothea, with a small sword. Dr. Franklin was a man of
too much sense to undertake to shock established tastes by an offensive
departure from what was esteemed propriety. All the portraits of him
taken while he was cur ambassador at the French court, show that he
was accustomed to dress handsomely. I have a copy of one by Greuze,
which represents him in a green silk dressing-gown, edged with fur, a
light-colored satin waistcoat, with a friU at the bosom. Such a dress,
for an elderly gentleman in his study, wquld now-a-days be considered
almost foppish.

884 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
taste by what would have been deemed an indecorum
if not an indecency — that is, appearing in common
clothes on occasions in which etiquette demanded a
special and appropriate attire.
As to the assumption that simplicity of attire is
characteristic of republicans, I think there is less
of reason in it than of cant. It happens that the
particular form of our government excludes all dis
tinctions of rank, and hence the badges which desig
nate these, would be without meaning among us.
But with this single exception, we in the United
States are as much given to display in dress and
equipage as any other people on the globe. We have
our military and naval costumes, and these are among
the richest in the world : foppery is one of the noto
rious qualities of all our militia companies. Both our
men and women think more of display in dress than
those of other nations. When our people get to Eu
rope, they distinguish themselves by going to the
height of fashion in aU things. At the court introduc
tions in Paris, I always remarked that the Americans
— men as well as women — were more sumptuouslj'-,
and it may be added, more tastefully, attired than
most others. Even at the new imperial court of Paris,
the American ladies not only stood first in point ot
beauty, but also in the display of mantles, trains, and
diamonds. New Orleans, Virginia, Pennsylvania,
New York, Boston, had each its representative, and
splendid specimens they were If the American

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 885
Minister had come to introduce these, his countrywo
men, to their imperial majesties, and had claimed the
privilege of wearing a black coat because simplicity
belongs to republicans, I imagine that every observer
would have marked the contrast between the pretense
and the performance.
Thus, though we may be republicans, we are in fact
a sumptuous people, addicted to display, and exceed
ingly fond of being in'the midst of stars and garters.
We think the more of these things, doubtless, for the
very reason that they are strange to our manners.
Every American who goes to London or Paris, wishes
to be introduced at court, and seems to feel that this
is his privilege. It is not so with any other nation ;
no English man or woman, in Paris, asks to be pre
sented at the Tuileries, unless it be a person of high
social or official rank.
These being characteristics of our people, and per
fectly well understood abroad, Mr. Marcy's black-
coat circular created no little surprise. It was gen
erally regarded as a mere appeal to the lower classes
in America, who might be supposed to entertain the
sentiments of the sans-culottes, and as such, it was
treated with little respect. Nevertheless, had the gov
ernment prescribed a black dress, for its diplomats, no
court in Europe would have made the slightest ob
jection. Such a measure would no doubt have sub
jected us to criticism, perhaps to ridicule, as a matter
of taste ; it would have been offensive, inasmuch as it
22*

886 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
would have seemed designed as a rebuke of the man
ners and customs of older and more refined nations
than ourselves. We should have been considered aa
reading a lecture to European courts, in this wise —
" Look at us, republicans, and behold how we despise
the trappings of royalty, and the gaud of courts ; look
at our black coats, and go ye and do likewise!" Nev
ertheless, it is perfectly well understood in Europe
that any government may regulate the costume of its
representatives, and had Mr. Marcy's circular made it
obligatory upon the American diplomatic corps to
wear black, or white, or red, or any other color, not
the slightest exception would have been taken to it
by any court in the world.
This, however, was not the course adopted by the
government; they merely recommended, they did not
prescribe, the black coat. The situation of all our min
isters, charges, and secretaries, therefore, at once be
came extremely awkward.'* The diplomatic business
* The desire of our ministers to satisfy the government at home, as
well as to take advantage of the popular outburst in favor of the black
coat, and at tho same time to avoid the ridicule which they knew would
attach to their appearing in a couimon dress at court, led to humiliating
devices. Mr. Soule adopted the shad-bellied, black velvet embroidered
coat and small-clothes of the Municipal Council of Paris, said also to
have been used by Dr. Franklin. Mr. Buchanan wore a black or
blue coat, white waistcoat, small-clothes, silk stockings, a sword, and
chapeau bras ! Mr. Dallas is understood to have adopted the same cos
tume. If we sympathize with these gentlemen for being forced into
such humiliating subterfuges, we ought to bestow more serious con
demnation upon those who led them into temptation, in some of the
northern courts of Europe, I believe our diplomats have adopted the
simple black coat.
I understand that the Consul of Alexandria, whose fmictions are part-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 887
of all countries is transacted between the ambassador
and the ministers, and when these persons meet,
there is no ceremony. They come -together like mer
chants or lawyers, in their ordinary dress. All the
actual business of a foreign minister may therefore be
transacted without any particular costume.
But sovereigns surround themselves with a certain
etiquette, and they require all who approach them to
conform to this. When Queen Victoria invites per
sons to visit her, it is of course upon condition that
they adopt the usages of the court. No one, what
ever his rank or station, can claim exemption from
this rule. It must be remembered that on all such
occasions, the invitation is considered a compliment,
and hence well-bred persons, who take advantage of
it, feel constrained, by self-respect and a sense of pro
priety, scrupulously to regard and fulfill the condi
tions upon which this invitation is bestowed.
Now, it must be remembered that what is called a
court costume, is only required of a minister on
occasions of mere ceremony or festivity, when he
appears by invitation of the sovereign. If he comes,
it is not to transact business, but for amusem'ent. He

ly diplomatic, wears a blue coat with thirty-one stars, wrought in gold,
on the collar. This is a beautiful idea, and might suggest to our gov
ernment a very simple and appropriate consular and diplomatic cos
tume. Some costume — distinct and national and perfectly understood
in all countries — is really important, as well for our consuls as diplo
mats. Those who insist upon the black coat, show a total ignorance of
the duties and position of our public officers abroad, and ofthe nationfi
among whom they officiate.

888 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
may stay away, and nothing belonging to his diplo
matic affairs will suffer. Why, then, if he accepts
the invitation, should he not conform to the pre
scribed usages of the court ? It is generally consid
ered evidence of a want of gentlemanly breeding, an
act of positive vulgarity, for any person to take ad
vantage of a polite invitation, and refuse to conform
to the conditions imposed by the host. Above all,
it would seem that an ambassador, representing a
nation before a foreign court, should be scrupulous
to observe the known and established rules of deco
rum. It must be remembered that propriety of costume
¦ — that is, a dress suited to the taste and fashion pre
vailing where it is worn, is in all civilized countries
a matter of decency. It has been so among all re
fined nations, and from the earliest ages. One of tho
most solemn of our Saviour's parables is founded
upon a breach of decorum in regard to costume — the
appearance of a man at the wedding of the king's son,
without a wedding garment. Similar ideas are just
as current among us as elsewhere. If a clergyman
were to go into the pulpit dressed in a military coat,
it would shock the whole audience, and be considered
an insult alike to them and to the clerical profession.
If a lady issues cards of invitation to a ball, and a
man, who takes advantage of the invitation, comes
in a sailor's roundabout, he would be held as an ill-
bred fellow, and as such would be turned out of

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 889
doors. He may plead that he had simply cut off
the tail of his coat, and as he considered an artificial
appendage of this kind derogatory to a free-born
man, his principles forbade him to wear it. The an
swer is, you are welcome to carry out your principles,
but if you accept an invitation given to you out of
politeness, it is expected and required that you con
form to the known usages and decencies of society.
Now in monarchical countries long usage has es
tablished it in the public mind, that to appear at
court* without a court costume, would be a species of
indecency, an offense against the company present, as
well as the parties giving the invitation. We may
rail at it as much as we please in this country, yet
we can not alter the fact I state.
Taking the matter in this point of view, let us
consider the situation of our diplomatic representa
tives under Mr. Marcy's circular. Had the black
coat been prescribed, as I have said before, there
would have been an end of the matter. Our minis
ters and charges would have been dressed in black,
that is, like the servants of a cafe, while all around
* In general, a person who should attempt to enter at a court recep
tion, without a proper costume, would be stopped at the door : if he
should, by accident, gain admittance, he would probably be invited to
leave the room. A professional dress, as that of a soldier, a clergy
man, &c., is considered a proper costume at Paris, and I believe at
most other courts. If a person is not professional, he must wear either
the prescribed costume of his own country, or that of the court to which
he is introduced The British minister will introduce no one at a for
eign court, who has not been previously presented to the <^ueen at
home.

890 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
them would have appeared in appropriate costumes ;
and thus, in the midst of an assemblage, consisting
of the most exalted rank, the highest refinement, the
most distinguished ability— the representative of the
United States would either have passed unnoticed as
a servant, or been remarked upon as an object of
ridicule, perhaps of contempt. That would have
been all.
But this condition of things was not vouchsafed to
our ministers : if they obeyed the circular, and car
ried the black coat to court, it was known to be in
some degree voluntary, and was so far the more
offensive on the part of.the individual wearing it.
Mr. Sanford, our Charge at Paris, acting from a just
regard to the wishes of his government, tried the ex
periment under many advantages. He was a yoraig
gentleman of good address, and held a respectable
position in the higher circles of society connected with
the court. He was admitted to the Tuileries in his
black suit, but was of course an object of much ob
servation and comment. His character — personal
and of&cial — protected him from indignity, either of
word or look, but the act was considered offensive
as well in the palace as in the various branches of
society in connection with it. About this time Louis
Napoleon was forming his new imperial court, and
seeking to give it every degree of splendor. He
had prescribed rich costumes for his officers, mili
tary and civil, and had directed that their wives

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 891
should appear in their most splendid attire. All
the persons connected with the court entered into
this spirit. For the American Charge to present
himself in simple black, at this particular time,
looked like rebuke, and was, I believe, regarded in
this light. Had Mr. Sanford continued in his office
at Paris, and -had he persevered, he would, perhaps,
by his amiable personal character and pleasing ad
dress, have removed these difficulties, though it is
quite as possible that he might have found his situa-.
tion intolerable, not from open affront, but from those
sly yet galling attacks, which the polished habitues
of courts know so well how to make, even in the midst
of smiles and seeming caresses. As it happened, Mr.
Mason soon after arrived in Paris as full minister,
and appreciating the result of Mr. Sanford's experi
ment, adopted the usual diplomatic costume.
For my own part, I can not see the utility of ma
king ourselves disagreeable, and at the same time
jeoparding the real interests of our country, in such
a matter as that of the dress of our diplomatic repre
sentatives. Our policy should be to cultivate peace
with all the world, but it would seem of late that our
desire is rather to array all the nations against us.
Within the last three years we have lost nearly all our
friends in Europe. The Ostend Congress, with its start
ling doctrines, produced a deep and pervading feeling
of reprehension, and the circulars of " Citizen Saun
ders" created still more lively emotions of irritation

893 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
and resentment.'* The character and conduct of sev
eral of our consuls and diplomats, in different parts
of Europe, together with our Secretary's well-meant
attempts to improve the taste of the European courts
in the matter of dress, have all contributed to degrade
the American name in foreign countries.
Such are, briefly, my views of Mr. Marcy's diplo
matic circular. It seems to have been ill advised, and
though its motive was no doubt good, it must have
been adopted without full inquiry into the subject.
Had the State Department taken the precaution to
address our ministers and consuls on the subject, the
answer would have been such as to have prevented
the ridicule brought upon the country by this meas
ure. The present state of things is embarrassing to
our foreign ministers, and derogatory to the country.
The true plan is to adopt some simple and appro
priate costume, and make it obligatory. If the black
coat is to be preferred, then let it be prescribed, so
* Mr. Saunders' Circulars were addressed, one to the President of
the Swiss Cantons and the other to the French people — the latter being
of a very incendiary character. These were translated into various
languages, and scattered all over Europe, by the Italian and French
exiles in London. I saw one of these, with a preface by Saffi, in which
he stated that the writer. Citizen Saunders, \vas Consul General of the
United States in Great Britain, that he was very intimate with Mr. Bu
chanan, the American minister at London, and thus conveying the idea
that he spoke officially, in some degree, for the United States. A certain
authority was lent to these documents by the statement that they were
circulated in France under the seal of the American Legation iu Lon
dou. To judge of the effect produced by all this, let us consider what
would bo the feeling of our people, if some foreign official should un
dertake to teach us our duty, and should even call upon us to cut tha
throats of our rulers 1

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 893
that the responsibility may fall on the government
and not on him who wears it. And one thing more :
let us be consistent ; if republicanism requires sim
plicity, and black is to be our national color, let the
" fuss and feathers" of the army and navy be dis
missed, and the general as well as the private soldier
appear in " the black coat 1"

LETTER LXII.
Vit.it to Italy — Florence — Rome — Naples.
Mt dear 0 ***** *
In the autumn of 1854 I set out with my family
for a brief visit to Italy. With all my wanderings I
had never seen this far-famed land, and as I was not
likely ever to have another opportunity, I felt it to
be a kind of duty to avail myself of a few unappro
priated weeks, for that object.
It is not my purpose to give you the details of my
travels or my observations. A mere outline must
suffice. Embarking in a steamer at Marseilles, we
soon reached Genoa. Here we went ashore for a few
hours, and then returning to our vessel, proceeded on
to Leghorn. Taking the railroad at this place, we
wound among the hills, and, having passed Pisa,
catching a glirnpse of its Leaning Tower, arrived at
Florence. In this journey of five days, we had
passed from Paris to the center of Italy.

894 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Florence* is situated in a small but fertile valley,
ou either side of which rise a great number of precip
itous hills ; behind these is a succession of still great
er elevations, with rocky summits reaching at last to
the Apennines on the north, and other ranges on the
south and west. A narrow stream, poetically called
the "yellow Arno" or " golden Arno," but in honest
phrase, the muddy Arno, flows nearly through the
center of the city. This is bordered by stone quays,
leaving a space of about three hundred feet in width,
sometimes full and sometimes only a bed of gravel,
along which winds the stream shrunken into an insig
nificant rivulet. The Arno is in fact a sort of mount
ain torrent; its source is nearly five thousand feet
above the level of the sea, yet its whole course is
but seventy -five miles. The steep acclivities around
Florence suddenly empty the rains into its channel,
and it often swells in the course of a few hours to in
undation ; it subsides as speedily,- and in summer al
most disappears amid the furrows of its sandy bed.
lfwe were to judge Florence by a modern stand
ard, we might pronounce it a dull, dismal-looking
* Florence has a population of one hundred and ten thousand inhab
itants, but it is so compactly built as to occupy a very small territorial
space. It is surrounded by a wall, partly of brick and partly of stone,
and yet so feeble and dilapidated, as to be wholly useless, except forthe
purposes of police. It has six gates, duly guarded by military sentries.
It is the capital of Tuscany, which is called a Grand Duohy, the Grand
Duke, its present ruler, Leopold IL, being an Austrian prince. The
goverument is a rigid despotism, sustained by means of a few thousand
Austrian troops, and the moral influence of the authority of Austria
itself, ever ready to rush to the aid of the government.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 895
place, marred by dilapidation, degraded by tyranny,
and occupied by a degenerate people. But when we
enter its galleries of art,* when we survey its monu
ments of architecture, and when we view all these in
connection with its history, we speedily discover it
to be an inexhaustible mine, alike instructive to the
philosopher and the man of taste.
I dare not begin upon the curiosities with which
this city is filled : I must leave them to be described
by others. The hills around the city are equally
interesting, studded as they are with edifices, con
nected with the names of Michael Angelo, Galileo,
Dante, Lorenzo de' Medici, and others, all full of his
torical associations or recollections of science and art.
At the distance of about five miles is Fiesole, now an
insignificant village, situated on the top of a steep hill,
rising a thousand feet above the bed of the valley.
This you ascend by a winding road, built with im
mense labor, a portion of it cut in the solid rock.
This place was the cradle of Florence, its history
reaching back three thousand years, into the thick
mists of antiquity.
* The principal gallery, the Ufizzi, contains the statue of the Venus
de' Medici, the group of Niobe, and the most extensive collection of
paintings and statuary illustrative of the history and progress of art,
in the world. The collection in the Pitti Palace, the residence of the
Grand Duke, is less extensive, but it is beautifully arranged, and com
prises many gems of art, especially in painting and mosaic. Mr. Powers
and Mr. Hart, American sculptors, celebrated for their busts in marble,
are established in this city. Here we met Buchanan Read, who had
just finished his charming poem. The New Pastoral ; at the same time
he was acquiring hardly less celebrity by his pencil.

896 LETTEES  ^BIOGEAPHICAL,
Here are Cyclopean walls, constructed by the early
inhabitants to protect themselves at a period when
all Italy was in the possession of bands of brigands
and robbers, and when every town and village was a
fortress. From this point you look down upon Flor
ence, which almost seems at your feet ; you have
also a commanding view of the whole adjacent coun
try. If you inquire the names of places that attract
your attention, you will be carried back to periods
anterior to the building of Rome. The guide will
point you to the track of Hannibal through the
marshes of the Arno, then a wilderness without in
habitants, amid which the Carthaginian general lost
a number of elephants, and whose tusks are even at
this day dug up from their deep beds in the soil.
Allow me to give you a somewhat prosy description
in rhyme of this wonderful and suggestive place —
the best in the world to study early Roman geogra
phy and history — ^which I wrote on the spot, and
which has at least the merit of being brief:
This is Fiesole — a giant mound,
¦With fellow-giants circling phalanx'd round ;
Hoary with untold centuries they rest,
Tet to the top with waving olives dress'd,
"While far heyond in rugged peaks arise
The dark-blue Apennines against the skies.
In this deep vale, with sentried hills around,
Set foot to foot, and all with villas crown'd,
Fair Florence lies — ^its huge Duomo flinging
"E'en to FiS.sole its silvery ringing.

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 897
Ah, what a varied page these scenes unfold —
How much is written, yet how much untold ! ,
Here on this mound, the huge Cyclopean wall —
Its builders lost in Time's unheeding thraU —
Speaks of whole nations, ages, kingdoms, races.
Of towers and cities, palaces and places —
Of wars and sieges, marches, battles, strife,
The hopes and fears — the agonies of life —
All pass'd away, their throbbing weal and woe.
E'er Eome was built, three thousand years ago 1
On the twenty-second day of February we entered
,Rome, and found the peach-trees in blossom. The
modern city is in no respect remarkable. Its walls
are of some strength, but readily yielded to the at
tack of the French army in 1849. Its present popu
lation is one hundred and seventy-five thousand.
All the streets are narrow, and even the far-famed
Corso is not over fifty feet wide. In general, the
buildings appear to be of modern date, with here and
there some grand monument of antiquity peering out
from the midst of more recent structures. On the
whole, the aspect of this " Queen of the Worid" is
eminentiy sad, degenerate, and disheartening.
The more imposing relics of antiquity, the Forum,
the Palace of the Caesars, the Coliseum, the Baths of
Caracalla, though within the walls, are still on the
southern side of the city, and beyond the present cen
ter of population. All these are gigantic structures,
but mostiy of a barbarous character. They show the
amazing power and wealth of the emperors who con

898 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
Structed these works, but they also display the actual
. poverty of art, for there is not one of them that can
furnish a useful suggestion to even a house-carpenter.
The vain and transitory nature of the ideas and insti
tutions which gave birth to these miracles of labor,
strikes the reflecting mind with a deep and painful
sense of humiliation. The Coliseum, the most sublime
monument of accumulated human toil, regarded as to
its gigantic proportions, was erected for amusements
now held to be alike cruel and revolting ; the baths
of Caracalla — whole acres covered with mounds of
brick — were constructed to minister to fashionable
luxuries, which at the present day would be regarded
as infamous. In modern times, the same accommoda
tions would be obtained with one-twentieth part of
the labor expended upon these establishments.. The
vanity, the boasting, the ostentation of conquerors,
which gave birth to the triumphal arches, would at this
day be looked upon with universal contemp't. The
temples were erected to gods, which have vanished
into thin air. The Aqueducts, whose ruins stretch
across the gloomy Campagna, looking like long lines
of marching mastodons, were erected in ignorance of
that familiar fact, visible to any one who looks into
a teapot, that water will rise to its level !
The great lesson to be learned at Rome is that of
humility. I know not which is most calculated to
sink the pride of man, pagan Rome, sublime in the
grandeur of its tyranny, its vices, and its falsehoods,

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ^TC. 899
or Christian Rome, contemptible in its littleness, its
tricks, and its artifices, which would disgrace the
commonest juggler.
I speak not now of the treasures of art,* collected
to repletion in the public and private galleries of thia
wonderful city. These are endless in extent and va
riety. Among them are the finest paintings of Ra
phael, and the best sculptures of Michael Angelo, as
well as the Dying Gladiator and the Apollo Belvidere.
Here, also, is that rich, gorgeous palace, called St.
Peter's Church. But still, Rome, on the whole, seems
to me the most melancholy spot on earth. Here is a
city which once contained three or four millions of
^ Kome is not only a depository of exhaustless stores of relics of art,
and curiosities illustrative of history, but it is the great studio of liv
ing artists from all parts of Europe. Both painting and sculpture are
pursued here with eminent success. The Angel of the Eesnrrection
In the studio of Tenerani, is the most beautiful and sublime piece of
sculpture I ever beheld. Gibson, an Englishman, takes the lead among
foreigners, his best things consisting of reliefs, which are beautiful in
deed. His Venus is English, but fine. He has tried coloring statuary,
after the manner of the ancients, but it is not approved. Our Ameri
can Crawford ranks very high for invention and poetic expression. He
has shown a capacity beyond any other American sculptor, for groups
on a large scale. Bartholomew, of Connecticut, is a man of decided
genius, and is rapidly attaining fame. Ives, Mosier, Eogers— all our
countrymen — are acquiring celebrity.
Among the foreign painters, the most celebrated is Overbeck, a Ger
man. He chooses religious subjects, and is a little pre-Eaphaelitish in
his style. Page, Terry, Chapman, are all highly appreciated, both at
home and abroad. I here mot the landscape painter, George L. Brown,
whom I employed twenty years ago, for a twelvemonth, as a wood-
engraver. He has studied laboriously of late, and his pictures are
beautiful. When he was ». boy, he painted a picture, the first he ever
finished. Isaac P. Davis, of Boston, a well-known amateur, called to
see it, and asked the price. Brown meant to say flfty cents, but in his
confusion said fifty dollars. It was taken by Mr. Davis at this price :
80 the wood-cutter became a landscape painter 1

900 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
inhabitants, now shrunk and wasted to a population
of less than two hundred thousand, and these living
upon the mere ruins of the past. The Christian
Church is but little better than a collection of bats
and owls, nestling in the ruinous structures erected
for the gods and goddesses of heathen antiquity.
Nor is this the most appalling fact here presented
to the traveler. Around this place is a belt of un
dulating land called the Campagna, eight or ten
miles in width, fertile by nature, and once cov
ered with a busy population ; this has become deso
late, and is now tenanted only by sheep and cattle.
The air is poisoned, and man breathes it at his peril.
To sleep in it is death. And this change has come
over it while it claims to be the very seat and center
of Christianity, the residence of the Successor of the
Apostles, the Head of the Catholic Church, the Rep
resentative of Christ on earth, the Spiritual Father of
a hundred and fifty millions of souls ! Is not this
mysterious, fearful?
We reached Naples about the first of April. Here
the character of the climate and of the people be
comes thoroughly Italian. The Bay of Naples can
not be too much praised. Not only do the promi
nent objects — the crescent-shaped city, rising terrace
above terrace on the north ; Vesuvius, with its double
cone in the east, and the islands of Capri and Ischia
at the south — form a beautiful boundary to the view,
out the water and the sky and the air have all a live-

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 901
liness, a cheerfulness, which calls upon the heart to
be gay. The Neapolitan is, in truth, constantly
preached to by nature, to sing and dance and be
happy. It is impossible for any one to resist this
influence of the climate — -of the earth and the sea
and the air — rin this region of enchantment. It ap
pears that the ancient Romans felt and yielded to its
force'. In the vicinity was Puzzuoli, a renowned wa
tering-place, the hills around being still studded with
the vestiges of villas once inhabited by the Roman
patricians ; near by was Cumse, long a seat and center
of taste and luxury ; close at hand was Baiae, the
Baden Baden of fashion in the time of Cicero — its
ruins abundantly attesting the luxury as well as the
licentiousness of those days. In the mouth of the
bay was Capri, chosen by Tiberius as the scene of
his imperial orgies, in consideration of its delicious
climate and picturesque scenery. The whole region
is indeed covered over with monuments of Rome in
the day of its glory, testifying to the full apprecia
tion of the beauties of the sky and the climate, on
the part of its patrician population.
As to the city of Naples itself I shall not speak ;
though its people, its institutions, its repositories of
art, its Museum of vestiges taken from the buried
cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, would furnish
interesting subjects pf description. I have only to
add that after a stay of a month, I left it with reluct
ance, and returned to Paris. "When I arrived, the

803 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL,
Great Exposition was on the eve- of being opened,
I remained till July, and had several opportunities to
examine this marvelous array of the world's art and
industry. On the fourth of the same month I de
parted for the United States, and arriving in New
York, found anchorage for myself and family in that
city.

LETTER LXIII.
Lea/ve-taking — Improvement everywhere — In Science— Geology, Chemistry,
Agriculture, Manufactures, Astronomy, Navigation, the Domestic Arts —
Anthracite Coal — Traveling — Painting — Daguerreotypes — The Electric
Telegraph — Moral Progress — In Foreign Countries : in the United States.
Mt deah c ***** *
I have now come to my farewell. Leave-takings
are in general somewhat melancholy, and it is best to
make them as brief as possible. Mine shall consist
of a single train of thought, and that suggestive of
cheerful rather than mournful feelings. Like a trav
eler approaching the eud of his journey, I naturally
cast a look backward, and surveying the monuments
which rise up in the distance, seek to estimate the
nature and tendency of the march of events which I
have witnessed, and in which I have participated.
One general remark appears to me applicable to
the half century over which my observation has ex
tended, which is, that everywhere there has been im
provement. I krow of no department of human

IIISIYIEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 903
knowledge, no sphere of human inquiry, no race of
men, no region of the earth, where there has been re-
trogradation. On the whole, the age has been alike
fruitful in discovery, and the practical, beneficial re
sults of discovery. Science has advanced with giant
strides, and it is the distinguishing characteristic of
modern science that it is not the mere toy of the phi-'
losopher, nor the hidden mystery of the laboratory,
but the hard-working servant of the manufactory, the
workshop, and the kitchen. Geology not only in
structs us in the sublime history of the formation of
the earth, but it teaches us to understand its hidden
d^ths, and to trace out and discover its mineral treas
ures. Chemistry, the science of atoms, teaching us
the component parts of matter, as well as the laws of
affinity and repulsion, has put us in possession of a
vast range of convenient knowledge now in daily and
familiar use in the domestic arts. We have even ex
press treatises upon the " Chemistry of Common Life."
Astronomy has not only introduced to us new planets
and the sublime phenomena of the depths hitherto
beyond our reach, but it has condescended to aid in
perfecting the art of navigation, and thus contributed
to make the sea the safe and familiar highway of the
nations. We can best appreciate the progress of things around
us, by looking at particular facts. Take anthracite
coal, for instance, which, when I was a boy, was un
known, or only regarded as a black, shining, useless

904 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
stone; now six millions of tons are annually dug
up and distributed. Think of the labor that is per
formed by this mass of matter, that had slumbered
for ages — hidden, senseless, dead, in the bosom of the
earth ! It now not only cooks our food and warms
our houses so as in winter to give us the climate of
summer, but the sleeper, waked from its tomb, like a
giant impatient of the time he has lost, turns the whiz
zing wheel of the factory, sends the screaming locomo
tive on its way, drives the steamboat foaming through
the waves. This single mineral now performs, every
day, the labor of at least a hundred thousand men !
On every hand are the evidences of improvement.
What advances have been made in agriculture — in
the analysis of soils, the preparation of manures, the
improvement of implements, from the spade to the
steam-reaper; in the manufacture of textile fabrics
by the inventions of Jacquard and others in weaving,
and innumerable devices in spinning; in the working
of iron — cutting, melting, molding, rolling, shaping
it like dough, whereby it is applied to a thousand
new uses ; in commerce and navigation, by improved
models of ships, improved .chronometers, barometers,
and quadrants — in chain-pumps and wheel-rudders ;
in printing, by the use ofthe power-press, throwing off
a hundred thousand impressions instead of two thou
sand in a day ; in the taking of likenesses by the da
guerreotype, making the Sun himself the painter of
miniatures ; in microscopes, which have revealed new

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 905
worlds in the infinity of littleness, as well a.t in tele
scopes which have unfolded immeasurable depths o>
space before hidden from the view How has travel
ing been changed, from jolting along at the rate of six
miles an hour over rough roads in a stage-coach, to
the putting one's self comfortably to bed in a steam
boat and going fifteen miles an hour ; or sitting down
in a railroad car at New York to read a novel, and
before you have finished, to find yourself at Boston !
The whole standard of life and comfort has been
changed, especially in the cities. The miracles of
antiquity are between each thumb and finger now; a
friction-match gives us fire and light, the turn of a
cock brings us water, bright as from Castalia. We
have summer in our houses, even through the rigors
of winter. We light our streets by gas, and turn
night into day. Steam brings to the temperate zone
the fresh fruits of the tropics ; ether mitigates the ag
onies of surgical operations ; ice converts even the
fires of Sirius into sources of luxury.
These are marvels, yet not the greatest of marvels.
Think — instead of dispatching a letter iu a mail-bag,
with the hope of getting an answer in a .month — of
sending your thoughts alive along a wire winged with
electricity, to New Orleans or Canada, to Charleston or
St. Louis, and getting a reply in the course of a few
hours ! This is the miracle of human inventions, the
crowning glory of art, at once the most ingenious, the
most gratifying, the most startling of discovtri.w. I

906 LETTEES  BIOGEAPHICAL,
know of nothing in the whole range of human contri
vances which excites such exulting emotions in the
mind of man, as the electric telegraph.* It is giving
wings of light to the mind, and here on earth impart
ing to the soul, some of the anticipated powers which
imagination tells us the spirit may exercise in the
* The original profession of Samuel Finley Morse, the inventor ofthe
electric telegraph, was that of an historical painter. He went to Europe
for the purpose of perfecting himself in this, the second time, in 1824. In
the autumn of 1832 he was returning in a ship from Havre, when the sub
ject of electro-magnetism one day became the theme of conversation at
the lunch-table. The fact that an electric spark could be obtained from
a magnet, had led to the new science of magneto-electricity. Eeflecting
upon this, the idea of making electricity the means of telegraphic com
munication struck him with great force. It appears that in this concep
tion he had been anticipated by scientific men, but nothing had been
eflTeoted toward realizing it. Mr. Morse, after earnest and absorbing
reflection upon this subject during his voyage, on his arrival sot himself
to the task of making it practical, and the plan he flnally discovered and
laid before the world was entirely original with him. All telegraphists
before used evanescent signs ; his system included not only the use ofa
new agent, but a self-recording apparatus, adding to the celerity of light
ning almost the gift of speech. This was a new and wonderful art — that
of a speaking and printing telegraph !
It would be interesting, if I had space, to trace this invention through
all its alternations in the mind, feelings, and experiments of its producer.
1 can only say that after encountering and overcoming innumerable ob
stacles, the instrument was made to work on a small but decisive scale
in 1885. Iu 1887 he established his apparatus at Washington, and, as
every thing seemed to promise success, he made an arrangement with a
member of Congress (F. 0. J. Smith) to take an interest in the patent,
and to proceed forthwith to Europe to secure patents there. This was
done, and Mr. Morse soon joined his associate in England. The expe
dition resulted only in long embarrassment and disaster to the inventor.
Having returned to the United States, and successfullj itr'iggling with
obstacles and adversities, he finally obtained the assistaiyce Df the gov
ernment, and a line of telegraph was built from Washington to Balti
more. After some mistakes and many failures, the work proved suc
cessful, efl'ective experiments having been made in ISM. The first
sentence sent over the line is said to have been dictated by Miss Anna
Ellsworth, daughter of H. L. Ellsworth, then commissioner of patents—

HISTOEICAL, ANECDOTICAL, ETC. 907
world above! Having achieved so much, who
shall dare to set limits to the power of human in
vention ?
And in the moral world, the last fifty years appear
to me to have shown an improvement, if not as
marked, yet as certain and positive, as in the material
world. Everywhere, as I believe, the standard of
humanity is more elevated than before. About a
century ago, an eminent New England divine, after
ward president of Yale College, sent a barrel of rum
to Africa by a Rhode Island captain, and got in re
turn a negro boy, whom he held as a slave, and this
was not an offence. I know of a distinguished D. D.
who was a distiller of New England rum half a cen
tury ago, and with no loss of reputation. The rules
by which we try candidates for office are much more
rigid than formerly. Church discipline among all
sects is more severe, while sectarian charity is greatly
enlarged. Christian missions are among the estab
lished institutions of society; education is every
where improved and extended. If in some things,
with the increase of wealth and luxury, we have de
generated, on the whole there has been an immense
•"What hath God wrought?" It was indeed a natural and beautiful
idea, at the moment that man had opened a new and startling develop
ment ofthe works of the Almighty. The means of instantly transmit
ting intelligence through space, seems to illustrate not only the omnipo
tence, but the omniscience and omnipresence of God.
Thus the telegraph was established, and though Mr. Morse has en
countered opposition, rivalry, and almost fatal competition, he is gen
erally admitted throughout the world to be the true inventor of this
greatest marvel of art, the electric telegraph.

908 LETTEES — BIOGEAPHICAL, ETC.
advance, as well in technical morals as in those large
humanities which aim at the good of all mankind.
If we cast our eyes over foreign lands, we shall see
a similar if not an equal progress in all that belongs
to the comforts and the charities of life. Despotism
still reigns over a large part of the world, but its
spirit is mitigated, its heart softened. Dungeons and
chains are not now the great instruments of govern
ment. There is everywhere — more especially in all
parts of Christendom — a feeling of responsibility on
the part of even kings and princes, to the universal
principles of justice and humanity. There is a moral
sense, a moral law among mankind, which tyrants
dare not set at defiance !
Such has been the tendency of things within the
half century which has passed under my observation.
If, then, I am an optimist, it is as much from reason
and reflection as from sentiment. In looking at the
political condition of our country, there are no doubt
threatening clouds in the sky, and mutterings of
ominous thunders in the distance. I have, however,
known such things before ; I have seen the country
shaken to its center by the fierce collisions of parties,
and the open assaults of the spirit of disunion. But
these dangers passed away. Within my memory, the
States of the Union have been doubled in number, and
the territory ofthe Union has been trebled in extent I
This I have seen ; and as such has been the past, so
may be, and so I trust will be, the future. Farewell !

INDEX

A.
Abd-el-Kadie, 836.
Abbkceombib, Dr. John, 723.
Adams, John, 119, 554, 883.
Adams, J. Q., 374, 475, 493,
635, 778, 781, 783, 786.
Adams, Samuel, 163.
Albert, Prince, 740.
Albion, Ship, 601.
Alfred, King, 94.
Allen, Ethan, 99.
Allen, Ira, 99.
Allen, John, 333.
Allen, J. W., 334.
Alsop, Richard, 581.
Ames, Fisher, 500.
Ampeke, Author, 881.
Annuals, The, 699.
Appleton, D. & Co., 694, 761.
Appleton, Wm., 718.
Arago, Astronomer, 818, 849.
Arnold, Benedict, 485.
AsBUBT, Eev. Francis, 305.
Ashburton, Lord, 464.
Astor, John Jacob, 533.
Austin Family, 343.

B.
Babcock, Elisha, 490.
Bacon, Dr. Leonard, 348.
Bacon, Rev. Mr., 576.
Bacon, Rev. Dr. Leonard, 576.
Bailey, Mrs., 439.
BAiNBRineB, Com., 410.
Baird, Dr., 633.
Baldwin, (Jranther, 43, 384.
Ballantyne, James, 636.

Baltimore Riot, 395.
Bancroft, George, 693.
Bangs, 759.
Barley-wood, 603.
Barlow, Joel, 374, 480.
Baenard, Henrf-, 759.
Barrot, Odillon, 837, 840, 841.
Bartlett, Rev. J., 181.
Bayard, J. A., 123.
Bayard, W., 533.
Baylies, Hodijah, 504.
Beddoes, Dr., 349.
Beecher, Catharine, 556.
Beecher, Edward, 556.
Beecher, Henry Ward, 556.
Beecher, Lyman, 555.
Benedict, Aunt Delight, 44,
334.
Benedict, Deacon John, 148,
233.
Benedict, Noah B., 350.
Benedict, Eev. Noah, 350.
Benton, Thomas H„ 808.
Bkeanqbr, Author, 881..
Berlin, Conn., 535.
Berlin, Decree of, 403.
Bethel Rock; Legend of, 353.
BmoLE, Com., 444.
Bigelow, Timothy, 503.
Bishop, Abraham, 133.
Bishop, Deacon Samuel, 133.
Blackwood's Magazine, 624.
Blackwood, "William, 624, 636.
Blanc, Louis, 853, 874.
Blatchford, Rev. Dr., 180.
Bliss, George, 503.
Blue-Lights, 437.
Boardman, Elijah, 513, 513.
Bonaparte, Jerome, 111.
Bonaparte, Napoleon, 360.

910

Bonaparte, Pauline, 113.
Bradley, Col. P., 239.
Bradley, Stephen R., 408, 557.
Book Trade, 757.
Bosc, Agriculturist, 818.
BowEN, Charles, 744. .
Brodie, Sir B. C, 733.
Beougham, Lord, 672.
Brown, Dr. John, 349.
Bryant, W. C, 568, 718.
Buccleugh, Duke ol, 631.
Buchanan, J., 886, 892.
Buckingham, J. T., 497, 693.
Buffalo, 400.
Bull, Thomas, 514.
Burdett, Sir F?, 674.
Burnett, Rev. Dr., 177.
Burns, Robert, 044.
Bushnell, Dr., 556.
Byron, Lord, 154, 559, 563,638,
637, 690. C.
Cabot, George, 490, 498.
Calhoun, J. C, 470, 783, 798,
805.
Campbell, Thomas, 715.
Canning, George, 673.
Carter, J. G., 144, 759.
Castine, 489.
Catalani, Madame, 676.
Causidiere, 853.
Cavaignao, 853, 874.
Chalmers, Dr., 632, 680.
Champion, Henry, 489.
Champollion, 335. •
Channing, W. E., 693, 741.
Charles X., King, 823.
Chartres, Duke of, 841.
Chase, Bishop, 514.
Cheever, G. B., 697.
Cheney, John, 702.
Chesapeake, Frigate, 375 ; cap
tured, 413.
Child, Mrs., 173.
Chittenden, T., 557.
Clabkson, Matthew, 532.
Clay, Henry, 467, 773, 775, 783,
786, 798,;876.
Clayton, J. M., 850.

Clemens, Jeremiah, 857.
Clebo, Laurent, 585.
Cleveland, Rev. Mr., 130.
Clifford, J. H., 740.
Coggeswell, M. F., 581, 584.
Cold Friday, 365.
Colemau, Henry, 849.
Coleman, "William, 497.
Coles, J. B., 532.
Colman, George, 559.
Coleridge, S. T., 559.
Conservatives, 119.
Convention, Hartford, 471.
Convention, Hartford, Members
of, 493.
CooKE, Amos, 395, 303.
OooKE, Col. J. P., 398.
Cook, Dr., 633.
Cooper, J. Fenimore, 568, 641.
Corbin, P. H. B., 849.
Cotton, History of, 387.
Courant, Connecticut, 383.
Courbevoie, 388.
CowDEN, E. C, 849.
Craig, Sir J. H., 476.
Cranstoun, Mr., 613.
Crawford, "W. H., 778.
Crittenden, J. J., 809.
Cullen, Dr. "Wilham, 349.
Cushing, Caleb, 503, 715.
Cutting, Col. Jonas, 513.
Cuvier, Zoologist, 818.

D.
Dallas, George M., 886.
Dana, R. H., 693.
Danbury, 395, 399, 367.
Dane, Nathan, 503.
Davis, John, 749.
Dearborn, Gen., 411.
Decatur, Com., 413, 443.
Deicay, Com., 346.
Delbruok, M., 855, 858.
Delight, Aunt, 44, 334.
Demagogism, 130.
Demming, H. C, 370.
Democratic Clubs, 117.
Dewey, Orville, 715.
Dexter, Frankhn, 877.

911

Dickens, Charles, 755.
Dickinson, D. S., 556.
Domingo, St., 533.
Dow, Lorenzo, 300, 305, 306.
Dow, Peggy, 308.
Downie, Com., 453.
Duchatel, Min., 840.
DucH^, Dr., 163, 193.
Duck Island, 53.
Dudevant, Madame, 881.
Dumas, Alexandre, 881.
Dumas, Adolphe, 881.
Dupuytren, Surgeon, 833.
Durham, 340.
Dutton, Henry, 556.
Dwight, Dr. Timothy, 94, 179,
191, 319.
Dwight Family, 333.
Dwight, Theodore, 391, 410.

B.
Echo, Poems, 581.
Eclipse of the Sun, 1806, 367.
Edgeworth, Miss, 639.
Edinburgh, 610.
Edinburgh Review, 610.
Edwards, Pierpont, 136.
Elliot, Rev. Mr., 179.
Ellsworth, H. L., 471.
Ellsworth, Mrs., 53.
Ellsworth, Oliver, 94, 883.
Ely, CoL John, 36, 433.
Ely, Grandmother, 88.
Embargo, 403, 455.
Emmett, Thomas Addis, 534.
England, Scenery of, 653.
Episcopacy, 189.
Erie, Lake. Victory of, 413.
Frying, G. "W., 849.
Everett, A. H., 743, 746.
Everett, Edward, 693, 718,
749, 795, 857.
Eyre, Col., 435.

S'amine in New England, 540.
Fay, T. S., 715.

Fields, J. T., 715, 718.
Fillmore, Millard, 760.
FiSHBE, A. "W., 603.
Fisher, Rev. Mr., 179.
Fontaine, Architect, 818.
Forsyth, Secretary of State,
807, 808.
Fourier, Geometrician, 817.
Franklin, Benjamin, 94, 883.
FiTiit Festival, New York, 717.
Fulton, Robert, 383.

G.
Gallatin, Albert, 404, 466.
Gallaudet, Thomas H., 303,
584.
Gay-Lussac, 818.
Genet, French. Minister, 117.
Geoffroy St. Hilaire, 817.
George IV., 663, 678.
Ghent, Treaty of, 457, 531.
Giant's Causeway, 606.
Gibbs, Col. George, 382.
Gillies, Judge, 615.
Girardin, Emile, 881.
Girardin, Madame, 881.
Glass, Rev. John, 370.
Goddard, Calvin, 488, 508.
Goodrich Family, 343.
Goodrich, Chauncey, 36, 387,
494, 506.
Goodrich, ¦ Elizur, LL.D., 36,
132.
Goodrich, Eev. Samuel, 36, 37.
Goodrich, Professor C. A., 53,
763.
Goodrich, Charles A., 151, 570.
Goodrich, Elizur, jr., 53.
Goodridge, Major, 473.
Goodwin, George, 383.
Goodwin, J. M., 515.
Gospellers, 195.
Gould, George, 556.
Gould, James, 555.
Gracie, Archibald, 533, 533.
Graham's Magazine, 760.
Grattan, T. C, 743.
Greenwood, F. "W. P., 713.
Gregory, Molly, 73.

913

Grellet, Peter, 356.
Griswold, Dr. Rufus "W., 703,
760.
Griswold, Fort, 434.
Griswold, Roger, 417.
Grotom, Village, 433.
Guizot, Minister, 824, 831, 840.

H.
Hale, Nathan, 693.
Hale, S. J., 730.
Hamilton, Alexander, 375.
Hand, Dr., 543.
Hanson, Alexander, 397.
Hardy, Com., 413, 435.
Harper, James, 694.
Harper & Brothers, 694.
Harbison, Gen., 411.
Hartford, City of, 393.
Hartford Convention, 406, 471.
Hatch, Moses, 303.
Haven, Franklin, 786.
Hawes, Dr. Joel, 763.
Hawes, Miss, 763.
Hawkes, "W., 849.
Hawley, Deacoja Elisha, 73,
335.
Hawley, Rev. Thomas, 183.
Hawley, Elijah, 137.
Hawthorne, N., 709.
Hayne, Col., 467, 804.
Hazard, Benjamin, 504.
Henry, John, 476.
Hentz, Andrg, 857.
Herald, New York, 760.
Hildreth, Historian, 133,
407.
Hill, Isaac, 807, 808.
Hillhouse, James, 506.
Hinman, R. R., 495.
Holley, G. "W., 556.
Holmes, 0. "W., 715.
Hopkins, Lemuel, 391, 573.
Hopkinson, Francis, 383.
Hubbard, S. D. , 346.
Hudson & GooDwnr, 383.
Hull, Com., 410.
Hull, Gen., 409.
Humphries, David, 376, 574.

Hunter, WiUiam, 776.
Huntington, J. W., 555.
HuNTiNGTON, S. H., 567.

Ingersoll, Rev. Jonathan, 349.
Ingersoll, Jonathan, Judge,
354.
Ingersoll, Joseph, 350.
Ingersoll, Morse, 350.
Ingersoll, Grace, 355.
Ingersoll, R. I., 254.
Ingersoll, C. J., 493, 518.
International Copyright, 755.
Irving, Rev. Edward, 680.
Irving, Washington, 816.
Izard, Gen., 453.

Jackson, Gen., 458, 778, 781.
Jackson, Judge Charles, 477.
Jagger, Beggar, 60.
Jay, John, 883.
Jefferson, Thomas, 63, 108,
115, 373, 475.
Jeffrey, Francis, 614, 618.
Jenner, Dr., 53.
Jennings, Hotel-keeper, 533.
Jesup, Gen., 514, 516.
Johnson, Capt. N., 430.
Johnson, Dr. S., 372.
JomviLLE, Princess de, 843.
Jones, Com., 410, 444.
Jones, Paul, 643.
JouY, Author, 819.

K.
Keeler, 'Squire Timothy, 30.
Kent, Judge, 535.
Key, F. S., 446.
KmG, Charles, 533.
King, Gen. Joshua, 130, 339.
King, Rufus H., 147, 347, 776.
Knatchball, Sir E., 690.
Knickerbocker Magazine, 760.

INDEX.

913

L.
LAOEorx, Mathematician, 818.
Lady of the Lake, 609.
Laennec, Physician, 831.
Lafayette, Gen., 835.
Lamarck, Naturalist, 818.
Lamartine, 841, 874, 881.
Lamb, Lady Caroline, 639.
Laplace, Astronomer, 818.
Larrey, Baron, 817.
Larroque, Baron, Physician,
731.
Law, Jonathan, 567.
Lawrence, Abbott, 94.
Lawrence, Capt., 413.
Lecompte, Bois, 877.
Ledyard, Col., 424.
Lee, Dr. S. H. P., 441.
Lee, Gov. Henry, 398.
Leopard, British Ship, 275.
Lewis, Rev. Dr., 176.
Lewis and Clarke's Expedi
tion, 278.
L'Herminier, Dr., 721.
LiHO-LiHo, King, 679.
Lingan, Gen., 398.
Livingston, Chancellor, 376.
Livingston, Edward, 883.
Loch Katrine, 609, 649.
Locke, John, 604.
Lockhart, J. G., 613, 630, 636,
648.
Lockhart, Mrs., 637.
Lockwood, H. N., 310.
London, Progress of, 663.

M.
Macdonough, Com., 453.
Mackenzie, Judge, 615.
Macbontosh, Sir J., 671.
Macomb, Gen., 453.
Macy, Capt., 601.
McGee, Messrs., 305.
Madison, James, 404, 454, 476,
530.
Mann, Horace, 731.
Manton, Edward, 504.
Maple Sugar, 68.

Marcy, William H., 881, 885.
Mars, Mademoiselle, 830.
Marsh, Eev. Dr., 331, 358.
Marshall, Judge, 772.
Marshall, T., 809.
Martin, Hyacinthe, 853.
Mason, J. M., 536, 576.
Mason, Lowell, 759.
Mead, Jerry, 116.
Mead, Rev. Mr., 38.
Mead, Whitman, 487.
Mellen, Grenville, 714.
Merchants' Magazine, 760.
Mercury, American, 493.
Merino Sheep, 876.
Mery, Author, 714.
Meteor of 1807, 377.
Methodism, 195.
MUan Decree, 402.
Mirror, Connecticut, 579, 593.
Mitchell, Rev. Mr., 179.
Mole, Count, 833, 840.
Moncrief, Sir H., 613.
Monroe, Mrs., 780.
Monroe, President, 585, 779,
780, 883.
Montpensier, Duchess of, 843.
Moore, Thomas, 639.
More, Hannah, 173, 603, 608,
695.
MoEGAN, Capt., 513.
Morgan, Lady, 113.
Morse, S. F., 906.
Morton, Lord, 631.
Morton, Marcus, 749.
MosELY, Charles, 430.
Murray, Rev. John, 189.

N.
Napoleon, Emperor, 113.
Napoleon, Louis, 113, 861, 875.
Neal, John, 715.
Nemours, Duke of, 881, 839,
841.
Newark, 411.
New Bedford, 749.
New Haven, 311.
New Orleans, 733.
New Orleans, Battle of, 458.

914

INCEX.

Niles, J. M., 807.
Non-importation Act, 402.
Norfolk, 400.
North American Eeview, 092.
Noyes, Rev. Mr., 178.
NuUiflcation, 530.

O.
Ohio, Emigration to, 541.
Olmstead, Deacon N., 114, 238.
Olmstead, Lewis, 48.
Olmstead, Matthew, 337.
Olmstead, Stephen, 48.
Olmsted, David, 37.
Opie, Mrs., 695.
Orleans, Duchess of, 841.
Osgood, Mrs., 714.
Otis, H. G., 477, 487, 489, 499,
776.

Packenham, Gen., 458.
Paine, Thomas, 117, 118.
Pal.mkrston, Lord, 674.
Panama Mission, 774.
Paris, City of, 815.
Paris, Count de, 841.
Park, Mungo, 375.
Parsons, Judge Theophilus,
500.
Patterson, Miss, 111.
Pauline Bonaparte, 113.
l^AYSON, Rev. Edward, 5oT.
Peace, 453, 457.
Peel, Sir Robert, 074.
Percival, J. G., 588.
Perkins, Rev. Dr., 358.
Perkins, Thomas H., 477.
Perkins, Jacob, 665, 066, 701.
Perry's Victory, 413.
Pierpont, J., 713.
Pickering, John, 711.
Pike, Gen., 411.
Pinkney, William, 776.
Pi.UMER, WiUiam, 477.
Poisson, Mathematician, 817.
Polk, J. K., President, 803.
Pope Pius VIL, 113.

Ponsard, Author, 881.
Porter, Jane, 562.
Poussin, G. T., 850.
Prentiss, S. S., 794.
Prescott, WUliam, 477, 502.
Prescott, William H., 759.
Prime, Nathaniel, 533.
Provost, Gen., 452.
Puritans, 195.
Putnam, G. P., 718, 761.

R.
Rachel, Actress, 881.
Radicals, 119.
Eamsay, Allan, 651.
Randolph, John, 396, 404, 507,
774, 775, 809.
Reeve, Tapping, Judge, 363,
555
Revival, The Great, 305.
Revolution, French, of 1848,
825
Ridgefield, Town of , 26, o7, iOO.
Riley, Isaac, 535.
Ripley, Rev. Dr., 149, 176.
Ristori, Madame, 881.
Rives, WUUam C, 877.
Robbins, Rev. R., 591, 595.
Robertson, Judge, 615.
Rockwell, J. O., 697.
Rogers, John, 67.
Roland, Madame, 596.
Rollin, Ledru, 874.
Romeyn, Rev. Dr., 535.
Ross, Gen., 446.
Rush, Ricliard, 847.
Russell, Mrs., 018.

S.
Sand, Madame George, 881.
Sandaman, Robert, 370.
Sanford, Ezeldel, 141.
Sanford, H. S., 890.
Sargent, E. and J., 715.
Saunders, George, 891.
Sauzet, Deputy, 841.
SpoTT, Charies, 636.

index.

915

ScoTT, Sir Walter, 558, 565, 615,
636, 648.
Seabury, Bishop, 133, 190.
Sheldon, George, 383, 538.
Sherman, Roger, 94.
Sherman, Roger M., 487, 509.
Sigourney, Mrs., 583, 714.
Silliman, Gen., 398.
Silliman, Professor, 68, 337.
Skellinger, J. J., 137.
Sinall-pox, 53.
Smith, Horace, 559.
Smith, J. L., 513.
Smth, Jaines, 559.
Smith, John Cotton, 63, 417,
551.
S-vuth, Lieutenant, 31, 153, 373,
276.
Smith, Nathan, 364.
Smith, Nathaniel, 350, 360, 508.
Smith, Rev. Mr., 181.
Smith, Sydney, 568.
Smith, Truman, 364.
Snelling, J., 705.
Soule, Pierre, 886.
Soult, Marshal, 840.
South Carolina, Nullification,
467.
Southern Literary Messenger,
760.
Southey, Rob., 196, 559, 640.
Sparks, Jared, 693.
Spotted fever, 348.
St. Albans, 739.
Star-spangled Banner, 446.
Stationers' Company, 713,
Stebbins, Samuel, 140.
Stone, Wm. L., 553.
Storrs, Henry W., 808.
Stowe, Mrs., 556, 763.
Strong, Dr. Nathan, 514, 574.
Sumner, Charles, 718.
Sussex, Dnke of, 666.
Swan, Rev. Mr., 177, 465.
Swift, Zephaniah, 480, 508.

Talma, Actor, 819.
Talmadge, P. A., 556.

Tamehamaha, King, 680,
Taylor, Jeremy, 687.
Tecumseh, 411.
Tegg, Thomas, 735.
Terby, Gen. Nathaniel, 490,
508, 513.
Thacher, B. B., 714.
Thenard, Chemist, 817.
Thiers, 841.
Thomas, Joshua, 503.
Ticknor, Professor, 638.
Tileston, Mr., 760.
Times, London, 663.
Times, New York Daily, 760.
Tisdale, Elkanah, 569.
Todd, Dr., .348.
Toleration, 546.
To.MPKiNS, Vice-President, 518,
773.
Toucey, Isaac, 567.
Tracy, Uriah, 480, 554.
Treadwell, John, 114, 507.
Tribune, New York, 760.
Trubner & Co., London, 765,
766.
Trumbull, Col. John, 573, 582.
Trumbull, John, 391, 569, 573.
TRYoy Gen., 398.

U.
Unitarianism, 188.

V.
! Value, Count, 523.
! Van Buren, Martin, 743, 809.
Vermont, 557.
I Verplanck, G. C, 715.
Victoria, Queen, 740, 887.
Vincent, Sir F., 739.

W.
Wadsworth, Daniel, 580.
j Wadsworth Family, 343.
, Wadsworth, Jereraiah, 580.
I Wainwright, J. M., 567.

916

INDEX.

Waldo, Daniel, 503.
War of 1813, 394.
Ward, Samuel, 504.
Warden, D. B., Consul, 817.
Warden, Francis, 878.
Warner, Miss, 763.
Washington, President, 106,
118.
Waterman, Eev. Mr., 181.
Webster, Daniel, 94, 95, 464,
466, 473, 663, 743, 778, 783,
787, 793, 876.
Webster, Noah, 335, 480, 519,
759.
WELLmGTON, Duke of, 664, 739.
Wells, Dr. S., 848.
Wells, John, 533.
West, Benjamin, 504.
Whipple, E. P., 770.
White, Ebenezer, 374.
Whitney, EU, 836.
Whittier, J. G., 595.
Wickliffe, R., Jr., 849.
Wilberforce, WiUiam, 606.
Wilde, S. S., 503.

Wilkinson, Gen., 411, 453.
Willard, Mrs. Emma, 487.
William IV., King, 739.
Williams, Roger, 187, 637.
Willis, N. P., 696, 704.
Winchester, Gen., 401.
Winthrop, R. C, 718.
Wirt, WilUam, 796, 807.
Wise, Henry, 783.
Wolcott, Frederick, 553.
Wolcott, M. A., 553.
Wolcott, OUver, 113, 480, 531,
533, 549, 550.
Wood, George, 877.
Woodbridge, W. C, 571.
Woodbury, Town of, 350.
Wooster, Calvin, 306.
Wooster, Gen., 399, 370.
Wright, Silas, 809.

Yabacomb, Mrs., 60.
York, Duke of, 668.

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